If one were to believe all the statements made by hippies (when they can be engaged in intelligent conversation) about their lives, it would seem that their existence is indeed idyllic. They paint a picture of absolute freedom, of mind-expansion, of sheer delight untrammeled by trouble of responsibility.
Most 'straights' know there is another side to the hippie story, one they are not willing to tell of hunger, of cold, of the dirt and squalor in which they live, of the after-effects of their trips, of the venereal disease that's a part of their lives. The only part of their life they are willing to talk about is the good, the pleasant, the enjoyable.
Now, though, a novelist has ripped the veil from the life of hippies and shown in uncompromising detail the dirt, the filth, the degradation that accompanies it. In Golden Betty we see a thoroughly delightful if somewhat mixed-up young girl from Philadelphia wind up in the hippie colony of San Francisco, where she engages in a variety of sexual orgies, learns the pleasures (and the pain) of smoking pot, ultimately to learn that she is only the sexual plaything of the man to whom she has attached herself. He forces her to perform fellatio on him against her wishes, and as the climax to a long series of degrading events, finally sells her body to a Marine for fifteen dollars.
Mephisto, her lover, finally takes an acid trip from which he cannot return, and Golden Betty, the little lost girl from Philadelphia, winds up the pawn of a brawny hippie who calls himself King Kong. In order to insure her absolute loyalty, he gets her hooked on junk and makes her his slave . . . until the next girl comes along who will replace her.
This is a disturbing book, for it reveals not only the wasted and useless lives led by a significant segment of the young people, but also it reveals the failure of those parents who have somehow not been able to communicate 'how it really is' to the kids who go the hippie route. They are not, of course, all wrong; nor are they right. The evils of the Establishment against which they protest can be changed, for our way of life has built within it the methods for change. But change, if it is desirable, cannot be achieved by the kind of protest embodied in the hippie philosophy.
And Golden Betty is a tragic example of the basic weakness of any philosophy embodying freedom without responsibility.
Joseph J. Johnson, Ph.D. Los Angeles, California August, 1968
CHAPTER ONE
Mephisto unzipped his fly and shoved his hand into the opening at the front of his briefs. He pulled out his long, sleek, limp cock and stared absently down in the toilet following the stream of piss. The trip was over. It had been a satisfying journey into the unconscious self despite the small amount of LSD he had consumed.
As usual, after an acid experience, his head was groggy and he wanted a cup of strong coffee. In the living room, bodies were sprawled all over the furniture and floor. A conglomerate of boys and girls doing their thing. Some were puffing contentedly on marijuana cigarettes and still others on STP or LSD trips.
Nobody was fully dressed except Mephisto, but they all had some article of clothing on even, if it was only a pair of thin briefs. In one corner of the room, a couple was busy at the project of feeling each other's genitals. Most of their clothing had been removed and their complete sexual arousal was obvious. They kissed passionately while the boy was trying to pull her panties down. Her hand was wrapped securely around the cylindrical bulge jutting outward at the front of his jockey shorts.
Mephisto took it all in at a glance and then went into the untidy kitchen. Dirty glasses and dishes filled the sink and tabletop. He searched in the cabinet for the instant coffee.
"Goddamn," he muttered aloud. The jar was empty. Nothing edible or drinkable lasted very long around that pad.
His wooziness was still with him. He hadn't yet made it back to earth from outer space. Wearily he resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to go out for a cup of coffee, so he stuck his head back into the living room and asked if anyone wanted to join him at the coffee house. No one responded. The corner lovers were now totally naked and screwing like mad. A stirring of excitement tingled in Mephisto's groin. He hadn't had a good piece of ass in five days. Not since his steady bird, Tessa, had left San Francisco to return home. She'd been mighty good in the sack, but when Mephisto heard that she was only sixteen from the detectives looking for her, he was relieved that she voluntarily decided to go back to her parents.
Pussy was pussy and there was plenty to be had all around Haight-Ashbury. All around Frisco for that matter. But Mephisto liked to have his own private stuff. A strange piece was good to pass time now and then, but he wanted a ready female at his beck and call who possessed a blank mind and a nimble twat.
Tessa had fitted that bill perfectly. She was dumb as hell, he thought, except when she got out of her clothes and into bed for some fast and furious sex. Then, she had a master's degree.
No cunt, though, was worth a possible twenty years in prison. When Tessa had tearfully kissed Mephisto goodbye at the Greyhound station, she said she'd remember him always. All he missed was her hot little ass rubbing up against him. He was glad she skipped before the fuzz glommed their domestic setup.
He pushed down the semi-hard on that had risen in his levis and headed for Zombie's Espresso.
It was Saturday night and a lot of straight squares were on the street gaping at the hippies lounging around the various doorways. The nippy Frisco air helped to clear up Mephisto's grogginess. Now he was looking forward to the coffee warming him inside.
Zombie's was packed with the usual gang of long hairs with a sprinkling of bug-eyed tourists. A few of the hippies were having fun devising various means of shocking the straights who openly stared at them. Two heavily bearded guys kissed each other full on the lips and fondled the other's crotch. They were not queer, but the gag worked as the outsiders gasped. It also brought a laugh from the real fags in the place, of whom there were many.
A gal hippie took a harmless sugar cube over to some old geezer's table and dropped it into his coffee cup saying, "Have a good trip, pop!" Naturally the man had heard about LSD being injected into sugar cubes and he and his frightened wife got up and departed immediately.
Mephisto waved to his friends around the joint, but took a table by himself to sip his espresso. He wanted to meditate. How any person could meditate against the blaring sounds of the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead erupting from the juke box was beyond belief. But noise didn't bother Mephisto. When he wanted to concentrate, anyplace at anytime was suitable, except the close proximity of a hot-assed bitch.
While musing about Tessa's running away from home, he thought again of his own abrupt departure. His father was a corporation president. His mother headed several civic clubs and groups that were aimed at community improvement. Their precious son, Ronald (God, how he had hated that name) had graduated college and was pondering his future. Dad wanted him to join the business as a junior executive. Mom hoped he would seek a career in politics where he could "help people." A liberal arts education plus a restless urge had taught him only that he wanted no part of their world or their goals.
Bitter, hurtful words had been hurled indiscriminately by all three of them. He was twenty-one and was going to live his life his way, and to hell with them.
He still had plenty of money in the bank account from the abundance that dad had sent him while in college. He withdrew the full amount and took a bus to San Francisco, rented the rambling old house on Haight Street, and let his hair grow down to his shoulders. His favorite operatic character had been Mephistopheles, so he shortened it and became simply Mephisto to everyone he met.
That had only been a scant three months before. Now his house was crowded with diggers. He enjoyed being a hippie. That was his scene, his way of life. The money had dwindled rapidly, but he had innocently paid six months rent in advance, so he didn't have to sweat a roof for awhile. Food was brought in in various ways. Most of the diggers panhandled the coin on Market Street. They never asked for dimes, but always, "Have you got any spare change?"
Two of the boys actually had jobs in the post office delivering mail, beards and all. People soon grew accustomed to the sight of a U.S. Mailman coming down the street in sandals, peppermint-striped bell bottoms and a flowing, flowered shirt. The long hair and beards were only appropriate with the clothing.
Some of the kids (their ages ranged from mid-teens to early twenties) shoplifted food on a steady basis from supermarkets. They reasoned that it wasn't really criminal because the huge markets seemed to have more than enough stock to fill their shelves and wouldn't feel such a small pinch.
This, then, was Mephisto's new family. They took drugs, smoked pot, indulged openly in promiscuous sex, talked endlessly about how sweet life should be, and each walked his own path doing his own thing. Though each exercised individual ingenuity in gaining the parcels of food, drink, or drugs, they acted as one in voraciously consuming everything they could get their mouths on. Appeasement of hunger usually took second place to the innumerable drug experiences.
Mephisto's reverie was broken by a young lady with long, straight black hair and a cosmetic-free face. Her name, she offered, was Zora, and she wanted to dance. Her lush body, concealed only slightly by the loose flowery gown, was moving in rhythm to the sensuous beat of the relentlessly loud music.
He hated to dance, but he welcomed this chance to get out of himself for the moment. And the bird was too attractive to refuse. He joined her on the small, crowded dance floor and squirmed in time to the music blasting in their ears. His hungry eyes ate the flesh off her bones. Like most of the girl hippies, she wore no bra beneath her dress. The constant bouncing of her generously full tits made Mephisto's mouth water. He attained a full scale erection, outlined clearly in his tight levis, but no one paid heed except the few tourists still around who were horrified, but secretly thrilled that they were being horrified.
Zora moved closer to Mephisto, allowing her pelvis to grind suggestively into his. She was high on something, but he didn't know what. Nor did he care. The fact that she was digging him was enough. The obscene posture of their dancing was partially obscured by the fact that the floor was so crowded, pushing couples together.
"Have you got a pad?" she whispered in his ear.
"Yeh, baby. Wanta cut?"
"Got any maryjane?" she asked expectantly.
"Why?" asked Mephisto, crestfallen. "You gotta get stoned to make it?"
"No handsome," she teased. "For afterwards. I like to fly high after getting bounced in bed. Any objections, sweetie?"
Mephisto was captivated by her shiny smile and eagerness. He knew he could probably cop a couple of sticks of shit off one of the diggers at the pad.
"Let's get outta here," he said as he pulled her off the dance floor and paid his tab. He walked her back through the darkened streets to his house with his arm around her in order to keep himself warm as well as her.
He maneuvered her into his private bedroom through the assembled bodies strewn about the house. Having paid the rent, he maintained his right to his own bedroom, sharing it only with a succession of female companions. Everyone else slept wherever they could find a vacant spot to stretch out in.
Mephisto turned on his lamp that had a red bulb, giving the room a rosy haze of light. It illuminated the room just enough to keep them from tripping over the mess that indicated his informal habits of undressing.
Their open mouths found each other and explored with wet, wild thrashing tongues. Together, they fell on the bed and began feeling each other up through the material of their clothes. Mephisto couldn't seem to get enough of Zora's large knockers as he cupped and squeezed them repeatedly. He was over her as she ran a hand down into the rear of his levis and under the elastic of his briefs. Her fingers played over the smoothness and muscularity of his cheeks. One finger toyed with the curly hairs at the crack of his ass and finally she shoved the finger as far as she could up his tight asshole.
He had been busy himself, pulling her dress up over her hips so that he could get a good grip on her soft posterior. He pushed her panties down and poked a stiff finger into the wet crack between her thighs. The bush of pubic curls was moist as he worked the finger skillfully in the hole to tickle her clitoris. She was thrusting her pelvis to assist him.
Zora unhooked her dress a couple of places and the garment just fell away. Mephisto sat up long enough to pull his shirt off while Zora undid his. large buckle and unzipped his levis. He stood up and allowed her to lower his pants and jockey shorts to his ankles, where he kicked them off. Both he and she had already divested themselves of their sandals earlier.
Before Mephisto got back down on the bed, Zora bent over to him and took his huge, throbbing cock into her mouth. She moved her lips up and down as much as she could on the lengthy organ, using her tongue to lubricate and tickle. The thick, masculine pump grew even larger with desire and, before they knew it, he began to spurt his hot, sticky liquid down her throat.
Though he had come in such a prodigious quantity, Mephisto was eager to go on with the game. His return to a flaccid state was of short duration as he made love to Zora's nakedness.
His mouth gnawed ravenously at her milky white breasts. He licked her skin from the shoulders down to the silkiness of her thighs. He let his fingers tweak her hardened nipples while he parted the pubic hairs with his thrusting tongue. He sucked her snatch greedily while she moaned with intense pleasure. She came three times in rapid succession.
Somebody was knocking on his bedroom door as he and Zora continued fondling one another. The door was unlocked, but they knew better than to just walk in. Irritated, he finally shouted for them to come on in.
Neither Mephisto nor Zora made any attempt to hide their nudity as two male diggers entered the room. One spoke.
"Sorry man. Didn't know you had company," he said, but neither made a motion to leave.
"Okay you guys," said Mephisto, "what the hell's the scam?"
The other boy spoke. "Nothing important, Mephisto. We're on our way to the bus station to see the fresh stuff blowing into town. Thought you might join v. But I guess you've got your own thing to do right now. We'll see you later. Peace, man. Love." And with that they took their leave nonchalantly.
"You've got some groovy friends," said Zora with obvious interest.
"The whole world's groovy, babe."
"Is it?" she asked with a wounded look.
"Yah," he conceded with an understanding look. "I guess I know what you mean. It's an up tight scene, ain't it, baby?"
"You're out of sight, man," she whispered, nuzzling his chest.
He resumed the love play in earnest. His large palms swept the length of her body with featherlike caresses. She responded in kind and soon they were both getting caught up in the sweep of desire.
Mephisto's dong had grown long, thick and rock-hard. With her hands assisting in the operation, he entered her ripe and ready pussy, shoving excitedly until he was buried to the hilt. With a series of energetic thrusts in and out, he soon was getting his rocks off again . . . and later . . . again for her cunt was a voracious, demanding hole, needing, requiring hot, hard meat and generous gushes of thick, white love-cream to satisfy its appetite.
In the Greyhound Bus terminal, the through bus from Philadelphia had just pulled in after over three days of traveling. The passengers who had made the full trip alighted from the vehicle with stiff knees and a deep intake of the cool Frisco air. Off to one side of the terminal stood Mephisto's buddies, eyeing the incoming visitors. They hoped they wouldn't be disappointed.
They weren't. Among the motley group of passengers stood a shy blonde of incredible beauty. Not a trace of makeup marred her natural looks. She carried one small overnight bag and a small purse. Nothing else. Her clothes were the simple skirt and sweater of a typical high school girl. Her hair was long, hanging past her shoulders, and shone brilliantly gold even in the harsh glare of the station lights.
She looked at her new surroundings, not frightened, but definitely uneasy. Clutching her bag tightly, she walked into the outer waiting room and sat in one of the hard seats. All about her people smoked, read newspapers, or stared with open curiosity at the other rootless souls. A few servicemen sat glassy-eyed, with huge duffle bags, waiting to go God knows where. The winos were hoping the cops wouldn't come nosing around while they were enjoying the warmth and comfort from the cool night air.
One woman was busy yelling at her three children playing among the seats, while trying to placate the yowling infant she held in her arms. Her protruding belly indicated she had been well-fucked and that another little bastard was on his way to make her life unhappy. Two seats away from her, a sailor lay half out of his chair, sprawled sound asleep. His long, blue-clad legs were wide apart and he either was having a wet dream, or he needed to piss. The front flap of his bell bottoms did little to conceal the rousing hard on that strained from within. Of those noticing, some giggled, nudging each other. Some turned away, embarrassed. But everyone who passed sneaked at least one look.
The blonde from Philadelphia took in everything with her eager eyes. It was much like the bus station had been at home before she left. There was something dirty and dismal and sad about the place and the people there. She wanted to get out of there quickly. Putting her bag into a locker, she deposited the quarter and put the key into her purse. Then she walked from the station onto the street and kept going the half block till she reached the large street that most of the pedestrians were gravitating to . . . Market Street. There she wandered slowly along, unaware of the two hippies following.
The very name of the street made her a bit homesick for the familiarity of Market Street back in Philadelphia. But many sights were alike as in many big cities. Many storefronts bore the same or similar names to those back home. There were the many movie houses, some of which displayed strongly erotic advertising. Stopping at a newsstand to glance through some magazines, she was amazed to see so many openly displayed nudist and sex publications. The genitals of both sexes were fully uncovered in the photographs. She felt a twinge of embarrassment standing there looking at them, until she realized everyone else passing by was too wrapped up in his own reverie.
Approaching the corner, she noticed the two hippies, not knowing they had been deliberately trailing her. Surely they would be able to give her the information she needed.
"Hi," spoke the blonde beauty. "Could you fellows please tell me how to reach the Haight-Ashbury district?"
"We'll do better than that. We'll take you there, if you don't mind," answered the taller one.
"My name's Betty Morse," she smiled in assent.
"Groovy Betty. My name is Zap and this is Euripides. Welcome to the golden bay."
Zap and Euripides? Those are really unusual names. Not at all conventional. What are your last names?"
"We chose those names ourselves. Last names aren't necessary around here. We've emancipated ourselves from our past. We can be what we want to be, who we want to be. That's what this is all about, Betty. Are you a flower child?" asked Zap, who was doing all the talking for himself and Euripides.
"I'd like to be one," she said shyly. "But I'd want to keep my name Betty. I like it. Maybe you could call me Golden Betty, though."
"All is peace, Golden Betty. What you are called is your decision. Betty it is. A name as pretty as the wearer of it. You come with us. We'll get you situated with the other love children."
"Don't you want to know more about me?" asked Betty plaintively. "Where I'm from, or what I'm doing here?"
Zap took her arm and steered her up a side street with Euripides on the other side. "Here, Betty, you tell what you want to tell. Or not. As you wish. No one questions your past or your motives. It's a new beginning for all of us. We look only to the future, not the past. Isn't that right, Euripides?"
"You speak the truth, Zap," said the other stoically.
"See, Betty. Euripides really can talk. But he prefers to meditate. Now me, I never get tired of talking. How about you?"
"I don't know," said Betty softly. "I've never had anyone I could honestly talk to before. I mean really talk to. About . . . well . . . about life and things, I guess."
"Worry no more," assured Zap. "Here you find countless willing and eager ears, all ready to listen and understand. And no reprimands to sour your disposition. Each of us gives peace and love and receives peace and love in return. You dig?"
"I dig," smiled Betty with all the innocence and fervor of a newly blossomed flower child though she didn't realize how soon she was to be plucked.
Betty's hippie companions guided her through the San Francisco streets that curved often and which were hilly in many places. They pointed out the various hippie hangouts that catered to their subterranean culture. The three of them were greeted pleasantly along the way by the numerous flower children lounging on the sidewalks. When they reached Haight Street, Betty followed unquestioningly as Zap and Euripides guided her directly to Mephisto's house.
They walked in the front door (which was never locked) and joined the crowd in the living room. Most of the occupants had returned from their acid trips or other diversions. Zora apparently had left. Mephisto, dressed only in levis, sat smoking and talking to several members of the group. Her two escorts allowed Betty to introduce herself. Various names were returned in her direction, but she only caught Mephisto's. She couldn't take her eyes off him. His shoulder-length hair and magnificent physique made him look like a Greek god to her.
Betty's interest did not go unnoticed by Mephisto. He too, was attracted to her beauty of face and form. So much so that he soon managed to get her alone with himself for some personal conversation. Zap was slightly disappointed, but he saw Betty's obvious preference for the company of Mephisto, so he gave in.
On the pretext of showing her the rest of the house, Mephisto took Betty into the kitchen, which was surprisingly deserted for a change. She accepted his offer of a glass of milk and they settled down to talk.
"This is a marvelous house," said Betty, uncertain as to how to direct the conversation.
"It serves to keep out the elements," said Mephisto, gazing directly into Betty's eyes. "Would you like to stay here?"
"I'd love to. But is there any room?"
"Enough. All those people out there don't live here. Some are just visiting. There isn't much privacy, unless you'd like to share my personal bedroom ? "
"Just like that?" asked Betty, who was not really shocked by his proposal. Boys had always been after her body. A few of them had been fortunate enough to make the grade the first when she was just barely past twelve. "You're asking me to sleep with you. No preliminaries? No seduction?
Mephisto smiled.
"No. I simply asked you if you wanted to share my private room. There are twin beds pushed together. We can separate them as far as you want. As for sleeping together, that will come or not, as you wish." He shrugged indifferently, as though fucking her were the farthest thing from his mind.
Betty studied the handsome boy with even more relish. He was a smooth talker. Apparently he was one of the leaders. With his looks and style he could get any girl from the crowd. Yet he had singled her out to share his pad. She suddenly felt better about having made the long, tiresome bus trip to San Francisco to seek a new life.
"My bag is at the terminal," said Betty. "Everything I own is in it."
"No, Betty," corrected Mephisto. "Everything you own is inside your skin. All else is exterior. Nobody owns anything or anyone else. Your bag has things in it, but things are unimportant. Only people are important. Things are a hang-up."
"Very philosophical, Mephisto. But you're a man. You don't need much. Look at you. Aii you've got on is an old pair of levis. And they're so tight you must use a shoehorn to get into them. But I'm a girl. I need those things, even if it is a hang-up."
He showed amusement.
"You're an independent girl, Betty. I like that. I have every intention of going to the bus station with you tomorrow to pick up the bag. You just gave me an opportunity to make statement on the current scene, so I made it. You'll run into a lot of that around here. Everyone has their say, but nobody tries to tell you what or what not to do."
Betty said, "You mean I'm free to do what I want to do, whenever I want to do it?"
"That's about it. You do your thing. I do mine. Sometimes we get together to do the same thing. Dig?"
She nodded assent, but she secretly wondered just what meaning he was putting in those words. He didn't appear to be the type of man who was used to platonic relationships with girls. Sharing his bedroom would surely lead to an even closer relationship, of that she was certain. The idea wasn't at all unattractive to her. But that would come later, when her pussy ran copiously with the juices of love . . . and it would be better with him than doing the thing with her fingers.
"I'm sleepy," yawned Betty. "I'd like to go to bed, if you don't mind?"
"I don't mind," said Mephisto. "C'mon and I'll take you up to my room. It's got a private bath too, so you don't have to traipse down the hallway to the other John."
She followed him upstairs where he pushed the twin beds about two feet apart.
"Won't the others resent me? I mean, me being a newcomer and all? Moving right into the best room in the house?"
"We're all newcomers, Betty. Nobody resents. Everybody shares whatever he has to share. I'm not sleepy yet. Give me your locker key and I'll take a walk down to the station and pick up your bag, so you'll have it handy in the morning. You go ahead and sleep your pretty little head off." He grinned. "Then maybe later we'll find a thing to do."
Betty thanked him for his trouble as he slipped on a jacket to ward off the chill outdoors. After he left, she took a shower and put her slip back on to sleep in. There were a lot of things she wanted to think about, but the bus ride had caught up with her and she soon drifted off to sleep.
Through images flashed onto her subconscious mind, Betty was transported back to her former home in Philadelphia. She had just returned from the movies with a girl friend. It was Friday night and the house was in darkness. Her mother was no doubt out drinking in one of the local saloons, as was her custom.
Betty went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk and wondered if she should wait up for her mother to help put her to bed, or just go on to bed herself.
Mother might bring a man home again, so Betty decided to go to bed. She went upstairs and headed in the direction of her room. Looking down the hall she saw that mother's door was closed. That was unusual unless she had company.
Betty didn't wish to disturb her, but she knew she'd sleep easier if she knew her mother was already in bed. So she stole silently down to her mother's door and cocked an ear. Not a sound came from within, though Betty could swear she heard breathing. Briefly she debated the advisability of peeking in. If mother had an overnight visitor and was awake, she'd be mad as hell and would begin cursing and screaming, as she had in the past, if Betty interrupted her fucking.
Taking a chance on disturbing her, Betty wanted to see whether she was in bed or not. She opened the door just a crack, but could see nothing. Opening it a little wider gave her a full view of the occupied bed. Mother was there, nude and sound asleep. Next to her, equally nude and asleep, was a very well built young man. But he wasn't just any young man. Betty recognized him immediately.
On the bed with her mother was Tony White, a boy from school whom she had only recently begun to date. She liked him a lot. He had tried to fuck, but she hadn't yet yielded herself to him all the way. Not only had she been fond of him, but Mother had mentioned how much she thought of him. But Betty had never guessed she had meant it in that way! Her mother had fucked her boy friend. It was almost like . . . incest!
With tears springing to her eyes, Betty ran to her own bedroom. She could figure what had happened. Tony had come to visit her after she had gone to the movies. Her mother was probably half-stoned and had invited him in anyway. Either she had gotten him drunk, or had managed some other way to seduce him. Her own mother . . . pulling a trick like that! Fucking her boy friend!
That was definitely the last straw! No wonder daddy had divorced her. Not that he had ever given her much of his own time. Daddy lived and worked in another city and seldom if ever wrote. Mother had been a drunk a long time and was increasingly becoming a common slut. Betty was getting ashamed to bring friends to the house anyway . . . but now this!
To prevent needless friction, Betty said nothing to her mother about discovering Tony White in her bed. She also said nothing to Tony, but refused his requests for dates. As soon as her next check came from daddy, the only thing he ever gave her was money, she quietly packed her bag and left without informing her mother where she was headed.
Betty had read about the hippies in San Francisco and how they were all rebelling against authority. That seemed to be the perfect refuge. Though she was in her senior year of high school, she couldn't wait around to get her diploma. Mother had finished her with Philadelphia for good.
The long bus ride had been interesting, if tiring. Coming across the western states in particular had been a scenic revelation. And the trip gave her ample time to think about what she was doing. Leaving the old life had been easy as far as home was concerned. She couldn't wait to get away from her mother. It was much more difficult to cut off her school friends and activities. But a more exciting and rewarding life was in the offing, she hoped.
A scraping sound brought her back to consciousness and she opened her eyes. The room was dim. Mephisto had returned and was placing her bag on the dresser. He had turned on only the bathroom light to avoid awakening her.
Betty watched him as he moved around. She wondered briefly if she should let him know she was awake, but then thought better of it. Guiltily, she felt she should close her eyes, but her curiosity was tempted too strongly. She continued peeking as he prepared for bed, hoping to get a sight of his nude body. She thrilled at the prospect of seeing his prick, for though she had been fucked, she had never really looked at a prick.
He kicked off his sandals and then put his jacket on a nearby chair. With a simple tug at the top of his levis and a quick zip, his pants came open and he peeled them off. He was now totally naked, silhouetted by the light from the bathroom near which he stood.
Betty marveled at the perfection of his strong, slightly hairy body. She took note of the fact that he was extremely well hung, with a prick hanging well below the level of his balls so much so, that the sight was awesome to behold. As he walked into and back out of the bathroom, his cock bounced upward and the heavy, full testicles swung in unison from side to side. He glanced in her direction, so she closed her eyes, afraid he would catch her spying on him.
A few minutes later, she opened her eyes again, only to find that Mephisto had doused the bathroom light and had gone to bed himself. She was a little disappointed he hadn't come over and at least tried to fuck her. She didn't know if she'd refuse or not but she would have had liked the opportunity to refuse. She felt the first stirring of passion deep within her belly, and suddenly she wanted that great prick pumping away inside her.
She looked over at the other bed and saw the naked man on top of it. Her eyes grew more accustomed to the dark and she examined Mephisto more closely in detail. A streetlight shining near the window threw just enough illumination to light the skin on his lower extremities.
Betty lay there staring at his statue-like perfection, unaware that Mephisto was also looking at her and had now noticed her open and longing eyes. She was enthralled as the length of limp meat that adorned his left thigh suddenly began to come to life, rising upward until it stood quivering like an unsteady spire. Ashamed of herself for her sneakiness in peeping at Mephisto like this, Betty turned away quickly, ashamed at having been caught staring at his big, hard prick. Her cheeks flamed, and she was too upset even to masturbate, though her pussy flowed copiously with the juices his hot meat had inspired from her.
Mephisto noticed her sudden turn and took it as a rejection, though he hadn't made any overt offer. He went into the bathroom and closed the door, where he quickly pulled himself off, not wanting his passion for Golden Betty to interfere with his sleep. If she didn't want to do the thing tonight okay . . . but his thing was ready right then.
CHAPTER TWO
The following day, after a light breakfast of sugarless tea and yogurt, Mephisto took Betty on a daylight tour of Haight-Ashbury. Betty's home life may have been a mess, but the house and neighborhood had been impeccably clean compared to the filth and disorder prevalent in the hippie community. However, she felt she was among people she understood and who understood her, so she didn't mind their utter disregard for tidiness.
Being Sunday, and unusually sunny and warm for the city by the Golden Gate, the hippies had migrated to Golden Gate Park to dig the scenery and stage one of their countless love-ins.
Mephisto and Betty went there also and were greeted by Zap and Euripides, among others. Zora even came by to say hello, not feeling any jealousy that Mephisto had another girl on his arm. She had gotten Mephisto into bed simply to add his name to her impressive list of conquests. It had been fun, being fucked by him, but now her eyes were mainly on other young studs with whom she hadn't yet scored. Her two passions in life were pot and peckers. She could get high on one or go down on the other with equal facility.
Close to a thousand hippies had converged on the park and were spread all over the grassy hillsides. The group was broken up into many little cliques of acquaintances who were engaged in active conversation, or were content to relax and just listen. Many had taken off some clothes, some had stripped bare ass, presumably to soak up the sun's rays, but more likely to shock the straight onlookers who had gathered nearby. Several cops milled around the edge of the park, but seemed to be unaware that almost thirty of the frolicking boys and girls were stark naked in the center of the group.
There was a great deal of laughing and singing. A few guitars were in evidence as clusters of hippies joined, voices in song. With all the shrill activity, the crowd, the weird clothes and hair-dos, the singing, dancing, nudity and love play going on; the squares thought an old-fashioned orgy was unfolding before their eyes. If they were shocked or offended, however, none turned to leave. The fuzz was apparently satisfied that no fights were taking place, so they minded their own business. They too, were mesmerized by the spectacle of the flower people.
As the afternoon progressed, things quieted down. Voices became a soft buzz as individuals talked in lower tones to each other. Some of the more daring hippies had lighted up joints of marijuana, despite the close proximity of the fuzz. A good breeze from the water fortunately carried the incriminating smoke into the atmosphere.
Zap and Euripides each popped a sugar cube into their mouths and settled back onto the turf to relax and travel. Both Betty and Mephisto declined the cubes offered them.
When they were at last able to concentrate on each other alone, Mephisto asked Betty, "Don't you like to turn on?"
"I really don't know. I've never done it before."
"Never?" asked Mephisto in amazement. "That's incredible. You're missing half your life. How are you going to know where it's at, if you don't take some trips? I mean, there are other worlds beside this one, baby."
Betty gave him a lost, lonely look. Her lower lip quivered slightly as she spoke.
"I don't really know what I'm doing here. In San Francisco, I mean. It was miserable back home. But this is all new to me. I like your friends. They seem sincere and ready to help me. But I am a stranger. I don't quite fit into your world yet."
Mephisto was holding her hand and gave it a reassuring pat of encouragement.
"Don't mind me, Betty. I don't mean to push. But you can forget that stranger business. From the straight point of view, everyone here is a stranger. We all came from different places for our own reasons. Some of us may come from the same town and not even know it. Nobody here knows anything except what you wish to tell them. But the funny part is, the thing that draws us together is the fact that we aren't strangers at all. We're all people who believe in love and peace and nobody telling us what to do. Our past lives might separate us, but it's what we're all searching for that keeps us traveling on the same plane of thought."
"I believe in love and peace, too," said Betty. "But why must drugs be a part of it?" Her grimace dramatized her distaste with the idea.
"Insight, baby," answered Mephisto. "Insight. Your conscious mind can only take you so far. To know where it all is, you gotta dig into the other layer. Nobody can do it for you, babe, not even a head doctor. LSD can take you there and back. You expand your subconscious and become aware of a whole new world out there. It's beautiful."
"But isn't it dangerous?" asked Betty. "I mean, I've heard so many gruesome stories about kids who took LSD and jumped out of windows and things."
Mephisto came right back without hesitation, putting strong emphasis on his words.
"It's all bullshit put out by the fuzz. Sure, maybe some crazy kid did take too much LSD and took a jump. What about the drunks who get loaded and try to fly off of the Golden Gate bridge? Do they turn around and make alcohol illegal because some bums can't handle it? No! And you know why? Because they all drink alcohol themselves, so it's okay. But they haven't tried LSD. They don't know a goddam thing about it except some wild rumor put out by these clowns looking for publicity. They don't like it mainly because we use it, that's all. They'll even arrest a guy for smoking pot. Pot, for crissakes! That shit can't even hurt a baby."
He had gotten wound up and was waving his hands angrily as he spoke. Betty touched him gently and asked him to calm down.
"Yeah," he said. "You're right. I guess I lose my cool whenever I think about all the screwing the fuzz gives us."
"You know," said Betty, measuring her words carefully, "I must admit I am curious about marijuana cigarettes. I knew some kids back east who smoked them and tried to get me to, but I was always too scared. Nobody knows me here, so maybe now I could try one just to see if I like it or not." She looked at him hopefully as he began to answer.
"Now you're groovin' Betty. Find what this scene is all about. You're a free soul. No strings. You can experiment, do this or that. Whatever your bag is. And you don't need anybody's permission, that's the beauty of it. I don't have a joint on me, but maybe Zap has one."
Betty restrained him with her hand as he turned to seek out the other boy.
"Not now, Mephisto. Not this very moment. I could never do it in public like this. I'm really scared about it. I want to try it at the house in the bedroom with just you there to keep an eye on me. Will you please do that?"
"Sure baby. But you have nothing to fear. These people are all on your side. They're all doing their own thing and they couldn't care less what you're doing. Besides, grass is safe. You get high, but you'll relax and feel good. No hysterics or any of that shit."
"I'll take your word for it," said Betty. "But I'd still rather wait till we're at the house for my first attempt."
"I'll tell you what," put in Mephisto eagerly. "Tonight there's a poetry reading at Zombie's and everybody will be there. That means the whole house will be empty for a few hours. Why don't you and me stay home and have our own little pot party?"
"All right," agreed Betty, who anticipated the event with some dread, some guilt, and a great deal of curiosity. And maybe . . . maybe Mephisto would fuck her as the grand finale to what she hoped would be a magnificent evening.
Dusk had settled over the Bay Area with chilly authority, putting an abrupt end to the earlier warmth created by the now fast disappearing sun. Jackets, sweaters and even shirts that had been discarded temporarily, were being gratefully climbed back into.
As every Sunday, a large throng of tourists and would-be, weekend hippies tramped the crowded sidewalks of Haight-Ashbury to inspect hippiedom. Reactions to the gapers was mixed among the hippies. Many pointedly ignored the rude spectators. Others took full advantage of the opportunity for some wholesale panhandling. And there were the inevitable displays of outrageous behavior in order to provoke and arouse the so-called decent citizens. One hippie, smoking a straight cigarette, contorted his face in a look of ecstasy as if flying high on pot. It gave his audience of squares a vicarious thrill to be actually witnessing a hippie taking dope, as they would later tell it to their friends like they thought it was.
Their protests to the contrary, the hippies were glad that people paid them so much attention. What would be the sense of protesting society and conformity if no one noticed? Amen, Brother Jones! The thing that bugged the hippie community the most was the fact that the police force also paid them a lot of attention. That attention they could rather have done without. Paradoxically, the hippies who scorned the police kept perpetrating public acts that would draw more police surveillance in the feud between the establishment and the anti-socials.
Beards, beads, bells and sandals were in abundance as they headed for the various coffee houses to congregate. Mephisto's clique of friends had all gone to Zombie's Espresso for the poetry session.
Mephisto and Betty found themselves suddenly alone in the living room. He went to the phonograph and put on an LP of Indian Ragas played on the sitar.
Taking out some brown cigarettes, he placed them on the small table near the sofa and sat down next to Betty.
"Now the thing to do," explained Mephisto, "is to just relax. I'll light your joint for you and then you just puff on it as you would a regular cigarette. Don't expect miracles, or you'll be disappointed. Forget everything. Listen to the music and enjoy the smoke. Gradually it'll take effect. You'll feel great then, just wait and see."
"Will I want to scream or dance or do something like that?" giggled Betty self-consciously.
"No. I told you, it's a mild drug. You'll probably want to sit right where you are now and just dig the music and everything. You may get a little giddy, but that's all."
So Mephisto lighted Betty's stick and then his own. Without further discussion they settled back to inhale and listen to the weird sounds emanating from the record player.
Like an experienced drinker who can get loaded and still manage to deliberate every move he makes, Mephisto could get high on grass and enjoy the heady sensations while retaining control of his actions. As the sense of euphoria enveloped him, he kept one eye on Betty to glean her reactions.
He didn't have to wait long. She became very giddy and playful, and began to tickle him. Since the house was warm, he had no shirt on. Just levis. Betty had a simple cotton, flowered dress she had picked up at one of the digger stores that afternoon.
Betty's teasing fingers sought Mephisto's ribs through the flesh and muscle of his bare skin. She was delighted to find that he was extremely sensitive and ticklish. He retaliated by tickling her. His hands took full advantage of this opportunity to explore her body as he kept the fingers on the move from one area to another as fast as she tried to pull them off. She also was sensitive, and they fell into each other's arms laughing like happy school kids.
A new feeling took hold of them as they gazed into the other's eyes. She suddenly noticed how very handsome and healthy he was. He saw the fierce sensuality that underlined her golden, blonde beauty. Giddiness was replaced by physical desire and desire was replaced by action as Mephisto pulled Betty to him and pried her lips apart with his hot, thrusting tongue. She responded fervently as they pressed their lips together in a passionately sloppy, wet kiss.
His hands were again on her body, but not to tickle, nor was she attempting to remove them. Her soft breasts yielded deliciously under his caressing squeeze. The mounds of her ass were like giant marshmallows under his groping palms. Tenderly he fingered the divide between her velvet-skinned cheeks.
Betty was on fire. The flames of passion were consuming her entire body with longing and lust. None of her high school boy friends had ever made her feel as ecstatic as she felt that very moment. Maybe it was the marijuana. Or maybe it was the man whose hands were igniting sparks all over her skin, even in places that she had never felt them before.
Now and then a gasp would escape her lips as Mephisto discovered and explored some new, highly sensitive, erotic area of her body. She kept running her hands across the broad expanse of his naked chest and arms, feeling his muscles ripple as he moved over her. The natural bulge at the crotch of his levis grew huge when her hands went down to caress his thickly muscled thighs. Her tiny hand attempted to cup the bulge, but was only partly successful. Lovingly, she moved her hand over and around the rough material at his fly and could feel the heat and throbbing meat inside.
Betty finally worked his zipper down and then withdrew his long, hard, pulsating cock. The head of it was as big as her fist. Mephisto had placed one hand behind her head and pressed downward so that the enormous prick loomed even larger as her face was shoved closer.
Betty hesitated momentarily. This was an entirely new experience for her. Though she had fondled boys before, had even jerked them off on occasion, and had allowed them to screw her, she had never gone so far as to suck a cock. Her drugged senses quickly withdrew the inhibition and Betty stretched her lips wide to welcome the entrance of Mephisto's glans. She attempted to encompass as much of the rigid organ as she could get into her mouth, but it was too long. As her mouth secreted saliva and her tongue flicked over and around the tightened skin of his burning cock, Mephisto thrust his pelvis forward, which almost caused Betty to choke.
After sucking the head thoroughly, Betty released it from her mouth and moved her lips and tongue up and down the entire length of the big cock, lubricating the full ten inches of his phallus.
While her mouth was busy there, her hands kept active feeling his hairy asshole and cupping the full, pendulous balls that hung between his widespread thighs.
Mephisto didn't want to shoot his load just yet, so he pulled Betty back up beside him. He had one hand between her legs, poking a stiff finger up her wet cunt to stimulate her clit. She kept thrusting her pelvis onto the slippery finger, longing for even greater fulfillment.
"Love me, Mephisto. Please love me," cried Betty, writhing with lewd desire.
"Love you," he said. "I'll love you. I'm gonna fuck you. Fuck you like you've never been fucked before. Get me?"
She thrilled at the command of authority in his voice. He moved over on top of her like a maddened rapist. At times, he liked to feel that he was practically committing rape, but if that was now his intention, he would never find a more cooperative partner.
"Fuck me! Fuck me with that big cock of yours," shouted Betty in a frenzy of passion. "I want all of it shoved into my cunt!"
"I'll give you all of it," said Mephisto as he slid his dick past the cunt hairs into the vulva lips. He rammed it in, moving deeper and deeper. "I'll give you every last goddam inch of this stiff mother-fucker!"
He pounded his ass at her pelvis with all the fury of a pile driver. She had trouble keeping her long legs wrapped around his jerking, thrusting hips. He buried his cock in her all the way up to his balls, which kept bouncing against her as he moved in and out.
Her fingernails were scratching the hell out of his back and ass in the excitement. When he was all the way in and stayed planted for awhile, Betty reached back and ran her fingers slowly and lovingly over his hirsute balls and played with the hairs up inside the crack of his ass.
Betty was flying high on cloud nine. She wondered briefly how the magical moment had all come about. It seemed to her that they had lighted their cigarettes only minutes ago. Then the love play. She clearly remembered unzipping his pants. But when and how did they finally get all their clothes off? It had happened so easily and so fast that she couldn't pinpoint the precise moment. This was what it was all about though. Mephisto fucking her as only a man could, in a man-sized way with his gigantic cock. She wished that he could hold it inside of her forever.
Mephisto's job was lessened somewhat as the inside walls of Betty's cunt sucked and rubbed hungrily at his slippery dong. He told her that he was about ready to come. They worked in unison to achieve the dramatic climax that hit them like a bursting dam. Mephisto felt a twitch in his balls as he ejaculated great spurts of jism with fire hose force into her hot snatch. Betty's own love juices mingled with his to make a sticky, smelly coating on their genitals. But it was an eminently satisfying feeling.
Mephisto was never satisfied with one fuck. It was like one kiss, he said. One just naturally led to another. So he gathered up his clothing and Betty's and led her up to the bedroom for another session on the bed. He pushed the twin beds together so they would have more room to shift around. His spent cock hung down long and limp, but as he moved about it bounced back and forth.
Betty sat and watched, letting Mephisto take command and do things his way. He had lit another joint for her and she puffed away contentedly. All she was concerned with at the moment was getting into the bed, in Mephisto's arms and him between her long legs to fuck her.
When the bed was ready, he joined her in a last minute smoke, putting his arm around her bare shoulder as he did. Neither one had put on any article of clothing as they moved around the house. They were stark naked with their healthy young skins glowing in the rosy hue of the soft light. With his genitals and her nipples in their normally relaxed state, the two of them would have made perfect statues of modern youth.
The combined headiness of marijuana and sex had lifted them both five feet off the ground in spirit. Putting the half-smoked joints aside, they collapsed in a mass of arms and legs on the springy bed.
Mephisto fastened his mouth on Betty's ripe, bouncy tits and sucked each one in turn. While his lips slavered over one nipple, his fingers felt and tweaked the other until both teats were nut-hard in their rigidity. He ran his hand slightly up and down her legs, feeling the satiny softness of her thighs which parted to let his digits creep around inside.
He gently squeezed the soft pillows of her ass, thrilling at the incomparable smoothness of the twin cheeks. He took his fuck finger and shoved it into the crack, ramming it up her asshole. She jumped, startled, but then it felt good as he pulled it in and out. She enjoyed the sensations his rough finger made on the walls of her ass and she told him so.
That gave Mephisto an idea. Something he hadn't intended, but which now seemed ideal.
He got her to spit on his now stiffened cock until it was wet and slippery. Then he turned her over on her stomach and spread her legs as wide as they would go. With his hands, he pulled the cheeks of her ass apart and ran his own tongue up the crack in order to help lubricate his pathway even more.
Betty tightened involuntarily as he pushed the knob of his dong into her divide. Mephisto leaned closer to her and whispered for her to relax and let it come easy. He shoved his palms under her and cupped her partially flattened tits. Then he again shoved his dick forward, gaining entrance to the sphincter. The spit was proving to be an effective lubricant and Betty was beginning to relax and accept his entry. Once he had gotten past the all important muscle at the entrance, he was able to tenderly press onward and inward. With each succeeding inch of hard cock that Mephisto shoved up her ass, Betty was certain she would be able to tolerate no more. She felt as though she were being split apart. Or that she had been pronged by a telephone pole.
By patience and by virtue of past experience, Mephisto was able to achieve full penetration. Her ass was pressed tightly to his pubic bush and his balls nestled comfortably in the division of her split cheeks.
Though her asshole was tighter than her cunt, his rod had plowed its way up the old dirt road to make the fucking a success. As he shoved in and out, her ass worked like an electronic suction pump in its grip on his long member.
He finally came with such force he felt like his vitals were being sucked out of him through his erect penis. The sudden rush of semen flooded her insides and Betty gasped with delirious joy.
In all, Mephisto put the boots to her six times and they each enjoyed a multitude of orgasms before falling into a sound, restful slumber. The drugged cigarettes had heightened their senses so acutely and the sex had so enervated their desires, that they had been flying too high to settle back to earth. The sleep that overtook them proved to be a blessed relief after the journey into space.
They never heard a sound when the gang began to return to the pad. Records played and the conversation was boisterous, but Betty and Mephisto were on a trip prescribed by nature.
CHAPTER THREE
The guy stood there and looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair was thick and wavy, almost down to his very broad shoulders. The sideburns grew long and to a point along his cheeks. His blue eyes and clear complexion gave him that clean, boy-next-door look.
But the wild hair-do and far out clothes spelled hippie. He wore a multi-colored, open-necked sport shirt with a string of beads and a bell hanging round his neck. Under the flowing shirt he had on skin tight, peppermint-striped pants that flared to a bell shape at the bottom. Brown, Indian-style sandals completed his picture of sartorial splendor. There was a tattoo on his left bulging bicep. It read, Death Before Dishonor.
He was neither a hippie nor the boy-next-door. He was a cop. A detective being pressed into undercover duty for the narcotics squad. His name was Vernon Puck and he hated the assignment. Not because of the spying and squealing involved. Hell, he had done that too often to be concerned. Just doing his duty. But he didn't like the business about having to mingle with the dirty-ass hippies.
It was going to be a rough job. He hoped the phony tattoo wouldn't wash off before the assignment was completed. And he hoped he could forget his rigid habit of combing his hair whenever it became unruly.
Across the room, the police captain studied him carefully. He looked Puck over both fore and aft to try and detect any giveaway flaws.
"Whatta'ya think?" asked Vernon Puck.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," said the captain. "If I didn't know who you were, I'd arrest your ass right now for suspicion and vagrancy. You look perfect."
"Jesus Christ!" moaned Puck, tugging at his crotch. "How the hell can they wear them this tight? I feel like if I turn the wrong way, I'm going to castrate myself. Can't I wear some looser without any shorts on."
"Sorry. You'll just have to get used to it. That's how most of them dress, and we don't want them to get suspicious of you just because you're afraid you might get your balls pinched."
"That's easy for you to say, Captain. It's my balls that are taking the beating," said Puck, but with a smile on his face so that his superior wouldn't get sore.
"Okay," said the captain. "You won't be taking a bath for a while, so just don't get caught in a downpour and that tattoo will stay intact. If something does happen to make it run or begin to wear off, just make a joke of it. Say you pasted it on just for the hell of it. It's only there anyway to make you look a little more rough and tumble."
"In this get-up I look more like a goddam fairy gone to seed," complained Puck.
"Take my word for it, boy," assured the captain. "You look the part to a tee. Don't worry about it. We've got to think of a name for you, though. Most of these creeps make up a new name for themselves, probably to mask their true identity. All you need is one handle."
"That's what bothers me, chief. Dressing like this is one thing, but I'm liable to goof when somebody calls me by a name I'm not familiar with." Puck screwed up his face to dramatize his concern.
"I've got it," beamed the captain. "From now on you're just plain Puck. If anyone wants to know why you call yourself that, just tell 'em you liked the character by that name in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. That should satisfy them. And you can't go wrong, being that's your name anyway. How does that grab you?"
"Right here," said Puck, holding his crotch. "No, seriously, Captain, I guess that is the best idea. I just hope there's nobody around named Vernon, or I will slip up."
The captain patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and told him not to worry.
"Just keep in mind," he went on, "the type of character we decided would be best for you to play. You're a loner and you don't talk much. Nobody asks you questions and you don't ask them any. Keep a tight lip and you'll find them putting their trust in you. Open up just enough to gain sympathy when necessary. Don't overact. Do whatever you have to, the whole bit. If they give you shit to smoke, smoke it. But if you're given LSD, try to palm it and substitute something else that's harmless before you take it. The sex kick is there that's part of the whole scene. I'll leave that up to you. Go as far as you have to for realism. Just make sure they're old enough. We don't want to get tangled up in any statutory rape cases. And keep in mind that we're not looking for kids with a handful of marijuana cigarettes in their pocket. We want the sons of bitches who bring in the stuff. Pull in one good pusher and we might be able to clean up the whole network. For awhile, anyway," he added sardonically.
"How you gonna contact me?" asked Puck.
"I'm not," said the captain. "You contact me. I won't know where you're at most of the time, and I don't think it would be wise for me to try and see you on the sly. But you can call my private number anytime you're by yourself and have something worth reporting. Otherwise . . . you're on your own."
"Thanks a lot, I think." Puck wasn't too happy at the prospect of venturing into the Hashbury district posing as a bona-fide hippie. Not that he couldn't take care of himself. He was expert at karate and judo. But they had decided carrying a gun would prove too dangerous. If it was discovered he would really be suspect. Besides, the hippies themselves were supposed to be, rather peaceful by nature, despite their unkempt appearances.
Puck was essentially a fastidious person. He was worried about reverting to the habits of a lifetime at a crucial time when it might be noticeable to others. The putrid body odors he knew he would encounter among the hippies offended his innate desire for personal cleanliness.
He and his superior officer went over all the last minute details, making sure Puck was up on the proper hippie vocabulary. That he was familiar with most of their habits and hangouts. Puck had already smoked marijuana several times under the close scrutiny of the department doctor, who studied his reaction to the drug. Puck claimed that it made him no higher than a mild drunk and the doctor verified that he had control of himself at all times.
Though he carried no wallet for this caper, Puck did have several dollars folded up tightly in one pocket. He knew that the hippies ate hit or miss style, as they could get it. There was no reason for him to go hungry, so the money would assure him a fast hamburger now and then. If any hippie buddies saw him at a snack stand they'd only assume that he had panhandled the bread like everyone else.
Puck's only other clothing accessory that he took with him as he left headquarters was his old Navy pea jacket. It would come in handy on the cold nights and was right in style with the hippie set.
He went directly to Haight-Ashbury and began wandering the streets as other hippies were doing. A few greeted him and gave him the sign of peace, which he returned. So far, so good. At least he was being accepted on appearance alone.
It had been years since he had walked so much and it was getting to him. He decided to stop in a coffee house and park his ass for awhile.
The sign read, Zombie's Espresso, so he went in. Despite a good-sized crowd, he managed to get a table to himself. He nursed a cup of coffee and looked around nonchalantly at all the characters in the place. Surprisingly, the smell wasn't as bad as he had anticipated. A few of the hippies actually were clean looking. But on all of them the clothes were unwashed and un-pressed. He noticed that there were four times as many males as females in the joint. Puck figured that must prove that the young men of the nation were all going to pot. He made a mental note to remember that pun for the captain's benefit.
Hippies kept coming in the place, but few left. They lingered for hours over empty coffee cups, smoking and talking. One bearded young man came and sat at the table Puck occupied. No formalities were observed. No, "Is this seat taken, sir?" queries. He just sat down with his cup of hot coffee and engaged Puck in conversation as if they had been old buddies.
"Man, the action's jumping here today," said the beard.
"Is it always this crowded?" asked Puck.
"Not this early," was the reply. "They usually get here later in the evening. You never been in Zombie's before?" It was asked matter-of-factly. Idle curiosity.
"No, I just hitchhiked up this morning from L.A. I heard it was a groovy scene." Puck felt strange saying the words, but he seemed to be saying them right. The beard betrayed no flicker of suspicion.
"Hey," cheered the beard quietly. "L.A. used to be my old stomping grounds. Been quite sometime since I left there. What's the scene these days?"
Balls, thought Puck. I would draw a guy who's been there. Fortunately he remembered a good bit about L.A. from his visits to that town.
"Bad scene, man," said Puck in a confidential tone. "I had a pad near Sunset and Cahuenga, but too many teeny boppers came around and spoiled things. They brought the fuzz trailing after them. I moved over to the Los Feliz district and shared a pad with ten guys and four gals. We had some wild parties, man. But one of the guys got busted for possession and suspicion of pushing and he started singing like a canary. They raided the pad one night when I happened to be sleeping at this little bird's place. I was clean, but the heat was on. So I blew town. I heard Frisco was a better deal anyway for being able to turn on."
"You heard wrong," said the beard. "Oh, you can turn on easy enough. Plenty of shit around. But there's fuzz all over this place, too. Goddam cops have been sneakin' around more and more lately. They're a vicious bunch of mother fuckers."
"I'll drink to that," Puck said, lifting his cup.
"So you're new to Hashbury," the beard went on. "Got a place to flop?"
"Not yet. I keep pretty much to myself, but I'd like to get in a pad where there's a bunch of others around. That way you always got something going on. Dig?"
"I dig, man," echoed the beard. "I like to be where it's happening myself. Of course, I got to. I got a few things going."
"Oh," muttered Puck interestedly. But he didn't dare ask what the things were. That would have to be volunteered. Probably at a later date.
"Say, man," uttered the beard, as though the thought had just occurred to him. "Why don't you fall in at the pad I live. It's a big house. It's crowded, but like, there's always room for one more. We got the swingingest group in town, man. Like, when we turn on, we go the whole route. We got shit to suit every taste, you dig?"
"Sounds groovy. Any chicks on the premises?" Puck wasn't really interested if girls were there or not. He was mainly concerned with the drugs. But he had to maintain a believable image. The hippies openly expressed their individual preferences for boys or for girls, and many intermingled their sexual drives just for kicks. The only ones not interested in sex were so far gone on junk that nothing but drugs mattered to them.
"Birds up the ass, man. There's more pussy floating around here than you can shake your dick at, believe me. And there's plenty of young, juicy cunt arriving everyday just aching to get fucked. I tell you, this long hair really gets 'em. If all those straight guys knew how fast these gals pull down their pants at the sight of long hair, man, there'd be a revolution. Man, nobody would get a haircut," he laughed, with Puck joining him.
"Same way in L.A., " added Puck with all the bravado of a seasoned cocksman. "I hadda fight them off. Mucho pussy. All on account of this long hair," he said, fingering his lengthy locks.
"Between you and me," said the beard in a hushed tone, "I only let my hair grow long because I heard about all the ass being passed around. I've wanted to grow a beard, so I figured, why not go all the way and make the scene. You know, man?"
"Yeah, man. Before mine got long, I used to worry about jerking off so much, you know? I just couldn't make out enough. But since I went long hair, I've never gone back to the old hand. My only trouble now is keeping them all happy." As Puck told his little lie, he wondered how much truth was in the bearded one's story about the girls all putting out so willingly for long hairs. If it were even partially true, then maybe the hippies weren't as nuts as he had previously thought.
"Well, man, I got some things to take care of," the beard said, rising from his chair. "Why don't you come with me now and I'll take you over to the house? You can find a stretch of carpet to sleep on and put your name on it."
"Good deal," said Puck, getting up. "Speaking of names, mine's Puck. Just remember that it's spelled with a P, not an F." He smiled as he passed along his little station house joke.
"Shake, Puck," beard smiled, extending his hand. "Everybody calls me Zap. And that's with a Z, not an S."
CHAPTER FOUR
Golden Betty had settled down to the routine of hippie living. Her initial experiences with marijuana convinced her that it was harmless to smoke. Curiosity urged her to try LSD, but she was still holding off there. As long as the brown cigarettes were available, she was content to smoke them.
The hippie routine of living was in no way normal or dull. No one knew just what they were going to do day from day. And it always presented a problem keeping enough to eat around the house. Because of having to take over her mother's chores at home, Betty just fell into the old habits of doing the dishes and cleaning up in general. Once in awhile, one or two of the other girls might lift a finger, but mostly they were satisfied to let Betty handle it.
As for the boys, their energies were channeled anywhere but domestically. Sometimes they showed up to sleep, and most always for meals, and definitely always for the drug parties. Otherwise, they vanished for hours or days at a time.
It was Mephisto's house, so he was usually around. He was not averse to sleeping around, but since Betty's arrival they became a steady twosome. They had never pushed the twin beds apart again. Mephisto did insist on moments of solitude when he wanted no one, not even Betty, to bug him. She was able to sense his moods and keep out of his way.
He had many moods, not all of them depressing. One day he wanted to take her to the zoo. Since he wanted her to dress up as a boy, they had to find suitable clothes. His own were too big for her. And most of the other guys wore clothes that weren't too much different from the girls' anyway. Somehow they scraped together an outfit that did the job.
Anybody who got a close look would be pretty sure she was a girl in boy's clothing. But from a short distance away, she gave the appearance of a very effeminate boy, gay as the May and maybe even queen of the cock-suckers.
Mephisto liked to put people on. As he and Betty strolled nonchalantly around the zoo, he took every opportunity to hug and kiss her publicly with lavish displays of affection. They held hands continually.
Happily, the reactions he expected, became audible to his ears. Random mutterings of, "Disgusting."
"Lousy fags!" 'Tansies in the park, tra la" And, "Fuckin' queers!" met them at every turn. It wasn't that people were amazed to see what they assumed to be two queers together, but the fact that they would so openly flaunt their aberrant behavior in public by affectionate displays irritated the onlookers.
While he and Golden Betty were standing in front of the lion's cage with arms around each other's waist, Mephisto noticed two young punks nearby gazing in his direction. One made some remark to the other and pointed towards him. Mephisto was afraid there might be trouble. He didn't mind the insults as long as that's all they were, but tough punks liked to start fights.
Taking Betty's arm, he guided her away from the lion compound, but in so doing they had to pass nearer to the punks. One kid kept looking in the cage at the beasts and said to his friend, "What do you suppose they like to eat?"
The friend kept one eye cocked toward Mephisto and replied, "How the hell should I know? Why don't you ask one of those cock-suckers over there?"
Mephisto didn't want to fight, but he couldn't let that pass. Besides, he wanted to show this punk up. He told Betty to stand where she was and he approached the surly boy.
"Were you by any chance directing your remarks in my direction?" asked Mephisto with mock politeness.
Without answering, the punk nudged his pal and said, "Hey, Joe, look. If it ain't one of the flower children. La de da de da." His pal kept his head turned purposely, not wanting any trouble.
"All I want for you is love and peace, brother," said Mephisto, but without his usual conviction.
"Buzz off, Goldilocks," snarled the punk. "Go back to your little nance over there."
"You can insult me," answered Mephisto, "but there's no reason for you to insult my charming friend." He was pleased at how the snotty kid was playing right into his hands.
"Your charming friend! Hah!" mimicked the punk. "If I were you I wouldn't brag about having cock-suckers for friends."
"How do you know so much about cock-suckers?" asked Mephisto quietly.
"Are you kidding? That little fag you're with walks more like a girl than a girl does. And all queers suck cocks. You oughta know that. You're probably queer yourself."
The punk spit out the words scornfully.
Mephisto's composure remained unruffled.
"No, I'm not queer. I like girls. And when I'm out enjoying the sights with my girl friend I don't expect her to be insulted by crude remarks."
He spoke without rancor.
The punk's pal tried to get him to leave. He didn't want any fights that might bring in the cops. He'd already had enough trouble just getting on probation after his last fracas. But big mouth persisted.
"Don't try to tell me that's a girl, flower boy. I know you guys like to pass your drag queens off as females, but I know better. Why don't you just tuck him under your arm and blow!"
When he said that in a menacing tone of voice, Mephisto was temporarily willing to do just that. Rather than risk a brawl just to have some laughs, maybe he should grab Betty and make a fast exit.
But then, the wise guy was too sure of himself. Mephisto couldn't resist the urge to show him up in front of his pal and the other spectators.
He called Betty over to where he was standing. When she got close, he told her to remove the restrictive bobby pins holding her hair in place. As the soft blonde locks cascaded down the sides of her face, no one needed to be told that she was indeed a real girl. Mephisto also had her remove the thin windbreaker that had effectively concealed the very obvious outline in her shirt of her healthy mammary endowment.
The punk gaped, wide-eyed. Then he began apologizing profusely. Everybody else just joined Mephisto and Betty in a good chuckle.
As they prepared to take their leave, Mephisto sidled over close to the punk's ear and whispered, "You were right about one thing. She is a cock-sucker!" Then he winked broadly and left.
The boy with the big mouth could think of nothing to say.
About an hour or so later, Mephisto and Betty were walking along Sutter Street headed towards Market. A police car drove past and the cop looked at them strangely. He turned his vehicle around and pulled up to the curb alongside the couple.
"Hey you! C'mere," yelled the fuzz to Mephisto.
Mephisto was irritated by the fuzz's gruff invitation, but he held his temper.
"Did you want me, officer?"
"No bonehead. I was talking to that telephone pole over there."
"Christ!" thought Mephisto. "One of those guys." He wondered what kind of crap this blue-coat would try to put him through. As soon as they saw the long hair and beads, the fuzz developed a wild hair up their ass.
"I'm here. What is it you want?" asked Mephisto, unable to conceal his contempt successfully.
"Let's get one thing straight, long hair. When the law talks to you, you just answer and don't get wise. See?"
As the cop spoke so infuriatingly, Mephisto got a better grip on himself. He knew this game from before. The fuzz was only trying to provoke him into doing something he could be booked for. So he turned the other cheek, playing the role.
"Sorry, officer. I didn't mean to be offensive, really!" said Mephisto in his meekest and mildest tone, which surprised Betty.
The cop was equally surprised and it registered visibly on his face. Mephisto's submissiveness had sort of pulled the rug out from under his interrogation.
"Well!" said bluecoat, thinking of something to say. "That's better. It's about time your kind learned to respect the law. You goddam kids think you can get away with murder. Somebody ought to slap the shit out of you for going around in clothes like that. The two of you look like fugitives from a Halloween party. If you were my son I'd make you get your hair cut so fast your head would spin," he said, looking directly at Mephisto.
"If I were 'your son, heaven forbid," thought Mephisto to himself, "then I could really be called a son of a bitch!" But he wisely kept the thought to himself.
"Now," the mouth of the law said, finally getting down to why he stopped them, "where are you kids coming from?"
"We were at the zoo most of the day, officer. Then we kinda just walked around. No place special," answered Mephisto.
"Just walked around, huh? Did you by any chance wander over to Grant Avenue?"
Mephisto thought just a moment and said, "No, not today. We go over there often, but not today at all." Betty concurred with him.
"You're sure about that?" asked the cop, glaring at them as if nothing they said could be believed.
"Honest, officer," broke in Betty. "We haven't been near Grant today. Could you please tell us what this is all about?" Betty had never before in her life been stopped by a policeman for any reason. Her own impatience with the cop was beginning to show through.
He returned her question with a look that was equal to a good belt in the chops. She withered under his icy stare as he had wanted her to.
"I'm asking the questions here, young lady. All you have to do is answer truthfully. If you haven't done anything you have nothing to worry about. Is that clear?"
Betty nodded her head sheepishly. It required all of Mephisto's will power to keep from taking a punch at the bastard. He could steel himself against insults, but he seethed seeing Betty get the treatment. Fortunately, he retained his cool.
"You claim you haven't been on Grant Avenue today. Well, if I were you, I wouldn't venture over that way today. Several Chinese merchants said that some hippie types were over there shoplifting earlier. Everybody knows that all hippies are shoplifters. I ought to run you two in just for the hell of it. I can think of at least a dozen reasons why you ought to be locked up," said the cop menacingly, pausing to let his words seep in.
"Name one," thought Mephisto, but he said instead, "We haven't done a thing wrong. Honest. Just went to the zoo."
"And maybe our clothes and hair do look funny to you," he thought, "but what we wear and how we look is none of your goddamed business!"
"Yeah. The jail is full of people who've never done anything," said the bluecoat sarcastically.
"Please, officer!" whimpered Betty, pleadingly. Her sweetness and sincerity reached through to the cop, who had absolutely no intention of arresting them anyway.
"Tell you what I'll do," he said in a less harsh tone of voice. "I'll give you kids a break and let you go this time. But if I ever catch you again, I'm running you in. Is that clear? Now go straight home and behave yourselves." He got back into his patrol car.
"Catch us doing what?" thought Mephisto. "Walking along the street? Is that even against the law now? Thanks for the break, officer," he fumed inwardly. "I'd like to break your goddamed neck!"
As soon as the police car had pulled a safe distance away, Mephisto unleashed a verbal barrage that made Betty's cheeks turn crimson. It was the foulest language she'd ever heard. Finally, collecting himself, Mephisto apologized to Betty.
"I'm sorry, Betty, but I had to let it out. It was building up inside of me the whole time that son of a bitch talked to us. He had no right to pull that shit on us. It burns my ass.".
"But Mephisto, he let us go. He could've arrested us," said Betty innocently.
He almost bit her head off in reply.
"Arrested us hell! On what charge? Are you out of your mind, girl? We haven't done anything. That bastard just wanted to give us a hard time, and he did. That's how cops get their rocks off."
"Well he said something about those shoplifters," countered Betty. "He could've arrested us on suspicion or something. He said so."
"Christ, Betty, it's easy to see you don't know a damn thing about cops. He had nothing to arrest us on. We were no place near Grant today. So how could he prove otherwise? All that crap about running us in is just to scare us. And his opinions on how we look and dress were completely out of line. The whole bit was against our basic rights as citizens." Mephisto was bitter in his denunciation of the law.
"Do you mean to tell me that policemen have no right to do what he did?" asked Betty.
"That's what I mean to tell you. He only stopped us because he didn't like our looks. Simple as that."
"You mean he lied about the hippie shoplifters on Grant?"
"I wouldn't doubt it. Look," said Mephisto, exasperatedly, "whether or not there were shoplifters on Grant has nothing to do with it. That's only an excuse. If we were just running away from Grant and concealing something under our clothes, then maybe he'd have a right to be suspicious. But look at the facts. We're on Sutter, walking casually along, minding our own goddam business. Not bothering anybody. Maybe we look weird to the straights, but not suspicious. Then old beer belly passes by and decides to have himself a little fun at our expense. He has no legal right to use his badge to degrade and humiliate us like that. And if you knew anything about cops at all, you'd know they get their kicks making somebody they don't like squirm."
Betty listened attentively, then added, "If all that you say is true, then why did you let him do it? I mean you stood there like a naughty school boy and let him scold you. I thought you were more of a man. Why didn't you tell him it was illegal."
Mephisto didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Though Betty's words irritated him, he realized her immense naivet�.
He decided to laugh, which irritated Betty, not knowing what was so funny.
"You are an innocent child, aren't you?" he said understandingly. "If I had blown my top with that bastard, then I would've been in trouble. He wanted to get a rise out of me. Why else do you think he kept needling us? If I'd told him what I really thought, or if I took a swipe at him, he would've had a reason for running me in then. That's what he was hoping for. It's tougher than hell bottling it up inside, but I figure, why should I go to jail just to make some stupid cop happy? He probably would've run you in too, as an accessory."
"I didn't think of all that," said Betty a little abashed. "But then, you said it was all illegal. You could tell them at the police station what happened. I'm sure they'd understand."
"Oh, they'd understand all right. They'd tell me that I had every legal right to tell my story to the judge, then I'd be thrown in a cell after being booked. After a night or two in jail, I'd go to court and see the judge. He'd hear the cop's version, then he'd look at my hair and clothes and listen to me. Who do you think he'd believe? A hippie's word against a good, clean upstanding cop? Hah!"
Betty took his arm in hers.
"I guess you think I'm pretty foolish don't you? I mean, there's so much about life that I don't understand."
"Nah," said Mephisto patting her hand. "You just haven't been around as much. It's a pretty dirty world out there. A lot of those respectable squares aren't so respectable. So, I ate a little shit. To me that's better than being locked up in jail."
"Now that you've explained, I'm glad too," purred Betty. "I'd be lost if they took you away."
"You know, Zap and I had a big argument about it one time. He says that it's better to say what you think and to stand up to the fuzz. Don't take any shit, he says. Let'em arrest you. You feel better for standing up for what you believe he says, but I don't see it that way. If you give a cop any guff when he's shooting off his big mouth, sure it makes you feel good. But only temporarily. Cause if you gotta go to jail, you're gonna be taking even more shit behind bars and there's nothing you can do about it. Justice? That's a laugh. The biggest fairy tale in the world is the one about being presumed innocent until proven guilty. In this world, if you don't dress and look like the straights think you should, then you're guilty of anything they want to throw at you." Mephisto allowed some of his inner bitterness expire with the spoken words.
"Why do you suppose people feel that way about us?" asked Betty, feeling herself to be a full-fledged hippie now.
"Because we're different. Because we're younger. They think they know all the answers. I got news for them . . . they don't even know what time it is. And anything different is always suspect to narrow minds. They think the world belongs to them exclusively. Well, as far as I'm concerned they can take it and shove it!"
"Hey!" cautioned Betty. "What about me? Don't I count?"
"Yeah," smiled Mephisto suddenly. "You count. And I count. We're the only ones who do count in this rotten, mother-fucking world!"
CHAPTER FIVE
The house was strangely silent as Puck surveyed the living room. His acceptance into their midst the night before had been accomplished with no fanfare at all. He remained a stranger living with a group of strangers. No questions were asked of him, nor was he willing to volunteer any information unless pressed.
Several couples either talked quietly or necked, while a few other solitary males like Puck, were lost in their own private fantasies. Many were puffing their brown paper cigarettes.
Under the pretext of staring off into space, Puck was observing the boys and girls. The smokers, especially, seemed to be floating in a euphoric trance. He wondered if they had any idea how close they were to flirting with a prison sentence.
As far as he had gathered, a character named Mephisto was the leader of the group. But only because he paid the rent on the digs. Puck had met him briefly, but he was out now with his chick. A dazzling blonde named Golden Betty. Puck had given her a good going over with his eyes. He had wished that she were available. He wouldn't mind fucking that little piece of stuff himself.
A couple of diggers had asked him if he had a joint to spare and he had said no. Then one guy offered him one so he took it. He realized he'd have to smoke it sooner or later so as not to arouse suspicion, but he was waiting for a propitious moment.
Every so often a few strange hippies entered or left the house. They all came and went freely as if it were their own home. There was no merrymaking though. Everyone appeared to be in the mood for quieter pursuits.
Watching some of the couples grow progressively bolder in their love play was making Puck horny. He hadn't had a piece of ass for over a week and he was feeling the pinch in his groin.
Out of nowhere a gorgeous brunette flopped beside him and introduced herself. He figured she must've come in with the last bunch, though he hadn't noticed.
"Hi. I'm Zora. Who are you?"
"Puck. You know . . . just like a hockey puck?"
"Puck. That's an adorable name. You're a very good looking man, Puck."
"Thank you. So are you. A good looking girl, I mean."
"You look lonesome over here all by yourself."
"Guess I just like my solitude."
"Don't you like girls?"
"Only pretty ones. Like you."
"Well! You do know how to say the right thing, don't you? Is it all right if I join you in your solitude?"
"Be my guest."
"You're a man of few words, aren't you."
"I say what I have to."
"I like men who don't talk much. They're usually men of action. I love men of action. My kind of action."
"What kind of action is that?"
"Boy and girl action. Dig?"
"I dig."
"You're a cool one."
"So I've been told."
"I'll bet I could warm you up."
"I'll bet you could."
"Have you got a joint."
"Just one. You can have it."
"Oh, no. I wouldn't think of it. I'll share it with you though. Okay."
"Okay."
He lit the cigarette and took a puff or two. Then he gingerly pulled the paper loose from his lips and handed it to Zora, who inhaled the smoke as if it were a heavenly scent.
Puck hoped his senses would remain reasonably clear. Someone had to be supplying the marijuana and LSD that these kids were using and he wanted to be awake and ready if a pusher should make himself known.
The passionate Zora was growing even more so with the effects of the drug numbing her brain. She had snuggled up so close to Puck that their lips were only inches apart as they passed the cigarette back and forth between them.
A bit of ash dropped down on the front of Puck's tight pants near the crotch, but as he went to brush it away, Zora's hand got there first. She nicked the offending ashes away and then let her hand remain, resting lightly on the bulge in his trousers.
Puck was still clear headed enough to debate in his own mind the action he should take. Should he finish the smoke and then tell Zora to get lost? That way he could keep alert for possible suspects. So far the drugs had appeared on an individual basis only. No quantities exchanged hands, at least not in front of Puck. And if someone did pull out a couple of LSD cubes, no one was crude enough to ask where or from whom they were obtained. Asking such a question would be tantamount to flashing a badge.
If someone wanted you to know their source of drugs, they told you. But don't dare inquire. Puck knew all this and he knew the only way to get any information would be to gain their complete confidence. That could take awhile. Also, it would require his participation in all their activities including the free love sessions that abounded.
He took another long look at Zora. She wasn't the kind of broad a guy would just push away. Either the effect of the marijuana was getting to him, or maybe it was just her hand on his crotch. He'd all but reached the conclusion that sex would take precedence. The chief had told him to go as far as he had to. Right then he was prepared to go all the way for his prick was hard and he wanted a snatch in which he could sink it.
One thing disturbed him all the others sitting around. True, they were paying no attention to Puck or Zora, since they were on their own trips. But Puck believed in privacy where fucking was concerned. The hippies shouldn't suspect a guy just because he wants to sneak off someplace private to tear off a little pussy. After all, they accepted Mephisto and he used a private bedroom for his broad jumping activities.
A thought clicked in Puck's mind. Mephisto and Betty were out. Why not take a chance on borrowing their bed just for a quick piece?
While Puck was thinking it over, Zora's hand was busy measuring the granite-like ridge that ran halfway down his thigh beneath his pants.
"Ummm," she murmured. "You've got a big prick, haven't you?"
"Big enough to do the job," answered Puck dryly.
"Take it out and let me see it."
"Not just yet."
"Why not?"
"Cause I got a place we can go to."
"What's wrong with right here?"
Puck pondered that question. She had a point. He took another glance around the living room. Three couples and a few singles had discarded most if not all of their clothing. The room was very dimly lit, but bodies were actively engaged in fucking of one kind or another. One bearded hippie openly stared at a couple making nude love while he played with himself. Near him, another young man watched him jerking off and was masturbating himself.
"What a sick bunch of kids," thought Puck. No, he couldn't stay there and fuck. He'd feel the unseen eyes glued to his bare ass and that might kill his desire and there was nothing more humiliating than wanting to fuck and not being able to.
"Come with me," he said, taking Zora by the arm. Despite the darkness, he felt foolish walking across the room with a huge hard on bulging out the front of his ridiculous looking pants. Zora followed easily, having beaten a path to Mephisto's bedroom previously.
Puck was unhappy to discover that the bed was not only unmade, but that the sheets had been there a long time between launderings. Soiled sheets showing many unmistakable come-stains, and someone else's at that, offended his sensibilities. But as he and Zora began undressing immediately, the unpleasant thoughts were dispelled by the throbbing prick below his navel and the sight of Zora's naked body, with her wide, flaring hips punctuated by the lovely thatch of cunt hair.
Zora and Puck each admired the other's body. Zora turned out the bright bulb and switched on the soft red one on the dresser. Puck was glad to see that she knew her way around. For him, she was just a lay, and he wouldn't have to worry about her becoming possessive just because he threw her a bone into her pussy.
They hit the bed simultaneously and began feeling each other up while their tongues met in a hot, wet kiss. Puck ran his large palms up and down the white, fine-textured skin of Zora's young and lovely body.
He had been relieved to see, when she had undressed, that she was clean. Apparently she was one hippie who believed in taking baths regularly. She wore no perfume or cosmetics, but her clean, natural feminine odor was intoxicating enough for Puck. The sweet smell of young, pliant, female flesh so close to his nostrils, sent his erotic senses reeling.
Puck remembered how, as a teenager, he had often sneaked into his older sister's room when she was out and sniffed her worn underwear. It had excited him greatly, sometimes to the point of coming in his shorts. Though he believed that he had never entertained thoughts of incest, he sometimes wondered just what would have happened if the opportunity had ever arisen. His sister had been a real beauty. But for Puck, it was the female odor on her garments that was the main attraction. Almost any female could've worn them. Hers just happened to be more accessible or so he told himself.
Thank god it hadn't been a compulsive fetish. In the course of his police career, he'd seen men who had been arrested for actually stealing women's clothes off the clotheslines just to satisfy their fetish-driven urges.
A near-embarrassing moment occurred when one cop cracked to him that if the jokers liked female apparel so much, why didn't they just buy some instead of stealing. Puck had come right back by stating that the clothing had to be that which had already been worn because the guys liked to sniff the garments, even if the smell was only imaginary after a good laundering. The joking cop and another who was present jumped on Puck, kiddingly, and asked how he knew so much about it. He blanched, but then explained that he had studied the subject in an Abnormal Psychology class in college, which indeed he had. That course had given him a better understanding of his own problem. Thankfully he could satisfy his lustful desires in the normal way, though it was still the intimate smell of cunt that stimulated him the most.
Zora nicked her tongue teasingly all over the usually dormant, but sensitive areas of his face and ears.
He reluctantly withdrew his head from her liquid caresses and moved it downward to her chest area. He spread hot, wet lips hungrily over the taut nipples of her spongy-soft tits. He moved his mouth up and down on each tit with repeated suckings, causing Zora to twist and writhe from the intense pleasure he was giving her highly sensitive nipples.
Her other erogenous zones were also being explored by Puck's restless hands. He especially liked to feel and caress her silky thighs. Despite their firmness, her legs were as smooth as a baby's backside. He ran his fingers through the tight knot of curls at her pubis and diddled the crack of her snatch just enough to feel the moist lips part.
Moving his large palms over her round, full hips, he shoved them under her to cup the twin pillows of her ass. He rubbed his hands over and around her ass cheeks tenderly, reveling in the ultra-soft springiness of them. He poked a curious finger up her tight asshole, which caused Zora to squirm in delight.
The pressure was becoming unbearable and Zora was urging Puck to take her. With little difficulty, he slid his cock into her ready receptacle. Her pussy readily admitted the full, awesome length of hardness and drew the organ in up to the testicles that bounced loosely with each succeeding jab. Puck plowed into Zora with all the enthusiasm of a sailor returned from ten months at sea.
They both came in unison with explosive fury, spurting hot, sticky liquids in prodigious quantity. Zora wanted more action, so they rested only briefly before starting again. As they began to get warmed up good, Mephisto and Betty walked in the door.
No one got excited and no voices were raised. Mephisto knew that others took advantage of his absences to use the bedroom. Puck almost made an apology for being there, but then realized that it would sound out of character. So instead he tried to play it cool by dropping his legs over the side of the bed and saying, "Hi, man. Didn't expect you back so soon. Me and the chick here'll blow."
"No hurry," said Mephisto. "We can wait downstairs."
As he and Betty turned to depart, Zora spoke out.
"Wait! Why not make it a foursome?" she asked hopefully.
Mephisto looked at Betty and then at Puck. "Okay by me," he said. "If your boy friend doesn't mind?"
Puck didn't like the idea at all. But goddam it, he was a hippie so he'd better well act like one, he told himself silently.
"Be my guest," said Puck casually, as if had always been receptive to mass orgies.
Betty didn't speak, but she was willing to do whatever Mephisto wanted her to do. They both removed their clothes quickly and piled on the bed with Puck and Zora.
The fun and games began and after awhile, the couples downstairs got curious about the commotion and came up to investigate. No less than six couples and a few odd strays piled in or around the bed during the carnal gymnastics and every type of fucking position, plus a few innovations were employed at one time or another. Puck was amazed to watch the hippies fucking, for there seemed to be no particular pairing off. He watched while one girl went down on a large, stiff prick, while at the same time she was being fucked dog-fashion by another hippie. The only exclusive couple, besides himself and Zora, he could see, was a pair on the end of the bed sixty-nining it like pussy and cock were going out of style. And after the orgy had been under way for a while, he saw that some of the boys were not exclusively heterosexual, either, for more than one boy sucked the cock of another. The thought of them swallowing come made him a little sick, but he knew he had to conceal his feelings in order to maintain his disguise.
Around five a.m. somebody suggested a daisy chain, and all the hippies acclaimed the idea with enthusiasm though Puck wondered how they could have any jism left after the many orgasms he'd witnessed.
Mephisto took the lead and buried his face in Golden Betty's pretty blonde pussy fur, and one of the other girls dove for his man-sized cock. A hippie stepped in behind her and began working his prick not into her cunt but in her ass-hole, and when connection had been made, he turned to find a snatch near his face for him to suck and lick. And so the chain was completed, until finally only Puck was left. There was no way, from the complicated pattern the group made, that he could complete the circuit, but he moved forward to suck the cunt of the last girl in the line. When his face disappeared into the moist gash between her legs he was overwhelmed by the intense femaleness of the odor. This was what he had sought all his life but had been afraid even to suggest it with the many women he'd fucked for fear of being called a pervert. His prick stiffened of its own accord as he sucked and licked and felt the girl writhe and twist in ecstasy. Without even touching his prick he knew he was going to come if he could just continue inhaling the musky, heady odor of her pussy.
All around him there were moans and cries of ecstasy, for these people were experts in oral fucking, and more than one body spasmed through a climax and lay limp, unable to break the chain until everyone was finished. Puck felt the girl beneath him come violently, but when he started to pull his face away, she reached down and gripped him by the ears, holding his face pressed tightly to her pussy.
He didn't need another invitation, and thrust his tongue once again between her moist lips, seeking her clit, which he sucked avidly like a baby at a nipple.
Where the stranger came from Puck was never to know, but suddenly there was another male in the room, standing over the writhing mass of bodies and when he joined them, Puck tried to scream and pull away. But the girl held his face buried in her pussy, so all he could make were some gurgling noises in protest, and when he began to heave his body in an effort to escape the indignity being offered him, other male bodies held him down.
And with a blinding flash of pain, Puck felt his virgin ass-hole split by a hard, hot prick. A few deep, digging strokes and he felt male come shoot far into him, and he was sick, puking all over her pussy.
It stopped the party not because anybody really cared how or why the stench of the puke made the room unpleasant, so the daisy chain broke up. They sorted out their clothes and left silently. The girl was in the bathroom, washing the disgusting juice from her quim, and Puck wondered which one of the bastards had sodomized him.
But as he looked down at his naked body, he realized he had come at the same moment as his ass-fucker. The though that he enjoyed it terrified him.
CHAPTER SIX
Zap walked into the coffee house with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his tattered field jacket. A few acquaintances nodded in his direction as he headed straight for the men's room at the rear.
One fellow idly wondered why Zap always wore his jacket no matter how warm the weather. He immediately dismissed the random thought in order to concentrate on the young lady who was reaching for his zipper under the table.
Inside the John, Zap entered the empty cubicle and sat down on the toilet, locking the door. He probed inside his jacket for the opening in the lining that he had securely pinned. When he got it open, he took out the folded paper money and counted it. There was still three hundred and fifty dollars in the kitty. He tried to figure in his head how much profit he could make if he dropped a hundred or so on the score.
He decided to skip the LSD this time and put it all on the marijuana shipment. By the time the drugs got to him, the profit was cut to the bone anyhow. At least the grass was easier to unload. Ever since that last batch of STP that had sent a dozen hippies screaming to the hospital, he was a little leery about passing acid. Besides, too many of the cats were learning how to mix their own. But there was always a ready market for grass, even if he had to peddle it to high school kids again.
He placed a paper clip around one hundred dollars and put that bundle in his back pocket with his handkerchief. The remainder of the money was shoved back into the lining with utmost care. His fingers flattened it out smoothly so no lumps or bulges would appear.
While he was adjusting his jacket, someone entered the John. He sat quietly waiting till they left, just listening to the splashing piss in the urinal and the flushing water. When the coast was again clear, he came out and went to the sink. He looked in the mirror, but wasn't pleased with what he saw. Why did he have to be so plain-looking, he wondered. The birds all went for the handsome guys. He usually wound up with the leftovers.
At least the hippie birds weren't as choosy as the straight birds. The beard helped to hide some of his homeliness. It scored points with the hip chicks too.
It burned his ass though that studs like Mephisto got first pick just because they were handsome. He was glad that Puck had moved into the pad so Mephisto would have a little competition. That Puck was a groovy cat. Plus being another potential customer for good old Zap's services, he hoped.
Zap didn't comb his hair because he didn't own a comb and he didn't wash his hands because it never occurred to him that they might be dirty. So he left the wash room, no tidier in appearance than when he had entered it.
He took an empty table near the back so that he could think about his plans for the evening. No sooner had he gotten coffee though than Euripides loomed up in front of him, smiling stupidly.
"Oh, Christ," moaned Zap. "Where the hell did you come from?"
"That's a fine way to greet a pal," said Euripides, sitting down without being in the least insulted.
"Look, Rip," spoke Zap. "I got things to think about. Things to do. Why don't you take yourself for a walk down to Market Street?" He talked without rancor, but obviously annoyed at being bothered.
"I just came back from Market, Zap. I collected almost a buck and a half in change. One lady gave me fifty cents. She told me to get a haircut with it." He laughed.
Zap forgot his annoyance long enough to laugh too. He could just picture the stupid broad in his mind. He told Euripides that one day a man had slipped him a dollar and told him to buy a razor with it. He promised he would. A week later the same old geezer comes up to him and asks him what happened to the razor he was supposed to buy? Zap assured him he had bought it, but that his mother was using it to shave her legs. The old boy got pissed, he said, and stalked away. Zap said he didn't regret giving the guy a hard time. He knew the cheapskate wasn't good for another handout anyway.
"That's pretty funny, Zap," laughed Euripides. "You got more guts than I have. Since I done so well today, I'm paying. Have another coffee."
"Good deal, Rip buddy. I'm running short of change anyway. Haven't had much luck lately. Say, while you're getting the coffee, get me a piece of that danish. I'm hungrier'n hell."
"I'll get us each a piece, Zap. I can afford to live it up."
Since Euripides was picking up the check, Zap permitted him to remain at the table and bend his ear for another hour. He wondered why Rip hung onto him like a stray puppy. No matter where he went, Rip was sure to turn up. That is, if it was one of their regular hangouts. The only way he could escape Rip's company was to lose him in a crowd and then take off for parts unknown.
Whenever they did go out together just hanging around, Zap would let Euripides spend his money on the two of them if he had any. When Rip was flat broke, Zap managed to ditch him in short order. He usually did it by sending Euripides down to Market Street to panhandle.
Zap would go out and panhandle coin himself once in awhile to put a good face on where he got his bread. Nobody in the hippie crowd knew about his profits as a pusher. He sold such small amounts to individuals no one thought twice about it. Three or four joints here and a couple of cubes there. Strictly small potatoes as far as narcotics traffic was concerned, but it kept him in easy bread.
Now he felt he was ripe for bigger things. He wanted to make a groovy score and split Frisco for other climes. His contact had hinted that there was an opening in New York for a pusher who wasn't afraid to score big. It called for an outsider because the fuzz was on to all the locals. He hadn't been promised a thing, but had been informed that if he was willing to finance his own way east, a meet could be set up with the proper people.
Zap was thrilled at the thought of moving into the big time, but it also scared him. New York was a hell of a big place and he had never been there. Some of the stories he'd heard though, made his flesh crawl. About how the mob treated guys who finked on them, or who didn't carry out assignments properly.
It made him think twice. Did he want to leave the relative security of Frisco where he was a free agent who was getting no place fast, or, did he want to brave New York where the real money and advancement could be had. Not to mention all the risks involved.
Of course the mob was operating quite effectively right there in Frisco, for that matter. But Zap hadn't been drawn into the organization, nor did he want in. He felt his destiny lay elsewhere if he were to pursue pushing on a full scale basis. The hippie group was here today but would most likely be gone tomorrow. Then he'd be just another half-ass pusher looking for high school kids out for a thrill.
No, he thought. He didn't want to go back to that high school routine, haunting the places where the kids hung out. The shrill teenagers drove him nuts plus almost causing his downfall.
That had been back in Dallas. His old man and old lady had plenty of money so he never was short of the necessities. They believed in free expression and let Zap, or Sigmund as he was then called, do whatever he pleased. When he was of age, he had an automobile before the other boys in his group.
What Mom and Dad didn't know was that their son had been recruited by a marijuana pusher outside the school football field. That had been Zap's first introduction to the weed and he loved it. He had been assured by the pusher that marijuana was non-addictive, but he wasn't told that for some reason, confirmed smokers of the stuff never seem to want to give it up.
Since Zap was popular and got around a good bit, the pusher used him to spread the grass to other students. He gave Zap a thin slice of the profits and taught him some of the tricks of successful pushing. Zap did resist the pusher's attempts to get him to try the stronger narcotics, nor would he encourage his friends to try them.
The marijuana parties did have an effect on Zap's school career that altered the course of his life. His once high grades began to drop dismally. A letter football man, he was dropped from the team for insufficient effort. Many girls stopped dating him because of the weird cigarettes he smoked and his increasingly bad manners. Whereas his school buddies had usually given the marijuana one or two tries, just for kicks, Zap had become a constant user of the stuff.
From big man on the campus to social outcast was too much for his ego. He got into fights almost every day. Inevitably, he was suspended and his parents were advised to seek psychiatric care for him. They were indignant and couldn't understand why their son was being so ill-treated by the school. Because of their own affairs, they hadn't noticed any appreciable changed in his normal behavior. He was still their darling Sigmund.
Zap decided to drop out of school, which his indulgent parents allowed him to do. He stayed from under their feet, so they never questioned where he went or what he did.
Even greater changes took place in his personality. He became morose and moody. His once effervescent personality had soured noticeably. He was certain in his own mind that he had fallen out of favor with the opposite sex solely because of his unhandsome face. So convinced of this fact had he become that he hated to see his own reflection in the mirror. Constant brooding only nurtured his growing paranoid tendencies.
He strongly suspected everyone was against him even the paranoids.
About that period, he had a particularly unfortunate incident with a whore he had picked up and taken home while his parents were out. She charged him ten dollars for a quickie. He hadn't been getting much nookie lately and he wanted to prolong the bed session. The prostitute refused unless he came up with another ten dollars. Zap had the money, but he tried to con her into giving in without payment. She rebuffed him sharply and told him that if he didn't pay, she wouldn't lay.
Zap wasn't thinking logically. He forgot that she was just a hooker out to make a buck. All he thought about was that she was a female and she was resisting his advances. He asked her point blank, why should he have to pay for just a little piece?
"Because I don't give away samples, you dumb jerk!" she replied heatedly.
"I'll bet you've given plenty away, baby," he said sarcastically.
"Don't get snotty, boy. I've got a living to make. Either cough up the dough or put your pants back on."
"Kiss my ass. I've, heard about how you tramps put out for free if a guy gives you a good fucking. I just had your ass in bed squirmin' a minute ago. Don't tell me you didn't like that."
The whore looked at Zap unbelievingly. She began laughing out loud as she continued getting dressed.
"Sonny boy, you've been reading the wrong kind of books. The only thing I put out for is money. You give me another ten and I'll squirm again. It's that simple. If you didn't have any cash I wouldn't give you the time of day," she spat out in a condescending manner.
"Suppose I owe you the money?" he asked, hoping she would fall for it so he could cheat her out of it.
"Are you kidding? Credit you want. Next you'll be asking for savings stamps. I'm strictly a cash and carry girl. I'm not listed with the better business bureau. Just call me next time you got the dough, okay?"
Zap was tempted to go ahead and pull out the ten dollars for. an encore, but decided against it. Her deprecatory remarks had completely diminished his physical desire. He even refused to take her back to where he picked her up. Instead, he gave her bus fare and sent her on her way.
That had been the final crushing blow to his already bruised and shattered ego. Scorned and scoffed at by a miserable, low down, two bit whore!
Suicide swept his mind but briefly, then another idea flashed through his depression. His old drug contact. Zap looked him up and told the guy he wanted to go into business as he had been offered before.
His career was started. Around town he visited various high school hangouts and because he was the same age, no one suspected him of devious purposes. He managed to get a lot of kids started on marijuana. They seemed to have plenty of money to spend and they were anxious to experiment with the drugs they were hearing and reading so much about.
Zap no longer had any reservations about hooking the kids on drugs. He was out to take care of number one and the rest could screw themselves. He scored LSD for the more daring kids. If any of them requested heroin, he got it for them. By moving all over the city he could make good money pushing drugs to the thrill hungry students. He was estimating what his yearly take might be when the bubble burst.
A scandal erupted at one school. Some kids had been caught having a marijuana party. There were hints that the drug use was widespread. Full scale investigations were threatened. Taking the cue from his own contact, Zap decided it was time to seek other pastures to graze in. He took his savings, told his parents he was sick of Texas and wanted to travel. Then he headed for California.
A few weeks in the eye burning smog of L.A. told him that there had to be a better place to live. A hippie he had befriended suggested he try San Francisco. So he did.
The Bay City was more to Zap's liking. At night the air was a lot chillier than it had been in Los Angeles, but it was a whole lot cleaner also. The beard he had started growing to alter his looks in case the fuzz might be on the lookout for him had almost attained full growth. It didn't make him handsome, but it did mask his homely features, he thought. And it put him right in style with the hippie colony he had joined.
Zap had found a happy home among the social dropouts who flocked everyday to the Hashbury district. There were mints of every type imaginable. Some, like Zap, were escaping the possible clutches of the law in other cities. Many were school dropouts and just plain runaways who were unhappy at home. The younger hippies often defected and returned home when they first realized that the parental discipline they had loathed was perhaps made up for by the regularity of home-cooked meals and clean clothes.
Some of the idealists who flocked to Haight-Ash-bury with visions of living the ideal life of no work and all play were quickly disillusioned by the filth, poverty and utter disregard for the niceties of life that only a home environment provided.
The hard core of hippies were using the group as a whole to escape the realities of a society with which they either couldn't or wouldn't cope. Their individual weakness was blended into a mutual strength, giving them some reason to live in what they felt was a purposeless life.
Taking drugs was new to most of them, but it was embraced by the reality-frightened youngsters who sought escape in any form that seemed easy and fast. Open defiance of the law became prevalent as new drugs were sought and experimented with by the long-haired guinea pigs. Marijuana was enjoying a great resurgence in sale within the United States. Smugglers and peddlers of grass were reaping fortunes.
The whole set-up was more than Zap could have wished for. He was accepted as one of the group. Since he knew the tricks of pushing drugs, he made his bread doling out small quantities of acid and weed. No one was wise to how much bread he made doing this but himself and his contact. A lot of the hippie gals put out freely to the nearest dick that was handy. And at pot parties, orgies usually developed that gave everyone a chance to stretch their sex muscles like the daisy-chain he'd found in Mephisto's pad and had gotten himself a piece of brown without asking.
Everyone was free to do as he pleased. But in each group or commune of hippies, arguments inevitably took place about who would clean up dishes, garbage, other messes, and who would cook meals. The girls, who thought they had emancipated themselves from household chores, usually wound up doing those necessary tasks. They had to, because the boys wouldn't lift a finger to do anything that smacked of domesticity. But the boys garnered most of the food, supplied the drugs and screwed the girls, so they were all relatively happy.
Not all of the hippies scorned work. A few took jobs delivering mail for the U.S. Post Office in order to get enough bread to score some acid or for other purposes. Zap had what amounted to a job also. Making his pickups and deliveries without running afoul of the law. He noticed that other pushers were posing as hippies also. Why not? It was the perfect cover. You were treated like a human being. No one asked any questions. All your neighbors or acquaintances were potential customers. In the subterranean society of the hippie, the pusher was not recognized as such, but was accepted as a friend who just happened to have access to the drugs. A distinction the pusher never enjoyed in upper strata of society.
The police knew better. They knew pushers had invaded the hippie community for only one reason and that was to ply their trade. Being naive and drug oriented, the hippies couldn't conceive that they were being thus used.
And Zap knew better also. He knew that the narco squad was zeroing in on the hippie movement. Many arrests for possession had already been made. Fuzz was constantly harassing the hippies by stopping and searching them under one pretext or another. Often the boys and girls were found with no more than a few stray slivers from a joint in their pocket, but it was enough to jail them.
As Zap sat in the coffee house thinking his own thoughts, unmindful of Euripides' endless, inane chatter, he remembered the meeting he had to make. He told Rip to guard his coffee while he went to the can. Then he slipped around the side and up to the front, exiting without being spotted by his trusting pal.
The black night was illuminated by the lights from the distant Golden Gate Bridge as Zap hopped off the cable car at Fisherman's Wharf. He turned left from the car turntable and strolled nonchalantly down through the park and onto the almost deserted fishing pier beyond the Sea Scout headquarters.
In the distance over the water, Alcatraz Island was visible against the dark horizon. It stood silent and remote, the very symbol of what it had once been used for. The anguished memories that had languished there for years, now haunted the gloom like the ghosts of an English castle.
Toward the far end of the pier jutting out in the water, Zap saw the old concrete circle that had once housed a children's wading pool, but was now empty. Sitting there was a solitary figure, smoking a cigarette.
Zap strolled over unhurriedly, sitting himself close to the silhouetted figure. He glanced cautiously around, his eyes now accustomed to the dark. A couple of other people were taking in the night air, but neither looked suspicious.
"Sorry I was a little late," said Zap in very low tones.
"You're lucky. I was just about to leave," answered the other figure. He was an undistinguished looking man in his forties.
Zap knew he was lying. The son of a bitch would've waited another hour if necessary. He was selling and Zap was buying.
"I got a couple of big parties coming up," explained Zap. "I need a hundred dollars worth of grass. Can you score me?"
"A hundred dollars," the other one whistled. "You must be going big time." And then he laughed derisively.
"Okay, can the shit," ordered Zap testily. "So that's only chickenfeed to you. So okay. You're getting the fat end of the stick too. I'm doing the best I can. This is a big score for me. Can you hit me?"
Zap really was mad. It griped his ass the way these guys made fun of pushers who only scored on a penny-ante basis. He was sick of listening to their shit. Once he made New York he'd really show them what he could do.
His contact continued chuckling, but in a more subdued vein. He didn't want to lose Zap's business, especially since it showed signs of growing in size and profit.
"Don't get your balls in an uproar, pal. Just having a little fun. You gotta loosen up a little. You're up tight, man. Just let me know when you want the shit?"
"How about tonight?" was Zap's anxious answer.
"Are you crazy? I don't carry that much stuff with me unless I got a taker. You shoulda told me before if you need it tonight. All I got on me is the one packet you usually pick up at this time."
"Okay," added Zap. "I'll take it. But when can you get me the big score? I'm in a hurry kind of."
"We're all in a hurry. The fuzz is in a hurry too. Just relax, boy. Can you make it here tomorrow night at nine?"
"I'll be here," Zap assured him.
"Have you got the money?" the figure asked warily.
"Of course. You'll get the bread when I get the score."
"Just checking. Eager beavers are sometimes more eager than they are beaver. You come up with the bread and I can give you a real score next week. I'm getting some peyote and methedrine. Those kids'll eat the stuff like candy. I can give you a good price on it, too."
"Sounds good," said Zap. "Bring me two hundred bucks worth."
"Hey, man," the astonished contact almost shouted. "You are getting up there. Sure you're not getting ahead of yourself? I don't want to come here loaded down and then have you show up empty-handed."
"I'll have it," said Zap, disgusted at having to defend his honesty to a goddam drug contact who would sell his own mother by the ounce if there was a market for her. "I'll guarantee it. It's my money and I'm taking the gamble. I got big plans."
"Okay, boy. But it's no gamble. Like I said, they'll eat the stuff like candy. I want your business, but don't let your plans get too big. The fuzz can smell everything that's blowing in the wind. If they get a sniff of you they might get a sniff of me. I wouldn't like that. Neither would my boss. So get all the business you can, but play it cool. You start big dealing it too much and next thing you know you'll be bending over and spreading your cheeks downtown."
"Just give me the stuff," said Zap irritatedly. "I didn't come here for a goddam lecture."
He handed over the necessary cash and was handed the plain brown packet.
"I'll see you tomorrow night then?" The contact.
"At nine. Sharp!" Zap snapped.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mephisto was pissed off to the eyeballs. Having a talented twat handy like Betty had its compensations, but it also had its drawbacks.
He had only recently begun the study of Zen Buddhism, reading about it almost daily. Now, Betty kept herself wrapped around him every minute. He felt like he was being stifled creatively. Not that Betty wouldn't let him read. She would. She would sit quietly by while he assumed his basic yoga position and read his books. But just the fact that she was there in the same room choked him. He felt a compulsive need for complete solitude when studying seriously, especially when he chose to meditate.
Mephisto roamed through the house, hoping to Bee Zap. He'd get Zap to take Betty off his hands for a few hours. Maybe take her for a walk through Golden Gate Park or someplace downtown.
Zap couldn't be found. Just about that time Puck entered the kitchen where Mephisto was fixing himself a cup of instant coffee.
"Mind if I join you in a cup?" asked Puck needlessly. Needlessly because everyone did what they wanted to anyway.
"Grab a cup," said Mephisto. "I've got plenty of water heating."
"That was some party the other night," said Puck in reference to the bedroom orgy that took place. m
"Yeah," agreed Mephisto. "Personally, I prefer duets in bed."
"There you go," smiled Puck. "My sentiments exactly. One bird at a time is my motto."
Mephisto spooned the instant coffee into two cups and poured the hot water. He gave Puck a cup.
"Speaking of birds, how'd you like to do me a favor?"
"I'm open to suggestions," Puck said, sipping the steaming brew.
"Well, I don't like to impose on you, Puck. I mean, you being here such a short time and all, I don't really know you. But it's just a little favor. I'm doing some studying and I go near out of my skull having anybody at all near me when I'm trying to concentrate. I can feel their waves or something and it's very distracting. So, if you don't mind, I wish you'd take Betty for a walk someplace today so's I can get in some important reading."
"Hell, man, I'll be glad to," answered Puck.
"That's great, man. I really appreciate it. I would've gotten Zap to do it, but I can't find the bastard."
"He's always running off someplace, isn't he?" Puck tried to sound rather unconcerned as he said it in an off-handed manner.
"Zap's kind of a turd. Always talking about some deal he's hatching. I think he's the busiest hippie in town. He may be a lot of hot air but he does manage to score joints when we want 'em, so I can't complain. I don't know where the hell he gets the stuff, but he's usually good for a small batch. He's harmless, I guess."
"Yeah, I guess," agreed Puck. But he didn't agree at all. He wanted to know more about Zap. If he supplied joints to the house, he had to be getting them somewhere. And who else might he be supplying? Puck wanted to ask Mephisto if they paid Zap for the drugs he brought in. Many hippies freely shared the drugs they were able to score for themselves. The ones who charged cash for them were definitely suspects as professional pushers. It wasn't black and white, though. Some hippies took payment for the drugs in order to buy food, or simply because they were in a long line of passers, all of whom had to put up a price to pass the stuff along. The pusher himself might sell his drugs to one guy, who in turn would sell it to another for a thin profit. And the sale could go on and on as long as someone was willing to pay a little more for the product. Though the sellers were violating the law by selling the drug, as well as for possession, they could hardly be classified as pushers.
Puck decided not to ask his question. It was too obvious an intrusion. He would just have to wait and observe things for himself.
He finished off his coffee and returned to the bedroom with Mephisto. After much coaxing, the two boys got Betty to agree to go to the park with Puck. She was reluctant to leave Mephisto, especially to go out with a man who was a virtual stranger despite their gang bang in bed. In em-emphatic tones, Mephisto insisted that he wanted to be alone and that Puck would look after her.
So she and Puck walked from Haight-Ashbury, downtown to Market, before heading for the park. Betty said she wanted to window shop for awhile. Puck agreed to go.
They walked along slowly, looking in windows and greeting the passing hippies who gave them the sign of peace.
"Are you happy, Golden Betty?" Puck asked.
He intended to find out all he could from her. He sensed that she wouldn't be as guarded in her answers nor as suspicious as the boys might be.
"That's a strange question. I guess I'm happy. Being with Mephisto and the hippies has changed my life quite a bit. Sometimes I miss my mother, but not often."
"Is she far away?"
"Yes. Philadelphia. It seems like another world now."
"You can always return, you know. I mean if things ever go sour for you around here."
"No," said Betty pensively. "I can't go back. The break is complete. I miss the good things I remember about home, but that doesn't add up to much. There are still too many ugly memories to heal to even think about going back. Having Mephisto look after me is the first real security I've ever known. I couldn't walk away from that."
Puck took her hand as they crossed the busy street.
"You can't run away from your responsibilities, Betty," said Puck in a serious tone.
"Responsibilities?" she laughed haltingly. "That's a strange word coming from a hippie. I thought the whole movement was against responsibilities?"
Puck flushed slightly. Here he was posing as a hippie and talking like a member of the enemy establishment. "Listen to me," he chuckled. "I guess old habits are hard to break, I was always too serious I guess, before I took up hip life."
He hoped that glib answer would cover his embarrassing slip in character. But Betty took him at face value and was only intrigued by the way he expressed himself. She wanted to pursue it.
"Maybe it's what they call a Freudian slip," she said. "You know . . . what you really mean underneath the surface. In fact, you're the first hippie I've run into who's been interested in my background at all. I mean . . . I was told that hippies never ask personal questions. Not so forwardly anyway."
"That's part of the hip philosophy," explained Puck. "But let's face it. We're all individuals and we usually revert to whatever we're used to. I guess I've just always been a naturally curious person. People .interest me. I guess in that respect you could say I'm only part hippie."
"You know, that's a good point," enthused Betty. "I have a hard time stifling my curiosity too. Especially about people I really like, like Mephisto. I want to know all there is to know about him. But I wouldn't dare ask. He blows his top if I ask him casually where he's been just when he's been out of the room for a short while. It isn't that he's seeing other girls or concealing secrets. I know he isn't. I just know it. But my tongue slips and he burns. He does love his privacy."
"There, that's what I mean," said Puck. "Mephisto is a private person. He was probably like that before he became hip. You were always curious, like me, so it's hard to shake. We've all got some hang-up that bugs us."
Betty was now completely absorbed in conversation with Puck. It had been ages since anyone had talked to her at such length and with genuine interest. She, herself, loved to talk, but Mephisto was very close mouthed. He hated small talk. He would talk at great length about various things to other boys, but he excluded her from the conversations as if she weren't too bright.
Puck was an interesting person. It was a pleasure to meet a hippie who actually thought about other things than drugs and sex. Betty chided herself silently for that assumption. She had no right, she told herself, to judge the hippies so harshly. After all, she had had very little to do with the hippie community as a whole. She didn't know what they discussed really. Her life in the select group had been confined largely to Mephisto and his companions at the house.
All that didn't alter the fact that Puck was an interesting man. And the first hippie really to express an interest in her as a person and not just as a sexual object. Mephisto had been warm and affectionate physically, but at other times, out of bed, he could be so distant. He liked to remain detached. For her part, Betty wanted and needed the feeling of close attachment.
She never wanted to be lost or lonely. Not as she felt when she found herself on the bus leaving the state of Pennsylvania.
"I'm glad I came for this walk, Puck," said Betty smilingly. "It's wonderful to be able to let my hair down and just talk. I guess I'm not much of a hippie either when it comes to not asking questions. I could ask a million. I mean, it's all so exciting. You've got all these boys and girls from just everywhere. I want to know where they all come from and how they lived back home. Why they decided to become hippies. Things like that. I can't help it if I'm interested. That's just my nature. How can anybody not be interested in other people? Especially people they live with and share things with? Wouldn't you just like to know everything possible to know about the other hippies living at the house?" asked Betty excitedly.
"You bet your sweet, round little ass I would," thought Puck to himself. But he said audibly, "To a degree, I guess, yes. I'm interested. Maybe not in everything, but some things. Like that Zap. I can't help wondering what it is he has to keep running off to take care of. Not that it's important. Just idle curiosity."
"I know just what you mean," agreed Betty. "Everybody else is so relaxed and carefree and Zap is always on the go and so tense. Even in the park on Sunday he seems preoccupied while everybody else is resting and singing. He's trying to be a hippie, but I think he's the kind of person who can't get used to not doing something all of the time."
"Well," mused Puck, "he does manage to get us some pot. I just hope I've got some bread handy next batch he brings around."
Betty smiled disarmingly at Puck and said, "Don't worry about that. I'll see that Mephisto gets you some when you want it. I don't smoke nearly as much of it as he does."
"Mephisto, eh?" Puck looked quizzical. "It's good to know somebody has bread. I'm almost stony broke."
"So is Mephisto. I'm letting him use the savings I brought from home. Really, I owe it to him anyway. I'm living in his house and he takes care of me. Besides, I wouldn't know the first thing about buying drugs. It's all a new experience to me. I let Mephisto handle all those matters. As a matter-of-fact, we're supposed to have a big pot party this week. Mephisto was talking to Zap about it the other day. Zap was saying something about getting a ,big haul that he would have to unload. You're invited to the party, naturally. It'll be right in the house. Mephisto said we'd all get high as a kite." She laughed at the thought of it.
"Do you like pot, Golden Betty?"
"Of course. Doesn't everybody? Everybody that tries it, I mean."
"I guess. But some people can take it or leave it. How about you?"
"I suppose I'm no different. I could take it or leave it I suppose. But why should that bother you?"
"Just that old curiosity of mine again. You know how it is. As a friend, I just want to warn you not to get too dependent on the grass. It can be a strong habit, you know."
"There's nothing to worry about," assured Betty. "Mephisto told me that marijuana isn't addictive. You can drop the habit anytime."
"But," cautioned Puck, "they claim that nicotine isn't addictive also. Have you ever noticed, though, how many cigarette smokers have trouble shaking the habit? Some habits, my dear girl, are pretty hard to break. I'd just hate to see a nice kid like you get hung up on a drug that's illegal."
"Boy! You really don't sound like the few hippies I've heard talk about the stuff. They encourage everyone to try pot. They say that soon the government will have to legalize pot because everybody will be smoking it. There's no harm in it, they say, and it will someday be as common as alcohol in the home."
Puck made a face.
"They say! They say!" he mimicked. "What about what you say. If you should get arrested the judge isn't going to be interested in hearing what they say. He's going to go by the law. You could get into some real serious trouble."
"I'm not exactly a child," countered Betty, offended by the little lecture. "Mephisto has told me about how to be careful of the cops. I never carry any joints with me when I go out on the street. I do my smoking only inside the house. That way I'm completely safe. So you don't have to worry about me, thank you."
"Please don't be mad, Golden Betty. I'm not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn't do. But I've been around. I've been in jail myself, so I know what it's like. Believe me when I say there's no such thing as a completely safe place from the fuzz. I know. They can get you no matter where you are. You wouldn't want to go to jail just for smoking a marijuana cigarette, now, would you?"
"Of course not. But why should you worry about me. You smoke them yourself, don't you? Are you worried about going to jail?"
Puck had a ready answer. He was playing the role all the way.
"Yes, I am. And it's stupid too. I've been in jail and I know how rotten it can be. Still I take chances. That's what I mean about getting hung up on pot. It's a pretty tough thing to shake, even with the threat of jail hanging over your head. I've got strong will power. And if I can't quit the weed, what chance do you suppose, an innocent kid like you has?" He paused and watched Betty closely as the effect of his words sank in.
"I guess I'll just have to take my chances," she replied, not knowing what else to say.
The conversation continued in the same vein for another fifteen minutes, with Puck endeavoring to put across a strong warning without giving himself away. But Betty had never been to jail although she had been threatened with arrest. And as long as Mephisto believed that their pot smoking sessions were safe, who was she to dissent? Puck saw that he was getting nowhere along that line.
Eventually they arrived at Golden Gate Park, where they lay on a grassy knoll in the sunlight. At Betty's insistence, Puck removed his shirt so that his chest could get a sun tan. And she hiked her dress way up her thighs so that her legs could get plenty of sun.
They discussed nature. All about the trees and grass arid the ocean. It was a subject both were vitally interested in and they pursued it avidly.
His mouth was dry so Puck got up and walked to the water fountain to get a drink. Golden Betty stayed seated, saying she wasn't thirsty.
When he came back to her, Puck squatted down in front of her. That was when he first noticed it. He sneaked another peek up the hiked up dress to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. Sure enough, Betty wasn't wearing any panties. The darkly blonde pubic curls were ample evidence of this. Her legs were stretched out and relaxed and parted in a casual manner. No one could see up her dress, however, unless they were in extremely close range in front of her, as Puck now was.
He tore his eyes away, ashamed of himself for looking and thinking the thoughts he was. But his natural male instincts got the better of him and he continued peeking at her exposed pussy.
Puck had to shift his squatting position twice in order to adjust his pants to accommodate the rising hard on in his tightening crotch. He tried to conceal the sign of his growing lust by hugging his knees.
Above the waist, Puck was trying to concentrate on what Betty was saying about the little boys playing with their kites nearby. Below the belt, he was thinking only about getting closer to that wet crack and slipping his hard dick in there all the way, so he could shoot his load of thick, white cream.
It made him think about the orgy that was held in Mephisto's bedroom. He, personally, had had his hands on many strange cunts that night. But of course, he never looked at the faces that went with them. Everybody just felt up or went down on any exposed genital of the opposite sex they found in the revolving pile of naked bodies. He'd consistently refused to think of his reaction to the buggering he'd endured.
Maybe . . . just maybe, he had already had a piece of that sweet little ass she had there. Even so, he'd like to get another piece right now.
But how to go about it. That would be a problem. Even though they had all been in on the orgy and love was pretty freely tossed around by the hippies, when one bird was more or less monopolized by one of the cats, other cats kept their hands off unless it was handed to them.
Sure, Mephisto didn't mind Puck taking his girl for a walk. But that didn't imply he wouldn't mind Puck trying to climb into her pants, orgy or no orgy. And Mephisto was really only half the problem as far as Puck was concerned. There was also the question of how receptive Golden Betty would be to the idea. He sure wouldn't mind playing a little hanky panky with her behind Mephisto's back, but he'd have to be reasonably sure that the feeling would be mutual.
If he made a dumb play for her goodies and she objected, she'd spill the beans to Mephisto who would most likely invite him to leave the pad permanently. Word would get around among the hippies and the others might also distrust him after that. He noticed that though the hips objected to living by the rules of society, putting them down as too restrictive, they actually coexisted in the group atmosphere with their own unwritten rules and regulations which were pretty well adhered to by all.
Puck knew he couldn't do much anyway in broad daylight in the middle of the rather crowded park, so he abandoned temporarily the idea of seducing Betty.
Suddenly the succulent pussy was snatched from his view as she leaped up and ran to a little boy who had tripped and fallen while running along with his kite in tow. Betty consoled the youth and helped him untangle the string on his kite. She called to Puck, who had not moved, to come over and join her.
Puck remained where he was. If he stood up he knew that his sexual arousal would not only be blatantly obvious to all, but could also constitute public indecency. He simply answered Betty by saying he was too comfortable where he was to move just yet.
Betty soon had the little boy playing again with a smiling face. Then she came back over and rejoined Puck. This time as she sat down, the dress was tucked between her legs, thus removing temptation from Puck's disappointed view.
"You like children, don't you?" Puck commented.
"Oh yes. I'd love to have dozens of my own someday."
"How will you do that, living as a flower child?"
"You know, Puck. Sometimes you sound like the most anti-hippie hippie I've ever heard. You seem to mistrust everything about the hippies. I can't understand why you're one."
Puck didn't say so, but he was glad that Betty had suddenly brought him up short. He had been slipping more and more out of character without realizing it. With anyone else the result might be disastrous to his assignment. However, he was sure that Betty would pursue her own suspicion no further, at least, than their present conversation.
"Okay, so I'm a paradox," said Puck lightly, passing it off in an easy manner. "Remember, I'm human as well as being hippie. But you're evading my question. You say you want kids, yet you live the free and easy life of a hippie. How do you propose to solve that little dilemma?"
"What has being a hippie got to do with it?" asked Betty. "A lot of hippie couples have babies. They seem to get along all right."
"Is that really what you'd like to have for your kids, Betty? Living in dirty old houses. Never enough to eat. And all sorts of people coming and going, along with the drugs being smoked, eaten, and what else. That's no way to bring up a baby."
Golden Betty looked at Puck a long time before replying.
"As a hippie myself, Puck, I resent hearing you talk that way. You're getting me confused. I have to admit that just as a potential mother someday, I do agree there's something in what you say. I would want my children to have things better than I ever had them. But then, I don't really know. I was brought up in a home that was supposed to be respectable and I wouldn't want to wish my childhood off on anybody. At least as a hippie, things may not be conventional, but they are happier."
Puck tried to reason.
"It just seems happier. Because you were so screwed up at home. But what about your future? Just how permanent do you think this hippie life will be? Sure, we're all living together now, happy and carefree. But will it last? We'll all get a little older and gradually the group will drift apart. And how serious do you suppose Mephisto is? Maybe you're number one girl now, but there were plenty before you and there will be plenty more to come. Mephisto isn't the type who wants to be tied down. The money you gave him won't last very long. Then what happens? He isn't going to work, you know that. So he'll panhandle, or he'll shoplift, or God knows what. Eventually he'll get caught and be arrested. One arrest usually leads to another. Face it, you're going to lose Mephisto one way or another."
Betty answered testily.
"You've got some nerve talking that way, Puck. Just who do you think you are? There's absolutely no reason for you to run down Mephisto like that. And my relationship with him is our business, not yours. Maybe things aren't perfect, but all I know is that for the first time in my life I'm happy and secure. Being a hippie has made me that way and if it takes everything I have to offer, I intend to remain a hippie. So there!"
Puck decided he had gone as far as he possibly could to dissuade Betty from the hippie life. A girl as in love as she was with Mephisto, either wouldn't or couldn't understand logic. He felt he should now try to patch the rift.
"I'll say one thing for you, Golden Betty. You're loyal as hell. I like that," he smiled, then turned very serious and continued, "I know I shot my mouth off a little too much, but it's only cause I don't want to see you get hurt. Sure, I'm glad to be a hippie. I'm not putting them down. It's just that I'm a guy and I've knocked around plenty. I know the consequences. Maybe it's just my protective nature, but I don't like to see a nice kid like you get pushed around. And it could happen. None of us knows what's going to happen tomorrow or the next day. But," he threw his hands up in mock surrender, "if you say this is the way you want it to be, who am I to argue? That's what I get for opening my big yap. Guess I ought to practice the hippie code of minding my own goddam business."
His sudden self debasement brought forth Betty's sympathetic nature. Apparently she had swallowed his explanation without reservation.
"There's no need for apology, Puck. I think I understand how you feel. To be perfectly honest, I'd like to have a good heart-to-heart talk about things with Mephisto, as you just gave me. But I wouldn't dare. He'd blow sky high." Then, remembering her own anger at Puck for his remarks, she added, "Like I almost did with you, I guess. Maybe we're all too sensitive about anyone telling us what to do."
"Maybe I'm a hippie," spoke Puck, "but I do recognize what our biggest hang-up as a group is. We'd rather make a thousand mistakes on our own than listen to one sound piece of advice. It's not very sensible, but then I guess that's why it appeals to us."
Puck was hopeful that a less aggressive approach might bring Golden Betty around eventually. In order to keep her confidence and trust though, he knew he'd have to quit his sounding off with establishment philosophy and concentrate instead on being a believable and likeable hippie companion.
"You're absolutely right," agreed Betty. "But I don't think it's so foolish, really. I mean, who has all the answers? Even the adults are always making mistakes, so they can't be too much better off than we are. At least when you make your own mistakes you're learning something. Even if it is the hard way. But when you think about it, advice is just the easy way out. Do what somebody else tells you and you don't have to make any decisions on your own. And if it turns out wrong, you just blame that somebody else for it. That way your own conscience remains clear. The solution is simple, isn't it?" she smiled mockingly.
"If there's anything I can't stand," joked Puck, "it's a smart bird. Here I was worrying about you and it turns out you've got brains after all."
Betty joined him in the laughter, and added, "You bet I've got brains. Why, I've got brains I haven't even used yet."
"Welcome to the club," was Puck's rejoinder.
They got more and more into a giddy mood and spent the rest of the afternoon kidding and teasing each other. Puck had successfully overcome the error of his un-hippie-like transgressions into Betty's privacy.
Despite Betty's haughty proclamations to the contrary, she had been deeply affected by what Puck had said, and the thoughts of just what the future held for her and Mephisto were tossing and turning violently in her mind as she played about with Puck. He had struck the responsive chord he had hoped he would.
It had begun to get late and Puck dutifully returned Betty to the house and to Mephisto. He hated to take his leave of her, but there was something more important he had to take care of.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Puck took a long walk until he had reached a neighborhood that was well out of the hippie district. He stepped in a pay phone booth near a gas station and called his chief. He made his routine report and then discussed the plans he had been formulating. The chief agreed to follow up on his suggestions.
When he returned to the house that evening, Puck sat in one of the few empty chairs and stared into space. The others present, having accepted Puck as somewhat of a loner, didn't disturb him while he was apparently doing his thing. They easily mistook his blank surveillance for a form of transcendental meditation.
Since he had to have his eyes fixed at one spot, he chose the entranceway, so that he could easily see who came and went.
The waiting game finally paid off. Zap walked in with Euripides and went in to see Mephisto for a brief time. After awhile they came out and talked to some of the kids sprawled on the chairs. Puck noticed that Zap passed a few joints to one of the boys who, in turn, passed some folded money to Zap.
When they got ready to leave, Zap tried to get Euripides to stay at the house and wait for him. Puck overheard Zap saying something to the effect of having "important matters to take care of." But Euripides refused to remain. He followed like a faithful puppy dog as Zap walked out of the house. He had heard Zap say that they would make a brief stop at the Zombie Coffee house.
Puck then slipped out of the house as unobtrusively as possible, and, taking a chance, went into the first public phone booth he could find. He called the chief again and gave his updated report.
When he hung up, he returned to the house to resume his vigil.
Meanwhile, Zap and Euripides went into Zombie's and Zap let his pal buy him a coffee and danish. While they were there, Zap tried to slip out the front door without Euripides spotting him, but it didn't work. Having been ditched before, Rip was now keeping both eyes wide open. When he saw Zap heading in that direction he quietly got up and followed swiftly after him.
Zap was pissed. He couldn't afford to take Euripides along with him. It was too dangerous. Besides, he talked too much. And telling him it was secret would only cause him to spill it that much faster.
The two hippies strolled over to crowded Market Street. Euripides never got tired of looking at all the things in the store windows, a habit that Zap was about to take advantage of.
While Rip was excited over the puppies in the window of the pet shop, Zap silently stole away into the passing throng. He turned his head every now and then to see if Euripides was following him. He wasn't.
But Zap didn't notice that somebody else was. A straight looking cat in a light topcoat, who had been following him ever since he left Zombie's with Euripides. And when Zap reached Powell Street and hopped on the cable car, the man shadowing him hopped on the other end of the same car as it prepared to leave for it's waterfront destination.
Normally, Zap was very conscious of whether anyone might be trailing him, but now his mind was on other things. Relieved to have shaken Euripides, he thought only about the large haul of marijuana he would be picking up shortly. He had taken a chance and confided to Mephisto that he would be supplying a good-sized shipment, and Mephisto had suggested that they stage a big pussy, pecker and pot party. Zap was all for the idea since it would enable him to unload his shipment completely in one night. The profit would be in his pocket that much quicker, which would make it easier for him to leave town sooner than expected.
As the cable car proceeded up one hill and down another, more and more people got on. Zap was sitting on the long seat at the side and was squeezed in between two young girls of about sixteen or seventeen. As the weight shifted with the car going up or down, Zap was thrust against the girls, or they were pushed tightly up against him. The soft, young, innocent female flesh rubbing up his body was having a profoundly sensual effect on him.
Despite their youth, the gals were well stacked. The one on his left especially. She had a healthy set of tits that easily required a D-cup. As the car jostled the passengers, her big tits rubbed Zap's arm teasingly. He could feel his dick begin to get hard. It was of little use to try to keep his hands folded over his lap to hide the growing bulge. The excited cock lengthened out solidly inside his pants and shoved against the material throbbing with desire. When the car shook, the girl was thrown off balance and she grabbed Zap's knee to catch herself from falling. The warm touch of her little hand transmitted itself through his pants onto his skin and caused his cock to grow an inch longer in excitation.
Zap was no longer thinking about marijuana or profits or about leaving San Francisco. His eyes were fixed on those jiggling jugs next to him and his feeling was concentrated in his swollen groin. He was certain in his mind that the young bird was making a play for him. And the girl on the other side seemed attentive also.
For their parts, both girls were unaware of the erotic effect they were having on Zap. It just happened to be their first ride on a cable car and both were afraid they might be shaken off during the bumpy, hilly trip.
Looking down at his lap, Zap was embarrassed by the obvious hard on bulging out. Surreptitiously, he tried to push the stiffened prick downward between his legs so that it would not be so noticeable. Just then the car started around a sharp curve and he had to grab onto the pole on one side of him. The chick with the big knockers almost fell out of her seat and in so doing, she reached out quickly and blindly to grasp almost anything handy. She just happened to get hold of Zap's upper thigh and her fingers tightened firmly over the ridge of hard flesh caused by his long hard on.
The sensation of it almost caused Zap to shoot his wad right there in his pants. He was about ready to come when she realized where her hand was and removed it like fingers from a hot stove.
The girl turned a bright scarlet with embarrassment. Now she was all too aware of Zap's horny condition. She looked at him flustered and spoke hurriedly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . " and then her voice trailed off in an obvious reluctance to say anything further.
"That's all right," said Zap, seizing the opening wedge she had provided. "Accidents will happen. Besides, you didn't hurt anything."
The young girl was unsure what to do or say next. It wasn't right to talk to strange men. Especially, strange men who were obviously sexually aroused. How could she have been so stupid as to grab hold of his erect penis? The last two words struck her as funny. Erect penis. She'd heard a lot of boys talk about it at school and they never called it an erect penis. They always referred to it as a hard on or a bone on or worse. It seemed that the high school boys she dated got hard ons quite frequently at least when they were out with her.
The poor man, she thought, was probably more embarrassed than she was. He did seem nice in a mysterious sort of way. With the beard and long hair and those wild clothes, he was definitely a hippie. Maybe she should try and be polite. After all, who ever heard of a hippie molesting a young girl?
At that moment the girl on the other side of Zap got off the cable car, but he made no effort to slide down the seat to provide more room for the chick he was squeezed against. It was just as well, since another passenger shortly filled the empty space.
"I've never been on a cable car before and I'm scared to death," gurgled the big-titted high school junior.
"New in town?" asked an interested Zap.
"In a way. I've been here before, but never on the cable cars. I'm visiting my aunt. She had a PTA meeting tonight so I'm on my own. I'm from L.A. Do you live here?"
"Yep," answered Zap. "Over in Haight-Ash-bury."
"I don't mean to insult you," ventured the chick shyly, "but are you a hippie?" Zap chuckled gleefully.
"Sure, I'm a hippie," he smiled. "And it's no insult. They're all pretty nice people. You ought to come over and get acquainted with them sometime. I think you'd like it."
"Oh, I've wanted to. So badly. But my aunt would just die if she knew I was even sitting next to a hippie. She thinks they're all . . . well. . . she doesn't think they're very nice."
"I dig the scene," said Zap understandingly. "She thinks that hippies are dirty, that they take drugs and have sex orgies. Right?"
The girl smiled. "Yes. Those are almost her exact words, as a matter-of-fact. Except the part about sex orgies. She wouldn't dare use the word sex in front of me. It's too dirty, according to her way of thinking. But she did say something about wild parties."
"There. You see," said Zap. "The older generation. They're all the same. They got this hang-up that sex is evil and filthy. But we know better, don't we?"
He watched her carefully, hoping for an affirmative answer. She nodded her head in agreement, he noted with satisfaction.
He checked his watch and saw that he still had some time before meeting his contact. The cable car was now descending the final hill before stopping at the turntable near the famed waterfront.
"Where you going now?" asked Zap.
"Oh, I don't know. Ride back to town on the return trip, I guess. I can't stay out too late. My aunt would murder me."
"I've got an urgent appointment myself," said
Zap. "But I've got about a half hour to spare before that. Why not take a walk up Fisherman's Wharf with me for a while, then I'll see that you get back on the car safely? Okay?"
She hesitated momentarily. He was a stranger. It was very dark out. She had been taught not to take up with strangers. But then, he did seem so nice. And what was the sense in being away from home if she didn't expect to find a little excitement, even if it was only a walk on the waterfront with a hippie?
"I guess it'll be all right," said the teen with the tasty-looking tits. "But no more than a half hour. If my aunt ever got suspicious, she'd tell my mother and then I'd never hear the end of it."
And so, when Zap and the nubile youngster got off the cable car together at the end of the line, the detective trailing him was puzzled. He followed as the two of them strolled casually up the dimly lit street toward the nearly blacked-out pier.
The cop wondered. Was the girl Zap's contact? It didn't seem likely. From what he had seen on the car it had appeared to be more of a pick-up. And not a drug pick-up at that. Maybe she was really an old friend he had run into. Or maybe Zap wasn't on a marijuana mission at all. Maybe the long-haired son of a bitch was just out to get himself a little pussy. The detective felt a stirring in his own crotch just thinking about it. From a short distance he watched avidly through the curtain of night as Zap and the girl stopped in a shadow and embraced. It reminded him of his days on the police force when he used to patrol the lover's lane areas. He always got a kick out of sneaking up on the couples and catching them in the act. A few times he arrived before they had even gotten started good. In those cases, he waited silently until they had some of their clothes off and were going at it hot and heavy.
Those were the days. The offenders were usually teenagers or slightly older men and girls. He had enjoyed making them step out of the automobile while still undressed and stand in the glare of the headlights while he questioned them. He had gotten to inspect a lot of sweet young cunts and ripe, juicy tits that way. The boys were a laugh. When he sneaked up on them, the guys were so worked up they had a hard on a yard long, but once that flashlight was shined in the interior of the car, those throbbing dongs just wilted from fear.
Now, he was wondering just what Zap and this cunt were up to. He edged as close as he dared in the darkness. Fortunately, a ray of light from the street lamp illuminated their actions for him very clearly.
As for Zap and the girl, they were being swept away in the tide of passion and were unaware that anyone was close by.
The cop couldn't take it any longer. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his own growing cock. It got longer and thicker as he manipulated it with his fingers. His eyes were glued to the young girl who was now withdrawing Zap's huge prick from his open fly. She rubbed her tiny hand tenderly up and down the length of the thick, sleek organ. But the cop's eyes grew even wider as Zap lifted the girl's skirt up over her hips and pushed her panties down.
The panting detective strained to get a good view of her bushy-haired young cunt. He could see Zap moving his fingers between the shaking girl's legs, getting her all excited. Now Zap was beginning to shove his cock into her twat with short, quick jabs.
Somebody passed nearby, startling the detective. He looked all around but saw nothing. Apparently Zap and the gal he was busy fucking, hadn't heard the noise, or else just didn't give a damn.
Feeling the need for release, the cop spat on his hand and proceeded to jerk himself off vigorously. His moistened palm worked furiously up and down his stiff, outstretched cock. Within a minute or two he began to spurt gobs of white jism repeatedly into the darkness, until he had drained his balls.
He wiped himself clean with his handkerchief and then adjusted his clothes. Zap wasn't yet finished screwing the broad. He had her blouse open and was sucking on her tits while his ass kept pumping a full cargo of stiff prick up her hot little pussy. As he approached the climax, he jerked convulsively, shooting into her every last drop of come his hot nuts could dredge up.
In short order, the copulating couple had straightened their respective garments and were headed back to the cable car stop. The long arm of the law, or long cock of the law as this cop liked to think of himself, followed them. He witnessed Zap help the twat onto a car seat, bidding her farewell. As the cable car clanged off into the night up the hill, Zap turned and walked back again towards the darkened pier, trailed dutifully by the narc.
The cop could've been next to Zap and he probably wouldn't have noticed a thing. He was one contented hippie. All he could think about was that warm sweet pussy that she had practically thrown at him. And those big boobs! The biggest pair of tits he had ever seen or sucked. Maybe some of his old magic with the girls was returning. He hadn't even had to work up a sweat for that tasty little piece of teenage ass. He was willing to wager that none of her high school boyfriends had thrown her that good a fuck before. He had slipped her nine inches of hot cock that she'd remember for a long time.
Then Zap's mind returned to his real mission to this part of the bay city. The bundle of grass he'd be picking up and selling. His old confidence was growing inside him again. Why, he asked himself, had he been wasting his time on such shitty-ass scores in the past? All that was over. From now on it would be strictly first class. Big scores meant big profits and soon he'd have all the cunts he wanted eating out of his hand. Or his fly.
Yep, he mused, he had been a goddam fool risking jail by peddling two or three joints here and there. He remembered his first contact back in Dallas telling him, "If you're gonna push, PUSH. Hold back and you'll be a ass all your life." But he had been too afraid to really let go. Opportunity was knocking though, and he felt he'd better take advantage of it. New York was the big time in spades and he might never get such an opportunity again.
Feeling jaunty and revitalized, he strode onto the pier and approached the contact who was waiting in the customary spot. He didn't even pause to take his usual precautionary peeks around in search of suspicious figures loitering in the shadows.
The detective, however, was more cautious. He hung back, trying to keep an eye on Zap without pressing too close. He didn't know just what Zap was up to, but he figured he hadn't traveled all the way out to the waterfront pier just to take a piss.
Zap walked directly to the contact man and sat near him. He spoke in tones slightly above a whisper.
"Have you got the shit?"
"You stupid cock-sucker," muttered the contact, striving to keep his voice low. "Don't you care if you're followed or not?"
Zap glanced around, puzzled.
"Whattaya mean? I came alone. I don't spot a soul."
"Maybe you don't, but I did. When you started out on the pier here. There's some character lounging around over there by that sea wall. It could be a cop."
Zap was still brimming with overconfidence.
"You're nuts. How would a cop know I'm here? I didn't see any suspicious characters get off the cable car with me and they sure as hell couldn't be waiting out here for me. Unless a cop followed you out here."
The contact bristled with indignation.
"Listen mother-fucker, no cops trailed me! I don't take chances. I don't trust nobody and I look around wherever I go. You just walked out here and up to me like we was only meeting to go to a movie together or something. If that's a cop on your ass then he knows now that you did come here to make contact. That puts me up shit creek. I sweat my ass off to make sure I don't get tailed and I'll be goddamed if a punk bastard like you is gonna get my ass in a sling just because you haven't got sense enough to use that peanut brain you got!"
Zap was riled.
"You got no reason to give me all that shit. I haven't brought the fuzz down on you yet, have I ? Now I'm tired of futzing around while you wet your pants. I've got the bread on me, so just give me the score and I'll blow. Okay?"
"You must be out of your fucking mind," spat the contact. "You don't think I'm gonna lug a bundle of shit like that around, do you? It's in the car. But it's no deal. Not now, anyway. You got what smells like a tail to me and I'm not about to take any chances. Just sit still another ten minutes or so and we'll see whether he leaves, or what."
Again Zap glanced around, impatiently.
"Christ! You're just nervous. I don't see a damn thing but shadows. I need that grass man. I got buyers expecting it tomorrow night. If I don't come up with the shit they might get it someplace else. I don't exactly have a corner on the market, you know."
"You goddam punks are always impatient," sneered the contact sarcastically. "Take some advice from an old pro. A few extra minutes of being careful might save you a few years in jail. Keep that in mind. It'll save you a lot of grief."
"Oh my aching ass," moaned Zap mockingly. "I come here to make my first real score and what do I get? Nothing but a goddam lecture. I think your trouble is you're just losing your balls."
"I still got my balls, but you're gonna lose yours if you don't wise up. Now look over there to your left, slightly behind me. Don't turn all the way. Just do it casually. That's it. See that guy looking this way?"
"Yeah," said Zap. "I see him now. Where the fuck did he come from?"
"He was right behind you when you came out on the pier, flower boy. Maybe he's not a cop. Maybe he's just grabbing some night air. More than likely he's a queer looking for a little action, could be he wants to feel that beard of your rubbing between his thighs."
"Yeah," said Zap. "And maybe he's looking for a kick in the teeth if he tries it."
"Naughty, naughty," scolded the contact playfully. "I thought you flower children were supposed to be non-violent ? "
Zap was only irritated.
"Why not cut out all this shit and take me to your car. I wanta get the grass and get the hell outta here."
"Hold your water, punk! You don't want to get out of here any more than I do. This may be a big score to you, but that kind of money isn't enough to make me take dumb chances. That character's hanging around too long and seems too interested in us. You just stay put while I leave. Watch to see if he follows me. I'll be on the lookout, too. We'll make the score another time."
Zap was desperate.
"Christ man, I gotta have that stuff tomorrow. I was counting on it. Give me a break, will ya?"
"Tell you what," said the contact. "Meet me tomorrow morning at ten sharp in the men's room at the bus station on Fourth Street. If anyone else is in there at the time just ignore me and wait. When it's empty, I'll put the stash in a pay toilet and then let you in so you can pay me. Then I'll leave first while you remain as if you're in there taking a shit. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah," said Zap excitedly. "That's great. I'll be there."
"And remember," spoke the contact scornfully. "Come alone!"
He then got up and walked off the long pier in a nonchalant manner. Zap kept his eyes on the shadowy figure they were suspicious of, but he didn't follow the contact.
Ten minutes later Zap began to leave, but turned now and then as if just casually looking into the Pacific over the short sea wall. He was instantly aware that the shadow was indeed on his tail.
It couldn't be a cop, he reasoned. Surely he'd have noticed earlier. Maybe that goddam contact was right. Maybe it was some fag on the prowl.
The man followed Zap until he reached the cable car stop and got on. He did not get on the car with Zap. Instead, he sat on a bench nearby.
Zap returned to the pad in Hashbury, forgetting his follower, and thinking only of that fitted teen he was still fucking in his mind.
CHAPTER NINE
Puck turned down Haight Street and could hear the music with it's heavy rocking beat and twanging guitars from a half block away. He knew that the party must be in progress and he wanted to be in on the proceedings.
He'd just returned from a secret telephone meeting with his superiors at the police department. His chief had informed him of their progress from their end. He told Puck how the agent had trailed Zap the night before to the waterfront where Zap had met and spoken to a non-hippie type man who was already on their records as a possible narcotics suspect. As per his instructions, the agent remained with Zap, even when the other man departed. And when it became apparent that no transaction was to take place, the agent dropped further surveillance of Zap.
The department was in an uproar. Puck informed them that he didn't know how, but Zap most assuredly had gotten a large supply of marijuana someplace because the party was to come off as previously planned. In fact, Mephisto had dunned him as well as the other hippies in their group for the money to pay for the joints that were promised to be delivered that evening.
Now, following his chief's orders, Puck was returning to the pad and to the party which obviously had gotten started during his absence. He smiled inwardly, remembering how Mephisto had described the proposed party to him. It was designated as a pecker, pussy and pot affair. It was promised that those attending, which included dozens of neighboring hippies, would get a little or a lot of the three prime ingredients, depending on their individual preferences.
For his part, Puck knew that a showdown might come and that his little masquerade would be over, so he was counting heavily on collecting some of that free pussy that was to be passed around. He wanted most of all to get between Golden Betty's long legs, but that wasn't likely since Mephisto would be present and presumably keeping that choice tidbit all to himself.
When he entered the house, he was met near the front door by Mephisto himself.
"Hey man, you're just in time. Everybody's just getting warmed up. Grab yourself a drink," said Mephisto, indicating a table laden with bottles of cheap wine.
"Christ! What a crowd," returned Puck, surveying the numerous hippies sprawled about the living room.
"This ain't nothing yet," said Mephisto. "There'll be a lot more coming and going all night. Right now I'm keeping a tab on all the stragglers coming in who haven't coughed up any bread for the refreshments."
Puck poured himself a small glass of Muscatel. It was necessary that he appear to be participating in the spirit of things. He even asked Mephisto to slip him a joint so that he might get high quickly.
"Fuck, man. That bastard Zap hasn't even shown up yet. He was supposed to be here an hour ago with the shit, but he must've got hung up someplace. Don't worry though, we'll pass 'em out when he comes in. I'm dying for a smoke myself."
"Jesus," muttered Puck, looking for a spot he might settle down. "There's not a goddam hole big enough to plant my ass."
"Do me a favor, man," asked Mephisto. "Go up to my room and keep Golden Betty company for awhile. She's all alone. I put her in a yoga position to help her meditate, but I don't think there's anything on her mind but cock. Shoot the shit with her till I get back up there in a half hour or so. Okay?"
. "Will do, man," voiced Puck with ill-concealed eagerness.
He stepped gingerly around and over the bodies strewn on the floor, returning greetings from the happy hippies who were consuming the wine like water.
When he opened the bedroom door, Betty was lying on the bed fully dressed with her eyes closed. He called out softly to see if she was awake.
Betty slowly opened her eyes and greeted Puck with a warm smile.
"Hi. I was just resting my eyes. Come on in."
"Greetings. I was just talking to your boy friend. He's busy putting the arm on the dead-beats trying to crash the clambake. How come you aren't downstairs with the rest of the kids?"
"Didn't you know? I'm a hippie. And hippies are supposed to be anti-social," she teased.
"Guess I asked for that all right," said Puck amiably. "Anyway, your lover boy dispatched me up here to keep you company. Any objections, or would you rather just be alone?"
"Why should I mind?" asked Betty calmly.
"Oh, I don't know," said Puck. "But after that little walk in the park when I gave you such a hard time, I thought you just might prefer that I mind my own business."
Betty sat up on the side of the bed and motioned to Puck to take the chair nearby. He did so.
"Forget that," she offered. "Maybe I was a little upset that day, but the more I think about it, the more I feel it was really necessary. I mean, it's good to have someone question you and contradict you now and then. Otherwise you get to the point where you really feel that the only reason nobody says anything about what you do is because nobody cares."
Puck reached over and patted her knee tenderly.
"Well, I care and don't you forget it. Besides, you have Mephisto. He cares, doesn't he?"
Before she answered, Betty hesitated a bit. Puck could swear he noticed a hint of a tear welling in her eye.
"Sometimes I wonder," she finally answered, wistfully. "He's good to me. He takes me places and treats me as if he cares. But it's not enough. He seems to think I have no brains. He doesn't give me any credit for having a mind of my own. Actually he can be like two people completely. One minute he can be loving and gentle, but later he can be aloof and distant. Almost a total stranger." sad
Puck got up and joined Betty on the bed as she began to sob a little.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you," consoled Puck with an arm around her shoulder. "Remember that Mephisto is just mixed-up about life the way the rest of us are. That's why we become hippies in the first place. We really don't know where we belong in this world." He hoped his bit of pseudo-philosophy might ease her anguish for the moment.
"Maybe I am mixed-up," said Betty, facing him. "I thought all hippies believed in love. To me, love is everything. But I can't just slice it up and enjoy it at certain times. I love Mephisto and whether we're in bed or walking down the street or just sitting in the park, I feel that need of him to be near me or thinking of me. But he seems capable of ignoring me at times when I want to share things with him the most."
Puck glanced at the full-chested rise of her bra-less tits that wobbled slightly with her breathing and wondered to himself how Mephisto or any guy could ever be cold to this girl. The thin material of her dress clearly outlined the jutting nipples. The sight of the pointed nipples made Puck's mouth water. His baser instincts were urging him to rip away the cloth and take the tits in his mouth and suck to his heart's content. Though the wine had eased his inhibitions, he still retained his self-control.
"Your trouble, Betty, is your refusal to face the facts. Love among the hippies isn't like love among the straights. Maybe the thing you feel for Mephisto is love, but in his case, I'm afraid it's only sex. You're confusing the two."
Betty exhaled a deep sigh.
"You're right, of course. I do know it's only sex with Mephisto. I just don't like to think of our relationship that way. He does care for me in his fashion. I'm simply too emotional to be that realistic about things. I color them to suit myself."
As Betty spoke the last, she let her head fall and rest up against Puck's ready shoulder. He still had his arm about her and used it to bring her even closer to him.
Her female fragrance was intoxicating him. Daringly, for a moment, he pondered the idea of fucking her right there on Mephisto's bed in Mephisto's room. In her present mood she just might be receptive to his amorous advances. Testing her reaction, he leaned over and kissed her lips, shoving his hot tongue into her mouth. Betty didn't return the kiss, but she didn't resist either. She sat motionless, letting him have his way.
Puck hesitated slightly before continuing. He preferred full, or at least partial, cooperation from his females. Hoping to draw some affirmative response from her, he began kneading her breasts and he placed one of her tiny hands in his lap on top of his rising prick.
Golden Betty still appeared to be unenthusiastic, but at least she was beginning to go through the motions. Her fingers squeezed the hard bulge in his pants and then pulled his zipper down and went inside to seize the hot flesh.
Puck had both his hands under her dress and was actively engaged in feeling up her ass and tits. There was nothing under the dress to impede his search. His large palms engulfed the soft globes of her pliant ass and rubbed them over and over again.
"You've got the sweetest ass in the world," he whispered hoarsely in her ear.
Betty was beginning to breathe heavily as her passion rose.
With some difficulty, due to the tightness of his pants, Betty managed to yank his long cock out into the air, which excited Puck even more, causing the throbbing organ to grow longer.
He tried desperately to remove her dress, but a catch in the back was impeding his progress. At other times the situation could've been laughable. But not now. It was only frustrating Puck in his attempt to promote a piece of ass from Betty. She was clearly regaining her former control and losing her built-up desire.
In an effort to keep her sexually aroused, Puck shoved a stiff finger up her cunt to stimulate her clitoris. Unfortunately, the frantic tugging at her dress had caused too much annoyance. She pushed him away, begging him to stop what he was doing.
Puck had no choice. He certainly didn't want to fight her or try to rape her. His stiff cock was crying out for relief, but Betty was no longer in the mood.
Being thus rebuffed in his attempt to seduce her, Puck's long dick wilted quickly to its limp state. As he reluctantly stuffed the length of soft meat back into his tight pants, Betty sat up and straightened her dress.
Puck moved over to the chair again and waited for Betty to say something.
"I'm sorry, Puck. I'm just not very good at this sort of thing. Please don't be mad at me."
Her tone and her remark almost floored Puck. He had expected that she would be mad at him for trying to grab a fast piece. He decided to apologize anyway, since it was plainly his fault that they had gotten so intimately involved.
"My fault, kid. Guess I just got carried away seeing you there so vulnerable and all. I'm a louse for trying to take advantage of the situation. It's you who should forgive me."
Betty immediately felt better with Puck taking the responsibility for their reckless behavior. She brightened into a weak smile and assured him that she wasn't offended.
Both Betty and Puck were stricken with a sharp pang of guilt however, when the door opened and Mephisto entered the room. It was all they could do to suppress their nervousness at nearly having been discovered playing with each other.
"Goddam," muttered a pissed-off Mephisto unaware of the horrified stares the surprised pair gave him. "I don't know how the hell all those warm bodies got in the house. I know I haven't collected bread from that many cats. Somebody must've been at the back door smuggling them in." He threw up his hands in disgust and flopped on the bed next to Betty. "Hell, what you gonna do? I just hope Zap brings enough grass to spread around."
Neither Puck nor Betty spoke a word.
Mephisto now focused on each of them and asked, "You two been having a nice chat?"
Puck could swear that he detected more than a hint of suspicion in Mephisto's voice. Maybe, he thought to himself, Mephisto really wanted him to latch onto some of that snatch. He couldn't help but wonder in his mind just what would have happened if Betty hadn't chickened out and Mephisto had walked in while he was throwing her an extra ration of meat?
Of course, all that could only be conjecture now, since Betty had stopped him before matters reached the critical stage. He had wanted a little of that nifty nookie, but not at the expense of fouling up his assignment at this important stage of the game. Still he couldn't help wondering why Mephisto seemed to pick him to keep Golden Betty company. Maybe he was hoping that he would catch Puck trying to make out with Betty. On the other hand, maybe he just trusted Puck more than his other pals.
That last thought curdled in Puck's mind. One of the problems with being an undercover agent was the nagging feeling of the fact that he actually was a two-faced hypocrite, no matter how noble allegedly, his purpose.
Betty and Puck both made some innocuous remark about how they were just waiting for the party to get rolling in high gear.
"That reminds me," said Mephisto. "Do me another favor, will you, Puck? Go downstairs and keep an eye out for Zap when he gets in. I want to see him first. He'll probably come on up here anyway, but I want to see him before he passes out any shit. We got too many freeloaders down there who'll have their goddam hands out. I wanta supervise that business personally."
Puck was only too glad to agree. He wanted out of that tension filled room where it was difficult to talk easily to a guy who's bird he had just tried to hustle into the sack.
As the door closed behind Puck, Mephisto lay down on the bed and reached out for Betty's hand. He took it and placed it over his groin.
"Does that feel good, babe?"
"It always does," she said, her body remembering the desire that Puck had shortly before kindled in her loins.
"I'm tired, kid. Really. I don't think I could find the strength to lift myself up. You know what I mean?" He gazed at her expectantly as he spoke.
"Yes, I know," she answered, fingering the rigid growth inside his crotch. "You feel sexy . . . but the energy's not there. So what can I do?"
"You're a good kid, Betty. How about giving me a fast blow job? My nuts are gonna explode if I don't drop a load soon."
Betty winced.
"Oh, Mephisto. You know how I feel about that. Besides, I'm not very good at it."
"You're learning," he offered as he unzipped his fly. He extracted the thick hard on from the interior of his pants. It rose upward, toweringly.
"Please," begged Betty. "Can't I just give you a hand job? You know I hate to swallow all that stuff."
Her nose wrinkled as she said it.
The smile left Mephisto's face. "You're my girl, aren't you."
"Yes."
"You want to stay my girl, don't you."
"Of course!"
His eyes directed her gaze down to his exposed prick, throbbing with the expectation of her moist, warm lips around it. "Suck it!"
"Do I have to?" Betty made one last effort.
"Suck it, goddamit! Suck it!"
"All right," said Betty meekly. "But it's so big. I won't be able to do much."
When she said that, she stretched her mouth wide open to receive the large, smooth head of his cock.
Mephisto could feel his metal zipper rubbing against the side of the taut flesh, so he unbuckled his pants completely and pushed them down to his knees in order for Betty to have total freedom between his heavily-muscled thighs. Then he lay back and stared up at the ceiling while Betty used her wet, hot mouth and tongue all over his exposed crotch.
Her mouth was jammed full of the hard prick, but Mephisto kept pushing his pelvis upward, trying to cram another inch or so into her face. The poor girl almost choked on the heated hugeness.
Realizing it was impossible to stuff the whole ten inches down her throat, she unglued her lips from the top of the organ and let her fiery tongue lick the entire length of the stiff column of desire. Despite the enormity of the task, Betty was growing more enthused.
This was her Mephisto. The man she loved. This was his cock, his balls, his ass that she was mouth-fucking. She knew how much he enjoyed getting sucked off and she wanted to really please him.
Her lubricating lips and darting tongue worked furiously and more assuredly on his genitals. She shoved her hands under his muscular ass and massaged the cheeks. One long finger-nailed digit was rammed up his hairy asshole which drove him wild. He bucked and tossed from sheer agonizing ecstasy. After licking them thoroughly, she cupped his massive, hairy balls with her hand and tenderly squeezed and played with them.
"C'mon, baby. Get back on the knob," shouted Mephisto. "I'm just about ready to come. Suck it good! Suck just as hard as you can! Suck it like you're trying to swallow my whole goddam body!"
He was no longer relaxed and passive. His partially naked body arched upward, pumping his pelvic region.
Betty was moving her lips rapidly up and down the tremendous cock, feeling indeed as if the entire hard on had been forced into her mouth. The gentle friction caused by her wet lips and moving tongue on his sensitive prepuce was bringing Mephisto to an earth-shattering climax.
His nuts literally exploded as he began shooting spurt after spurt of hot jism down Betty's gullet. It was all so rapid that she swallowed it completely before she knew what was happening. And, wanting to make sure she pleased him all the way, she finished the job by running her tongue once more over, around, and up and down the entire cock to collect any drop that might've gone astray.
She raised her head to observe his reaction. He flopped contentedly back and exhaled a sigh of immense satisfaction. Betty saw that the rigid-ness jutting from the thick bush of curls at his groin was fast receding again into limpness.
He looked at her and smiled. That was all the thanks she wanted or needed. Just to know that he was happy and that she hadn't failed him. He even reached over and patted her hand, but he made no other move. His body was spent for the moment.
Putting his gratification into words, Mephisto said, "Baby, when you suck a cock, you suck a cock! I swear that's about the best blow job I've had in years."
Though grateful for the compliment, Betty felt a distaste over the words themselves. She loved Mephisto and she couldn't think of any good reason not to go down on his body which she worshipped, but . . . putting the act into vulgar words made it seem somehow dirty.
He joked with her about it, then she lay beside him while he took a short, much needed, nap.
More than an hour later, Puck returned to the bedroom with Zap. Both Betty and Mephisto were now awake and Zap lost no time in producing the package of marijuana he had secured for the pot party.
He almost hadn't gotten it at all. The night before the contact had refused to give it to him because of the man in the shadows. Then, that morning, they'd had another hectic time in the men's room where they had set up the meet.
Unwittingly, they had apparently picked one of the busiest periods of the day to do business there. No sooner would one guy piss and leave than two more would come in the John. Though the numerous pissers and shifters who shuttled in and out hardly noticed them, Zap and his contact felt decidedly uneasy loitering around what one visiting sailor described irritatingly as, "a filthy, goddam shithouse!"
The contact had gotten so disgusted he was about to take off without making the deal when a lull finally came in the traffic, much to Zap's relief. At that point, they didn't even bother to go through the toilet stall routine, but instead, simply exchanged their parcels quickly and went their separate ways.
Zap now counted the money that Mephisto had collected and Betty and Puck watched. It added up to quite a handsome score.
Puck, of course, was the most interested observer. He watched as Zap pocketed the cash and then he joined Mephisto in carefully examining the packet of marijuana.
"This is good shit man. Acapulco gold," said Zap proudly.
"You sure know your business, Zap," Puck stated, deliberately injecting an envious note into his tone.
Zap felt so good about the way things were breaking for him that he decided to confide his plans partially to his friends.
"Keep this under your hats, you guys, but ole Zap is gonna go big time from now on." He radiated confidence as he awaited the expected query.
"What you talking about man?" Mephisto asked.
"Just what I said man. Tomorrow, Zap is gonna fly to New York and begin traveling first class. I stand a good chance of working for the syndicate. You know what that means? Bread man. Mucho, mucho bread. No more panhandling from cheapskates for this boy."
"You gotta be kidding!" insisted Mephisto. "The syndicate? Christ! You'd really have your ass in a sling then."
That wasn't the reaction Zap wanted or expected from his buddy.
"Listen man, don't give me that shit. This is my big chance. In New York I'll be my own boss after awhile and I'll be piling up the bread so high there won't be a bank big enough to hold it. This hippie routine may be okay for you guys, but it ain't getting me anywhere."
Zap was pissed-off that his little bombshell hadn't been greeted with envious enthusiasm.
Puck decided to keep his silence for the time being. He was more than interested in Zap's sudden announcement, but he thought it best to let Zap and Mephisto hash it out between themselves.
"I don't know what's got into you, Zap," stated Mephisto. "But you sure are thinking wrong. Pushing a few joints to hippies is one thing, but at least you're pretty safe. You know none of us is gonna turn you in. If you get messed up with the syndicate though, your ass has had it. You'll never be your own boss. They'll own you body and soul. At least with the fuzz you'll only go to jail at the most. But if you rub those mob boys wrong, you'll get a one-way ticket to the graveyard."
"You sure turned out to be some pal," said Zap downheartedly. "Here I think I'm doing you a favor, sharing the good news with you, and all you give me is a bunch of bullshit in return. Don't you think I looked into all the angles before I decided? If I hang around Frisco I can still go to jail just for one punk score. What do I get out of it? I'm still living like a ass. Well, I'm fed up with that scene, man. And the syndicate doesn't worry me. They take care of their own."
"They take care of their own, all right," added Mephisto facetiously. "They'll cut your nuts out and laugh while you bleed to death."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Zap said sullenly.
Mephisto slapped Zap on the shoulder good-naturedly and said to him, "Look, Zap. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to give you such a hard time. I shouldn't of shot my mouth off. If that's what you wanta do, it's your own goddam business. Right?"
He looked straight at Puck when he asked the last.
"Right!" echoed Puck, dutifully.
"We'll miss you, boy," said Mephisto, shaking Zap's hand. "Looks like we'll be out of luck for grass from now on. Anyway, we'll unofficially make this a farewell party for you."
Zap brightened considerably at this new attitude. This was more like what he had expected from his buddies.
"You guys don't hafta worry about scores," said Zap. "There'll always be somebody around with grass. Maybe I can spot a replacement for you before I take off manana."
"What say we get down to where the action is," announced Mephisto, and they all joined him in leaving the bedroom.
Everybody gathered around closely in the living room as Zap took out the cigarette rolling machine and papers and began to add the marijuana in order to roll the joints. As fast as Zap got them rolled, Mephisto passed them out to the eager recipients who had paid for them previously.
Before very long the whole house was filled with the sweetish odor of the thick marijuana smoke wafting from room to room.
Puck smoked his joints along with the others. He had been ordered to proceed as a guest at the party by his superiors, with strict instructions not to make any arrests on his own.
The party was swinging into high gear as the assorted hippies got stoned either on the wine or , the plentiful pot. Music was blaring loud and raucous from the record machine while the guy operating the phonograph made a psychedelic effect by passing different colored cellophane papers in front of a high intensity light bulb aimed at the ceiling.
Everyone was actively blowing his mind and freaking out. Some were trying to dance in the midst of the crowd, doing the frug and the swim and the boogaloo. Others sat around the floor clapping hands, laughing and singing. Since they had closed all the windows to keep in some of the noise plus the incriminating smell of the marijuana, it was getting stumer all the time. Many boys and girls took off most of their clothes because of the closeness. The few that wore underwear simply stripped down to either their shorts, in case of the boys, or their panties, for the girls. Most of the boys wore only a pair of levis or denims. Some of the girls were being stripped naked by their male friends who seemed to enjoy openly flaunting their girl friend's charms.
Puck was having a ball with Zora, who had latched herself onto him again. Though Euripides was in another corner of the room with a cute little blonde who was fondling his prick openly, Puck could seen no sign of Zap. Nor was Mephisto or Golden Betty in view. He assumed, however, that they had returned to Mephisto's bedroom to turn on and fuck gloriously.
Zora was one of the girls who was completely nude and Puck was very much aware of her presence. In between puffs on a joint, she had skill fully removed every bit of his clothing except his ultra-tight pants. Her fingers were in constant exploration of his bulging crotch. She had him worked up to a point where he was afraid he was going to cream his jeans. When he told her that, she immediately unzipped his fly and yanked his ready cock out and began sucking it furiously, kneeling in front of him and face fucking him skillfully. Because of his already excited state, Puck quickly filled her mouth with his hot, white, sticky cream. She swallowed it with gusto, even licking his limp cock of every spare drop afterward.
After that, Zora unhooked Puck's pants at the waist and pulled them all the way off. Then he was as totally naked as she. Zora caressed his strong thighs and tickled his balls until his prick had gotten hard again. She straddled his lap ,as if she were going to sit down, but she eased herself onto him, sliding her wet and slippery pussy over his stiff, upright cock, sinking down until he was in her all the way. She started to move up and down on him, the contracting walls of her cunt making it hug his thick, burning prick with each rhythmic move.
For his part, Puck was in seventh heaven. He had smoked more pot than he had been advised to try by the police doctor and now he had lost all sense of duty and reason. Whatever who was doing to whom else didn't bother Puck at that moment. All his feeling and his thoughts were concentrated between his legs. As Zora slid up and down his erect pole, he helped her by holding her elbows and pumping a little himself. When he came, shooting up into her snatch, he fully expected to see the wad of come blast through the top of her skull, it was so intense and copious.
Around the room, other couples were similarly engaged. The mood of the party had changed completely. There was no longer noise and frantic activity. Restrained jazz emanated from the record player, which was loaded with a stack of LPs on the automatic changer. Other than the music, only heavy breathing could be heard as the cou. pies turned their attention from pot to pussy.
Despite the large number of people crowded into the house, everyone had found some place to relax and blow his mind. A stranger walking in the front door would think he had stumbled upon a nudist camp. Each person who hadn't taken off his clothes voluntarily was having them taken off by someone else who wanted him naked. No one was in the mood to resist any sort of sensual caress or erotic advance made by another. It was truly a party where each did his own thing without restriction of any kind and no one paid any attention to the scenes of fucking, fellatio and cunnilingus, as well as the finger-fucking and jacking off going on openly.
The psychedelic lighting was no longer in effect, but the room was bathed in an amber glow from several small lamps. Flying high on wine and pot in an amiable setting, the hippies had tossed what few inhibitions they had to the four winds.
Sexual activity of every variety was predominant. One stag hippie who hadn't as yet found himself a partner lay in a trance-like state, dreaming his dreams and brandishing a tremendous hard on that signified the nature of those dreams. He was fingering his prick, running his foreskin gently up and down his stiff cock.
In the corner, two bearded boys were wrapped around each other's naked body in a sixty-nine position. Their respective heads were bobbing relentlessly between the other's parted thighs. Noisy, wet, slurping sounds attested to the intensity of their sucking of each other's cock and no one paid the queers the slightest attention.
One naked boy was flat on the floor on his stomach. At first glance he appeared to be passed out. However, a girl, with hair to her hips, was between his parted legs and was busy kneading his heavily muscled body with her small hands. She labored lovingly over the rounded cheeks of his ass, the whiteness of which contrasted sharply with the remainder of his darkly tanned skin. After leaning over and planting wet kisses on each of the protuberant globes of flesh, she moved to the shadowy crack between, filled with black, curly hairs, and began inserting her tongue in and out of his anal opening. As the darting of her licking tongue became deeper in his asshole and more intense, he jerked spasmodically with ecstatic sensations. This kept up while his ass pumped against the rug with frenzied motion.
When she was finished tonguing the crack of his ass, the guy turned over on his back. His cock was semi-hard and was going down. There was a large wet, white spot on the rug where he had shot his load. The girl kneeled over and quickly licked it up.
One lucky couple had managed somehow to get the sofa to themselves and they were putting it to good advantage by stretching out and fucking in the standard manner. They too, were nude. The girl had beautiful, blonde hair and exquisitely creamy white skin. Her breasts were fully rounded, coming to a jutting point at the pinkish nipples. Her olive-skinned, Italian boy friend was alternating on each of those succulent tits. He'd stuff one into his mouth and then he'd go over and suck greedily at the other.
Their respective pelvises were locked together, but now and then he would lift his ass into the air, drawing his long cock out just to the head and then he would plunge it in again, all the way.
A girl hippie came over and stood by the sofa watching them as they fucked. She got closer and reached out to rub the Italian's hairy legs. When, he remained more or less motionless for any period of time, she would shove a finger up his ass or put her hand between his thighs and cup his pendulous balls. While she was in the process of doing that, another guy, with at least a foot of stiff meat preceding him, came up behind her and stuck his cock up between the cheeks of her ass which he parted with his hands. The opening was too tight, so he rubbed a glob of spit on his cock and another glob on her asshole. This lubrication proved effective as he shoved the huge prong slowly but surely up her bunghole.
Over beside the staircase, a beardless youth with hair to his shoulders was jerking himself off while avidly watching two girls grinding together on the floor in passionate embrace. The larger girl kissed her way down the other's naked body until she was between her thighs. Her tongue slurped hungrily over the thick pubic bush and darted through the curls into the open, wet pussy. She buried her head deeply against the girl's bush and shoved her hot tongue as far into the receptive twat as she could reach. The girl being eaten was twisting and turning, her face contorted with ecstasy. The boy playing with himself moved closer so that when he came, giant spurts of white come spattered over the naked girls.
Near the front of the room, Zora was trying to coax another hard on out of Puck. He'd already come six times in succession, and though that wasn't his limit, he wasn't responding with much enthusiasm this go-round. She continuously fondled his crotch with little result. His prick wouldn't rise.
Zora wasn't the type to give up. She knew that in another fifteen or twenty minutes he'd have to come around, so she left Puck alone to rest awhile and she eased herself against another willing and able stud who was temporarily alone. He was a Negro hippie whose naked skin was ebony black.
The black buck welcomed Zora with open legs. Jutting out from his lap like a flag pole was his huge, rock-hard prick. He was sitting in a straight back chair from the dining room. Seeing there were no sides to the chair to hinder her position, Zora straddled his lap, facing him. As she did so, she took hold of his throbbing black tool and placed it between the lips of her wet cunt, which proceeded to swallow it whole.
Her hungry pussy gobbled up every one of the considerable number of stiff inches he had to offer. He put both of his large dark palms over her spongy tits and massaged them. She threw her arms around his neck and began to French kiss him frantically. His tongue collided recklessly with her tongue as they swapped spit between each other's open mouth. Zora began to run her hands lovingly all over his chest and arms and back. The soft light on his shiny, ebony skin clearly outlined his muscular definition.
She bounced joyfully on his organ until she could feel the jet stream of his hot jism flooding her insides. Zora, herself, experienced a rapid succession of multiple orgasms.
Her twat released its hold on the black treasure and she was ready to move back over to where Puck was sitting when she noticed that the Negro had almost immediately raised another gigantic hard on.
"Wow!" said Zora. "Doesn't this thing ever get soft?" she asked incredulously.
"Not often, girlie, not often," stated the Negro with obvious pride in his tremendous virility.
Zora giggled.
"You're kidding me," she managed to get out. , "No guy can keep it up all the time. Not with me around, anyway."
She hadn't meant to be insulting, but the Negro took offense at her impugning his sexual prowess.
"Just try me, white girl. Try me." He spoke dryly. "You're not bad for a white girl, you know."
Zora sensed that she had hurt his feelings. Men were so vain about their sexual capabilities, she knew. She wanted to make it up to him, but words would not be sufficient she knew, only actions.
She stood in front of his chair as he ran his hands up and down her legs and over her ass. He moved to touch, to feel every bit of her naked skin. She allowed him to explore thoroughly, even when he thrust a rude finger up her ass.
Then, dropping to her knees, she pushed his ebony thighs wide apart, stroking them as she did so. With her right hand she cupped the big balls that hung loosely between his legs. She put her left hand on his giant prick and held the base of it as she moved her moistened lips onto the huge black knob at the top. A deep reddish color mingled with the black of his genitals.
With the expertness borne of much experience, Zora sucked up and down and all around the burning-hot pecker. It was far too big to get completely in her mouth, but her searching and scorching tongue traveled over every inch of it. For awhile she released the organ from her mouth and licked his balls and the crack of his ultra-black ass.
Returning her lips to his slippery-solid cock, she resumed sucking him off. He shoved his hips forward every now and then to thrust as much of r the stiff prick into her throat as she could take. A shuttering spasm overcame him as he reached climax, jetting a river of thick, sticky come into her mouth and down her throat.
When she was through swallowing, he lifted her up and again began French-kissing her. In short order, she noticed that he was again hard. Zora stayed with him and thought no more about Puck or anyone else. She felt she had at last met her match in this endless hard on a maiden's dream.
In his chair, Puck had dozed off, unaware of what had happened to Zora. Fatigue had finally overpowered him, plus the extra strong dose of drugs and sex.
Upstairs in the bedroom, Mephisto was just rolling off Golden Betty for the fifth time. He, too, didn't feel like he had a good fuck left in him. Golden Betty's hot little ass had thoroughly drained his balls of every last drop. In no time at all the two of them drifted off into a deep and satisfying slumber.
While they were sleeping, two boys who were still rather energetic, creeped into the room and used a bottle of iodine to paint dirty words on Betty's stomach and Mephisto's bare ass. The tired pair never woke up while they were being smudged with the red liquid. Before they left the bedroom, the boys looked around and took all the marijuana cigarettes and butts they could find. Then they sneaked away as quietly as they had come.
Going back downstairs, the boys surveyed the entire place in further search of marijuana. Nobody objected, since the bodies strewn around were either engaged in some sex play which required all their concentration, or they had passed out. With a great deal of patience, the boys looked all over until they had picked up and pocketed every cigarette and butt from the various rooms in the house. Since it was so quiet and they were still in a lively mood, they decided to go someplace else for their own pot party. They slipped out the back door and down the alley.
Ruttish couples eventually progressed from active copulation to a state of immobile embrace. Even the insatiable Zora was now inert in her lover's strong, black arms.
A strange stillness pervaded the entire household. Small clouds of sweet smelling marijuana smoke still lingered in the air.
No one inside seemed to hear the many footsteps outside or the front door and the back door as they opened simultaneously.
CHAPTER TEN
The squad of detectives and uniformed police-men surged into the house with guns drawn. Some of them tripped over the out-stretched bodies piled all over the floor. Dumbfounded by what they saw, the fuzz stopped in their tracks and looked around.
Next to the sprawled form of Puck, the lead detective ordered his men to start rounding up the inhabitants and to search for evidence. None of the raiders recognized Puck, since he had been recruited from another department for that particular undercover assignment. As a result, he was pushed around and hustled back into his hippie clothes along with the others. Puck was too drowsy and cloudy-minded from drugs to be able to identify himself to the cops.
Mephisto and Betty were rousted sleepily out of the sack. The leering cops took great care to pinch or squeeze the naked girls on the ass or tits to rouse them, but the boys they only gave a kick with their foot. More than one of the invading fuzz let his roaming hands linger longer than necessary on the ripe, bouncy and unresisting behinds that the girls displayed. In their doped state, the hippies were slow in climbing back into their duds. Many of the aroused cops had to push down on the rising bulge in their pants.
When everyone had gotten on at least part of their clothing, they were led out the door into the waiting patrol wagons. Just fifteen minutes later they were being led from the patrol wagons into the city jail across the street from a square with a monument to Robert Louis Stevenson. The girls were led to the women's section and the boys to the men's section. Because there were so many of them, they were put into the drunk tank until they could be properly booked.
The captain of the narco division was there and he gave orders for Puck to be removed from the cell to the hospital for treatment. Because of Puck's blase and uncaring attitude, the captain was afraid he might've taken some LSD. After a brief examination, the doctor assured the captain that there was nothing wrong with Puck that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure.
Over in the female section, Golden Betty, along with the other girls, was placed in a huge cell with prostitutes, junkies, petty larcenists and other dregs of feminine society.
As her total consciousness gradually returned, Golden Betty grew more fearful. She had never been in jail before, and it was a frightening experience. Especially the way some of the older women looked at her with possessive eyes. Though she knew about lesbians, she had never had an overt relationship with one.
Now, as the stalking females paraded about the cell, looking over the young girls carefully, Golden Betty felt supremely alone and scared. When one of the women sidled up to her and talked to her in a low voice, Golden Betty wasn't sure whether she was trying to be friendly or whether she really had ulterior motives and wanted her to suck her snatch.
"Hi kid. My name's Dot. What's yours?" asked the whore.
"Betty," she answered timidly.
"This your first time in stir?" asked the tough gal tenderly.
"Yes, it is." Betty choked back a sob. "Don't let it throw you. This is the fifty-third time I been nailed by the goddam cops. You get used to it."
"Fifty-three times?" asked Betty with genuine awe.
"That's right. I'm a hooker. I peddle my ass," the whore stated with an air of false bravado. "Some cops take a payoff, some don't. Them's the breaks in this business. You're pretty young. What the hell did they grab you for?"
"I'm not too sure," said Golden Betty softly: "They said something about possession of drugs and disorderly conduct and I don't know what all else."
"Jesus Christ! Sounds like they're throwing the book at you, kid. These all your friends?" The whore glanced around at the other young girls who had been arrested with Betty.
"Sort of, I guess. We were at the same party anyway."
"You're all hippies, aren't ya?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. From the clothes, I mean. Really wild. I oughta be mad at you."
"Why?" asked Betty sadly.
"Hell, kid," laughed the whore. "The way you hippie girls are putting out to the guys, you're ruining my business. A lot of my steady customers told me that they pick up hippie girls whenever they get the chance. Why pay for it when you can get it for free, they say. I know you hippies believe in free love and all, but I wish you wouldn't be so goddamed free with it. The only way I have of making a living is selling my ass.
And nobody wants to buy when there's free samples all over town."
"I'm sorry, really I am," said Betty with warm sympathy. "I know things must be hard for you.'"
The hustler was touched by Golden Betty's seeming innocence and genuineness. She loosed a deep, throaty chuckle.
"Hell, kid. Don't sound so morbid. I was only joking. Things aren't really that bad yet. I just like to bitch a lot. Especially when I'm sittin' in the can with nothing else to do to kill time. Tell you what, when you get outta here, if you ever need some help getting started in my business, just look me up. I'll give you the lowdown. With your body you could make a fortune."
Inwardly, Golden Betty cringed at the mere thought of her ever having to become a whore. Fucking with a man you liked was one thing, but going to bed with strangers was not something she wanted to look forward to. Still, she didn't want to insult the prostitute the only woman who had so far shown any friendliness to her. Even the other hippie girls had remained mostly quiet, but then, they were still recuperating from their drug trips.
"Thank you very much, Dot. If I do look you up, where would you be?"
"You know where Lower Market is? Well, just ask any cabbie for the Daisy Hotel. Now don't look it up in the phone book or ask anybody else where it is, because there is no such hotel. It's a codeword. He'll know where to take you."
"Sounds pretty mysterious and all," said Betty.
"You can't be too careful in this racket, kid. The fuckin' cops are always on your ass looking for a shakedown or a bust. You just can't win with those mother-fuckers. I hate fuzz. All of 'em. Ever since I was fourteen they been giving me a hard time. They're all pricks, believe me." Dot spat out the words with suppressed fury.
"Can't you find some other work?" asked Golden Betty naively.
"Are you kiddin'? What the hell could I do in an office? And I can't see myself standing up in a store all day waiting on a bunch of rich bitches. The only thing I was ever trained to do was to pump my ass. My step-father got me started. The son of a bitch raped me when I was thirteen. Funny thing is, I liked it. From then on I was putting out all over town till I found out I could get paid for it. I found out early that men are just like animals, but at least some of them are will-, ing to pay for it. It took me a while, but I learned just about every trick in the book. That's important in my work. These guys come up with some weird requests. The only thing I refuse to do is let some bastard beat me while he gets his rocks off. It's not worth the money. Otherwise, my customers know I'll take a whack at anything else."
"You're not ashamed of what you do?" asked Betty, amazed at Dot's seeming braggadocio.
The smile disappeared from Dot's countenance.
"Why should I be ashamed? It's what I do and I do it good. At least I don't have to go around giving it away. Just because you never sold it doesn't make you any better than me. We both fuck, kid. The only difference is, I'm smart enough to make the guy pay for the privilege."
The words shot from her mouth with thinly disguised hostility.
Betty was upset at having caused the whore to erupt in an angry manner. She hadn't meant to be insulting, but her words had exactly that effect.
"I always seem to be saying I'm sorry," Betty uttered. "I don't know what made me say such a stupid thing. Naturally I respect you as a person. I know I haven't got room to talk about any-one else's behavior. But really, Dot, you're the first prostitute I've ever met, and I admit I don't know much about it."
The two females exchanged a few more sentences, and eventually, Dotty's ruffled feathers were smoothed again. While they were in the midst of discussion, another woman was put into the cell. She was taller than the rest and rather husky in build for a female. Her walk was like a man's, with wide, sure strides.
"Oh, oh!" cautioned Dot. "Here comes trouble with a capital T."
"Do you know her?" asked Betty.
"No and I don't want to. But I'm not the one that has to worry, kid. You do. You and your girl friends here. Her kind likes fresh young meat like you."
"Do you think she's a . . . lesbian?" Betty asked in a whisper, for fear the woman would hear her.
"Christ kid!" said Dot. "This tank is crowded with lesbians. Or haven't you noticed how they've been eating the flesh off your bones with their beady little eyes. Most of 'em won't bother you though if you don't give 'em a tumble. But that amazon is dangerous. She's a bull dyke. If she gets her eyes on you, she'd just as soon grab you and rip your clothes off. The same as some guy trying to rape you."
"Why aren't you worried, Dot?"
"Like I said kid, she wants young stuff. Not a beat up old whore like me. Incidentally, I can say that, but nobody else can," she laughed.
"You don't look so old to me," Betty flattered. "In fact, I think you're very pretty." It wasn't a complete lie. Dot was a well-preserved looking doll, though a trifle brassy.
"Thanks. It may not be true kid, but that kinda talk can keep me going for a long time. In my trade you can't ask for compliments when you're getting cash on the line. Just remember what I said about keeping your eyes open. That dame'll wanta eat you for sure."
"Maybe if you stay near me," suggested Betty hopefully, "she'll think we're together and won't bother us."
"I can see you don't know much about bull dykes. Even if we was lovers, if she wanted you she'd try to beat my time. Just like one guy tries to beat another guy out. This broad plays rough. She'd just as soon cut my throat. Anyway, I'll be outta here in another hour or so. I'm just waiting for a friend to come in and pay my fine. He'll be here soon. By seven or eight tonight I'll be back at my old stand or flat on my back gettin' fucked."
Now Betty felt distinctly uneasy again. Talking to Dotty had somewhat alleviated her fear about jail and had taken her mind off her worries. Dot's confidence had helped bolster her. But now Dot was leaving and a new worry had entered the cell in the person of the rough looking lez.
"I know it's selfish of me to say this," said Betty, "but I do wish you weren't leaving so soon. I feel safe with you here."
"I'll give you a word of advice kid. Keep out of that broad's way. Maybe she'll get the hots for one of these other babes. If she does get ideas though, don't fight her. She'll kill you. Just lay back and make the most of it."
As she spoke, Dot looked around at all the females in the over-crowded cell. Most of the women hardly rated a second glance. And even among the young girls it was easy to see that Betty was by far the prettiest. The bull dyke would certainly be the first to notice that fact. Dot knew in her mind that the young hippie was in for a hard night of it.
Almost another five hours passed before Dot's benefactor showed with her fine. As happy as Betty felt for her, seeing someone go free, she still wished secretly that the whore could have remained longer.
The time went by unbearably slowly. Though many of her hippie friends had emerged finally from their comatose state, Betty preferred to remain uncommunicative, by herself. Around her sounded the chatter of female voices in many low-key conversations. So worried was she about what might happen to her in court that Golden Betty simply lay down with her eyes closed, but unable to sleep.
After a supper which she barely touched, Betty and the rest of the girls were returned to the cell where they continued to gossip and chatter among themselves. Weariness and lack of proper rest had taken its toll and Betty was blessed with a deep slumber despite the cell lights and the murmuring voices.
Sometime much later, during the night, Betty woke up. She sat straight up on her bunk, wondering where she was. One small ceiling light from the hallway illuminated the cell. She was able to make out the outlines and the shadows of the other bunks. Her heart sank as she realized that she was still in jail. She had just been dreaming of happier days back home in Philadelphia with her friends at school. The sudden, stark reality of her present situation made those carefree days seem so long ago and far too far away.
Golden Betty jumped as she heard a footfall near her bunk. The shadow loomed tall and menacing as it came closer to where she lay. When the figure got close enough, the light revealed the amazon's stoic face, stoking the embers of fear within Betty.
The big girl sat on the edge of Betty's bunk, putting her fingers to her lips to shush her. Betty had wanted to scream, but her voice had failed her.
"Don't make any noise, girlie. I just wanta talk to you."
The bull dyke spoke with a deep, resonant whisper.
"What about?" asked Betty fearfully.
"No need to be scared, honey. I'm your friend. I'm not gonna hurt you. You're a pretty little thing. I noticed you the minute I walked in here today."
"Thank you," said Golden Betty, wishing at the moment she weren't so pretty.
"I saw you talking to that whore. She's nothing but trash. A nice kid like you shouldn't have anything to do with her kind. What the hell have they got you locked up for?"
"For marijuana possession," replied. Betty meekly. She was curious, but didn't dare ask the dyke what she had been arrested for.
"Busted for pot, eh? The lousy cops won't even let you smoke a cigarette in peace, will they? They got me for petty larceny. This is my third bust on the same charge. I been shoplifting so many years I just can't shake the habit. I hate being locked up, but it wouldn't be so bad if I had a cellmate like you to share with me."
Betty shifted to the farther side of the narrow bunk as the amazon edged closer to her. Her withdrawal and fear were evident to the lez.
"Whatsamatter? Don'tcha like to have a little fun? I'm not that hard to take, am I?"
Her tone was less cordial than before.
"It's not that," said Betty quickly. "It's just . . . well I've never been in jail before, and I'm scared. I don't know what you want of me."
Her voice faltered as she struggled to hold her tears in check.
The bull dyke realized she was working on virgin territory. She approached Betty with a more conciliatory tone to her voice. Speaking softly, she reached over and patted Golden Betty's arm.
"Easy doll. I know you're scared. Jail does that to you. The best way to get over that fear is to take your mind off of it. What better way is there to take your mind off worrying than to try a little loving? Ain't that right?"
"I don't know," offered Betty warily. "Maybe you'd better get back to your bunk before the guard hears us and gets us in more trouble."
"You wouldn't be trying to get rid of me, would you?" asked the bull dyke, who then boldly began to rub her hands over Betty's tits.
"Please!" pleaded Betty. "I don't want to get into more trouble!"
"Relax, pussycat. You're not gonna get in trouble. I know what I'm doing. Let me get this dress off of you."
With that, she began pulling Betty's garment off completely.
Betty was both startled and frightened by the strength in the dyke's arms. She seemed to be as strong as Mephisto. Then, Betty remembered Dot's advice not to try and fight with the dyke. It was useless to resist while being manhandled with such force.
"I hope you'll understand that I'm not being insulting," said Betty, in a last ditch attempt.
"But I'd really rather not have anything to do with you. I'm not that kind of girl. I've never . . . made love with a girl before."
The amazon wasn't to be dissuaded from her purpose. Especially not now, as she gazed at Betty's nude body in the soft light. It was even better than she had hoped for. A straight chick with a knockout body. She'd show this little girl a few things that a man couldn't. How could she know anything about fucking if a girl hadn't shown her what it was all about.
"You just cooperate with me, baby, and I'll send you to paradise. I know you hippies. You've been fucked by a man, I know. You ain't no virgin."
"No, I'm not a virgin," said Golden Betty. "I just happen to prefer men to sleep with, that's all. Is that so hard to understand?"
When she said it, Betty let her voice become a bit waspish. She sensed the inevitable and was indignant that she should be so treated while sitting inside a jail where she thought sure she should be secure from this type of encounter.
"If you've never had a girl love you up, like you say, how can you tell if men are better?" zinged the dyke in return.
Betty was stumped for a good answer, but said, "It's just a feeling, that's all I know. It isn't natural for girls to make love to each other."
"Bullshit! When I get through with you, you'll be sorry you never got a broad to take you on before. You may even wanta go down on me." Betty winced at the thought of it. She'd never be able to put her face up against another girl's cunt, she just knew it.
The dyke had had enough discussion. She wanted action and with Golden Betty lying there in her birthday suit so temptingly, the dyke decided to quit wasting precious time.
Her big hands roamed shamelessly over Betty's legs and arms. Keeping her touch at all times gentle, she soon had Betty's body involuntarily responding to her passionate caresses.
Taking Dotty's advice, Betty simply lay back and let the strong dyke have her way. It wasn't as bad as she had expected. Despite the woman's grossness of features and obvious strength, she was demonstrating a remarkable degree of tenderness in her digital ministrations on Betty's cunt.
Betty did turn her face aside as the dyke tried to kiss her on the mouth. Undeterred, the woman kissed her chin and cheeks and neck. Then she moved her greedy mouth down to Betty's pliant breasts. She sucked the large, bouncy tits with relish. Her teeth nipped at the hardened nipples and then her tongue made concentric circles around the gelatinous mounds.
Maybe it was a woman doing that to her, thought Betty, but she found herself enjoying it immensely. It felt as good as when Mephisto had his liquid lips wrapped around her tits, sucking away. There was one distinct difference. With Mephisto, she had the desire to reach out and feel his prick, to love his body in return. Though the dyke was giving her pure pleasure, Golden Betty felt no desire to reciprocate in any way. In fact, she didn't even want her hands to touch the dyke's body.
Lost in a frenzy of lust, the dyke was receiving her quota of satisfaction at having the good fortune to go down on such an exquisite young female body of infinite perfection. She made the most of her golden opportunity and sucked her cunt ravenously.
While her lips explored one region of Betty's glorious nudity, her hands searched endlessly for new areas of conquest. The teasing strokes of her gentle, feather-light fingers, plus the warm, moist caresses of her mouth brought Betty to almost unbearable heights of ecstatic joy. She writhed uncontrollably under the manipulations of the lady lover.
After massaging the cheeks of Betty's ass and licking her inside thighs, the dyke slobbered kisses over the curly cunt hairs before ultimately sliding her lengthy tongue up into the wet, steaming-hot pussy. The dyke truly had a longer and more muscular tongue than any boy Golden Betty had ever had suck her off. It filled the slit between her legs with ease. The moist, darting snake of flesh moved far up into the cavern of desire that surged with unfulfilled longing. As the dyke's tongue rubbed wetly against the tight walls of Golden Betty's flaming pussy, the juices of lust began to flow freely. With the sliver of flesh tickling her clitoris and teasing her vulva lips, Betty enjoyed an unprecedented series of uninterrupted orgasms.
It was all she could do to stifle the cry of ecstasy that almost escaped her lips as the dyke continued to bring her body sensation after thrilling sensation. Her hot cunt was tingling with each new, exciting insertion of the magic tongue.
When the dyke was through, she sat and watched Golden Betty as she strove to regain her composure. She continued to feel and tenderly caress the total nudity that lay before her in all its marvelous splendor. Golden Betty simply lay with her eyes closed.
Finally, the dyke gave her a playful pat on the ass and went back to her own bunk, satisfied to have achieved her own wishes in seducing such a spectacular piece of sweet, young pussy. Betty fell into a contented and unworried slumber.
The following morning all the girls were told that they would go to court that day for their arraignment. After a lousy breakfast of unsweetened mocha and stillborn eggs, the girls were loaded into buses and taken to the courthouse nearby. There they were made to wait in a room adjacent to the courtroom itself.
A stern matron explained to them what the situation would be when they entered the courtroom and how they should conduct themselves. A legal advisor explained their rights and how they could plead and what the possible consequences were under the law.
Golden Betty remembered Mephisto had advised her strongly to stick with him and plead not guilty while they were being run in the day before. He was wiser than she, she figured, so she decided to take his advice.
After what seemed like hours, they were ushered into the already crowded courtroom. Mephisto was there with the rest of the gang, so Betty felt easier.
The official procedure took place and when the judge got to the case against the hippies, he looked obviously displeased with their appearance in loud clothes, long hair, and wearing all the beads and bells and such. He gave them a group lecture on the subject of their personal appearances that had absolutely nothing to do with the charges against them. Some of the boy hippies, especially Mephisto, had a strong urge to ask his honor what the hell business it was of his how they dressed. Fortunately, all restrained the impulse.
Then they got down to cases. The police charges were read aloud, but then it degenerated into a confused legal circus. It seemed that the police had had second thoughts and wanted to change the official charges against the hippies. They admitted that cigarettes which they had confiscated from the hippies' clothes had turned out to be ordinary tobacco.
The judge was pissed off at the police and wanted to hear what they had learned from their undercover man. Puck. When his name was mentioned, every one of the hippies who had seen Puck at the party, or who knew him, such as Mephisto and Golden Betty, looked at each other.
Good ole Puck, their buddy, the loner, was the rat who finked on them to the fuzz. Some of the guys were anxious for Puck to put in an appearance so they could tear his balls out by the roots. But alas, the undercover agent was not present.
With much embarrassment, the narco chief did his best to explain to the judge about the arrest and investigation. He told how his agent named Puck had informed them that a pot party was to be held. In an effort to catch the pusher with the goods, the police elected to hold off the raid until the party had gotten underway, so that they could nail as many offenders as possible. But Puck, instead of giving them the prearranged signal when the time would be appropriate, had apparently fallen too far under the influence of drugs himself.
The red-faced captain admitted that Puck was at that very moment under a doctor's care to shake the effects of too much marijuana inhalation.
Someone, according to the police testimony, had gotten wise to the planned raid and had cleaned out every trace of marijuana from the premises. Only standard cigarettes had been found on the hippies.
Growing more impatient with the bungled case the police were striving to present, the judge wanted to know which of the culprits arrested was the alleged pusher.
In a low voice, the captain explained that the suspect's name was Zap, no last name, who apparently had eluded capture, but was believed headed for New York.
His Honor refused to allow the police to change the basic charges to disorderly conduct, but rather, admonished them for fifteen minutes on the ineptness of their handling of the entire affair. He also blasted the absent Puck's ability to handle himself in a responsible manner while on assignment.
When the judge finally turned to the assembled hippies, who were getting great joy from seeing the fuzz jumped upon, his visage was equally as stern and scolding.
"You boys and girls are a disgrace," he spoke firmly. "Not only to yourselves, but to your parents. I noticed some of you smiling while this little charade was going on about the police testimony. In reality, you have little to smile about. You're lost, confused children who are trodding the path to self-destruction. Unfortunately, for legal reasons, I must dismiss the charges lodged against you. But that doesn't mean for one minute that I don't believe what the police have testified. I believe every word of it. It's only because of the lack of evidence, plus the improper behavior of the undercover agent that I am throwing this case I out. Please take note of my stern warning though. If you again indulge in the crimes of which you have now been accused, ultimately you will be caught and brought to justice. You're all young enough and, I hope, intelligent enough to realize the gravity of the present situation so that you will make a determined effort to straighten yourselves out before it is too late." He paused briefly, looking around at the sober faces to see if his words were having any effect. He hoped that he had managed to influence at least one of the young minds for good. Then he finished up with, "Case dismissed!"
The gang of hippies contained their enthusiasm until they had gotten outside the courthouse before erupting into a cacophony of joyous shouts.
As they walked back to the Hashbury district, they wondered why the police hadn't found any marijuana in the house, since they had been smoking such quantities of it. No one knew the answer, but all were glad things had turned out that way.
When they returned to the house, Mephisto informed Golden Betty he was fed up with San Francisco and was leaving town. She became alarmed. Naturally, she thought he meant to leave her behind. But he assured her that she could come along.
If . . . only if, she didn't mind hitchhiking three thousand miles!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sun shone bright and warm over Indio. Most of the pedestrians sought the shade in an effort to escape some of the sweltering heat.
On the eastern side of town, standing at the edge of the broad highway, stood two peculiarly clad people. Outside of their regular hippie environment, Mephisto and Golden Betty were a sight to behold in their psychedelic raiment.
Since the rental on the house wasn't yet exhausted, Mephisto turned the place over to his hippie compatriots for their own. They held a small wine party to see the couple off.
That had only been two days before. Mephisto wanted to look over the situation in Los Angeles before taking the big step eastward, so they hitched a ride to the smoggy city and walked around Sunset Strip for awhile. When they told the local hippies about their Frisco experiences, the hips warned them that the scene in L.A. was crawling with undercover fuzz. That was all Mephisto needed to hear. He decided New York had to be a better deal.
A salesman had given them a lift as far as Indio, and now they were seeking another ride. Golden Betty stood right beside Mephisto as he held his thumb out.
Many drivers who would ordinarily give a lift to a hitchhiker passed the couple by because of their weird clothes. They just didn't want dirty smelling hippies in their cars, they said to themselves or their passengers.
Finally, a well-dressed woman in her forties stopped her car and asked them to get in. They sat in the back seat, but she told them to move up front with her. She was headed, she said, to a small town in Arizona. Mephisto offered to relieve her at the wheel, which she readily accepted, seating herself next to him with Golden Betty next to the door.
The conversation followed the usual course where they were going and explaining their garb and their manner of life.
In this case the woman didn't ask too many questions, but was content to ride along for great stretches without a word being spoken. Though there was ample room for the three of them on the seat, the matron pressed her leg close to Mephisto's as they drove along. The warmth emanating from her and the thought in his mind about why she was so close to him had a strong effect on his well-endowed crotch. Golden Betty was looking at scenery and unmindful of the obscene swelling in the front of his pants, but the woman stole peeks at the cylindrical bulge each time she got the chance.
Another car tried to pass them, and in so doing, almost caused a wreck by moving back into the lane when an oncoming car forced it to pull back in.
It called for some fast work at the wheel, but Mephisto was equal to the task. They all breathed a sigh of relief. The distention in Mephisto's pants returned to normal.
After some hours, the woman announced that they had neared her destination.
"I've a little house there that my late husband and I shared for many years," she said. "Please stop in for an hour or so. You can freshen up and get something to eat before you continue on your way."
That was all the invitation Mephisto and Golden Betty needed. Both were weary and very hungry. They could conserve the little cash they had left by accepting the offer of a meal.
Inside the sleepy little town itself, the woman directed Mephisto to her house, which was all alone near the edge of the tiny community. She ushered her guests into the neat, frame cottage and offered them a drink, which Mephisto accepted. Golden Betty preferred a large glass of water.
"Oh, what beautiful glassware!" exclaimed Golden Betty, admiring the lavish display of figurines in the China closet.
"It's my hobby, collecting them," said the matron. "There are more in the kitchen. Why don't you look them over and then scout around in the refrigerator for some food while I take your young man out to the garage to see my husband's old workroom? He was quite handy with tools. Only men like to look at such things, I've found."
She smiled knowingly at the ingenuous girl. Golden Betty was fascinated by the intricate designs on the delicate glasswork and said okay without even looking at the matron or Mephisto.
For his part, he wasn't too interested in looking at any goddam tool shed, but decided to go along out of politeness.
As she ushered him into the room adjacent to the carport, she remarked, "He loved this room. Often he slept out here for days."
Inside, Mephisto noticed that it was really a cozy efficiency room including a single bed. The workshop table was on the other side of the spacious den.
Mephisto flopped down on the bed and said, "Hey! This is the life. I wouldn't mind having a pad like this."
The woman sat next to him on the bed and placed her hand on his crotch, feeling the length of his long, limp cock.
"This is the real reason I brought you out here," she said dryly.
Mephisto wasn't surprised. He knew she had something like that in mind. Her playful hand was giving him another powerful hard on.
"What do you wanta do?" he asked. "Suck or fuck?"
"Please fuck me," she pleaded. "I haven't had a man in months, and I'm dying for it."
She began removing her own clothes hurriedly as Mephisto got up and peeled off his own duds.
Stark naked, they both fell back on the bed in a tight embrace. The love-starved widow gorged herself on Mephisto's muscled young flesh with her mouth and hands. He enjoyed reciprocating because her body was still youthful and firm. He sucked her tits with abandon as she stroked his asshole gently. She became aroused quickly and didn't require a lot of foreplay to get ready.
In minutes, his huge cock was sliding in and out of her sucking pussy. She pumped her ass upward until she had surrounded every stiff, throbbing inch of hot prick he had to offer. His large testicles bounced repeatedly against the crack of her ass as he drove his piss pump into her twat.
Less than ten minutes later Mephisto felt himself spouting an uncontrollable stream of jock juice up her fluid-filled cunt. Her own spate of orgasms was even greater than his.
They got dressed very fast and returned to the house, hoping that Golden Betty hadn't become suspicious. She hadn't. She was in the kitchen cooking a pot of ready-mix soup.
After eating, the matron drove them back to the highway and gave them a bag of sandwiches she had made herself. She also slipped a ten dollar bill into Mephisto's pocket, that he was only too happy to receive.
On her way home, the widow reflected on her alliance with the young hippie and wished he had been alone. She would've given him the workshop to live in. He certainly did know how to handle himself in bed.
A young high school boy was .thumbing into town in the direction she was headed. He looked like an athlete. She picked him up, wondering if she'd be as successful with him.
Golden Betty and Mephisto got a series of rides through the next two states with farmers, salesmen, college kids, a school teacher and one police car even gave them a lift without any shit.
In a midwest city they were picked up by a husky, young Marine who said he, too, was headed for New York City.
He agreed to take them all the way and Mephisto said he would relieve on the driving whenever needed.
One of his first questions was the most common one.
"Are you two hippies?"
The masculine voice was friendly.
"Yep," was Mephisto's terse answer.
"My name's Ted. I was thinking about going hippie myself, but my draft call came up, so I joined the Marines. I'm stationed at Pendleton. I'm on my way home for a furlough before being shipped out."
Mephisto introduced himself and Golden Betty, and they traded a few stories about their respective high school days. Golden Betty was especially interested, since she had never heard Mephisto talk much about his past previously. She discovered no startling information, however.
Mephisto asked Ted why he had decided on the Marines instead of the draft.
"I don't know, man. I was all mixed-up. A buddy of mine was in the Corps, so I figured, 'what the hell.' It's rough man. They cut all my fucking hair off. Oh, I'm sorry," he directed himself to Golden Betty for his lapse into profanity.
"No need to apologize," Mephisto cut in quickly. "Hippies aren't hypocrites. We talk the same way to everybody, men or women. The girls have heard all the words before. Isn't that right?" he asked Betty.
"Yes, Mephisto," she answered dutifully. "Please don't mind me," she smiled at Ted.
The Marine said, "I'm glad you two feel that way, because this is gonna be a long-ass trip and I know I can't hold it in that long. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," grinned Mephisto. "Like you say, it's a long fucking trip and we might as well say whatever the fuck we've got to say and not give a fuck who hears it."
Ted and Mephisto laughed. Golden Betty smiled. Inwardly she wished they wouldn't indulge in profanity in front of her, but she knew better than to voice any objections to Mephisto.
"Shit, man," said Ted. "We can have ourselves a goddam ball. Either of you cats know any good jokes?"
First Mephisto told a dirty joke, then Ted did. As the jokes went on and on they became filthier in content. Golden Betty joined them in the laughs, though her face was flaming scarlet.
They stopped at a roadside store and the Marine bought a cold six-pack of beer, which he and
Mephisto consumed as they rode along. Golden Betty had a Coke. The beer had loosened the Marine up considerably and the foulest four letter words colored his conversational vocabulary with insistent regularity. He and Mephisto practically ignored Golden Betty, who remained quiet.
"So there I was with only three fucking dollars in my fucking pocket," Ted was telling a story. "And this cunt says, 'No soap. It's five or nothing.' What could I do? I wanted a piece of that, but the price wasn't right. I told her to kiss my fucking ass, and I left her at the bar. Back at the table I got the waitress to sit down next to me and made her feel it. All it took was a little sweet talk and the three goddam bucks and she reaches under the table and gives me a fast hand job. Man, I was so goddamed drunk when I went back to the base, I didn't even notice the spots of dried come on my pants. I got my ass chewed out good for that."
Mephisto elbowed the Marine and showed him that Golden Betty was dozing off with her head against the car door window.
He pulled off to the side of the road.
The sudden stop jolted Golden Betty back into consciousness.
"Get in the back, kid. You can stretch out on the seat. You look like you're really beat," Ted said.
"Yeah, Golden Betty," added Mephisto. "Grab some shuteye. We got a long stretch ahead of us."
Not saying a word, the sleepy girl complied and crawled into the rear and stretched out full length on the car seat. She curled her body into a position that allowed maximum comfort. When the car was again rolling down the highway, the whir of the motor and the forward movement soon put her into a sound slumber.
Ted and Mephisto talked on and on. The Marine was tireless in retelling his own sexual escapades.
He glanced in the rear view mirror to see Golden Betty with her eyes closed. Then he asked Mephisto if he thought she was really asleep.
"She's out like a light," he answered. "The poor kid's tired. I never saw anybody who could sleep so sound."
"The reason I asked," said Ted, "is I thought you might wanta stop off someplace. You know. Some motel for the night, so you can get a little." He winked at Mephisto.
Mephisto then told him about his sexual romp with the widow who had picked them up earlier. The Marine got a charge out of that as Mephisto spared none of the vivid details.
"What about her?" asked Ted, motioning to Golden Betty. "Isn't she your steady girl?"
"That's good stuff. Classy. But the bitch is getting too possessive. I don't dig that scene. If she hangs on too tight, I'm gonna lose her ass when we get to New York. Next thing I know she'll be hinting about getting married and that bit I can do without. Like I say, she's a good kid and we had a lot of laughs together, but when you get right down to it she's only another piece of ass. Know what I mean?" Mephisto was confident the young Marine would share his typically masculine viewpoint.
"That's the right attitude," Ted agreed. "Love 'em and leave 'em. There's too much loose nookie around to get tied down to one cunt. You know, some of my buddies and me go out with the same broad sometimes and take turns putting the boots to her. You know, kinda like sharing the wealth. One guy throws her a good fuck while the others are resting up. You ever try anything like that?" He glanced at Mephisto expectantly.
"Christ, man!" exclaimed Mephisto. "I been in on every kind of gang bang there is. One night I was in a coffee house with this bird I'd picked up. Three jarheads come over and wanta move in. I'm trying to score, so I tell 'em to get lost. They stay. Then the bird herself suggests we make it a party. The four of us went to bed with her, all at once. Man, that was some night!"
The Marine licked his lips and paused before making his suggestion. From the way the hippie had been talking to him, he'd be on safe ground in making it.
"That gives me an idea, Mephisto. Why don't the three of us take a motel room someplace for a little action? My nuts are ready to explode."
Mephisto didn't blink an eye. He knew all along what the Marine had been leading up to. He wondered if the serviceman had any money he'd be willing to part with. Another ten dollar bill would feel mighty good in his pocket.
"You think maybe you'd like to get into Golden Betty's pants?" asked Mephisto, knowing goddam well the Marine was dying to get into them.
"Man, I really need it. I dig that chick. And as long as you two aren't, you know, a steady thing . . . why not? I mean . . . somebody's gonna get it. Why not me?"
He giggled self-consciously.
"She's got a talented twat all right," cracked Mephisto eyeing the hard on arching out the front of the Marine's khaki pants.
"I just got paid," said Ted. "We can get us a bottle and a room and have us a fucking ball. What do you say?"
"Sounds groovy. But you see man, we're short of bread. I mean, we can use every dollar we can lay our hands on. So why waste good bread on a crummy motel room? There's plenty of good spots around. And if you're willing to pay us the money instead, I'll let you have a ball with her all by yourself. How's that grab you?"
Ted was elated. It grabbed him just where he wanted to be grabbed. Right in the balls.
"Good deal. I'll pay you fifteen dollars. Okay?"
That was five better than Mephisto had counted on. They sealed the bargain by opening the last can of beer and taking turns at it.
Ted's face suddenly became cloudy.
"I just thought. What about her? Think she'll go for it? She does kinda look at you as if you were god."
"No sweat, man. I'll work that out. I got a couple of joints tucked away. Get her to smoke one with you and that'll get her ass working."
"No kidding! I never tried any grass myself. Is it really that good?" Ted was enthused.
Mephisto grandly reached into his buttoned shirt pocket and brought forth two brown cigarettes which he placed carefully in Ted's uniform shirt pocket.
"Good as gold man. That's Acapulco gold. Got 'em in L.A. before I left. That shit'll get you both high. You just let her smoke one about half way down and man, her ass'll begin grinding like a goddam cement mixer. This'll make your pecker grow another two inches."
Ted grinned happily. He was glad he'd picked up the two hippies. He'd known when he saw that girl by the side of the road that something good would come of it. He'd anticipated a little trouble from her boy friend, but hell, he was cooperating like a real pimp.
"Tell me?" asked Ted excitedly, "does she go down on it?"
"You name it man. She does it."
"Is she tight?"
"Tighter'n a nun's bun."
"How bout sixty-nine."
"Like a pro."
"Looks like she's got a nice set of tits under that dress."
"The biggest, juiciest pair of knockers you'll ever get your mouth on."
"And you say she eats cock?" The Marine couldn't stifle his growing arousal and curious anticipation. "I got a big one," said Ted. "I hope she can take it."
"I crammed ten inches down her gullet," boasted Mephisto.
"Is that right?" grinned the Marine. "Mine's ten, too. Christ buddy, I'm getting hotter'n hell talking about this. Why don't we find some place to park and get on with it?"
Mephisto was agreeable.
There was very little traffic on the stretch of highway they were now traveling. Eventually they came to a narrow dirt road that led off the highway into the woods.
"Let's try here." pointed Mephisto, and the Marine turned the wheel onto the bumpy road.
Golden Betty was awakened by the car jumping up and down with each new hump. She sat up in the seat.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"We're looking for a spot to rest and maybe grab a smoke," Mephisto said.
About then, the road smoothed out and led them directly to the side of a small lake. There was just room enough to park the car among the trees and shrubbery.
All three got out and stretched their tired legs.
"Why don't you two have yourselves a smoke?" suggested Mephisto. "I wanta do a little exploring in the woods."
Betty immediately wanted to join him, but he told her it would be safer to stay with Ted as snakes might be crawling around. Her great fear of snakes overcame her desire to accompany her lover into the dense thicket of woods.
Mephisto left, whistling to himself.
Ted produced the marijuana cigarettes which surprised Betty. She didn't expect that kind of smoking, but, she considered it would be relaxing.
They lighted up and sat down on a grassy knoll facing the water. Ted threw pebbles into the smooth surface of the lake, causing a series of growing concentric circles to form.
The air was fresh, the sun was warm, and the shady spot they sat in was comfortable. All was quiet except for the singing of the various birds.
Ted kept looking over at Golden Betty as her cigarette burned down. He didn't want to start too soon and louse things up. He could see her tenseness melt away as she relaxed and became more serene.
"How bout a swim?" suggested Ted.
"Great idea," agreed Betty. "The water looks divine."
"Bare ass?" asked Ted hopefully.
"Oh no," she pleaded. "I've got to wear some bottoms at least."
"Wear your panties. I'll wear my shorts," said Ted.
Betty blushed and confessed, "I don't have any panties, I'm afraid."
"That's very interesting," thought the Marine. "I'll get you a pair of my shorts," he offered. He took his suitcase out of the car and rummaged around in it until he came up with a pair of jockey shorts.
"Shouldn't we wait for Mephisto to come back?" asked Betty.
"Let's surprise him in the water. Okay?"
Feeling suddenly playful and cheery, Betty agreed. She sat in the car and removed her dress and sandals and pulled on Ted's briefs. The good elastic made them fit nicely around her small waist.
Ted himself stood behind the auto and took off his uniform. He stripped to his jockey shorts and then threw his clothes into the trunk of the car.
Mephisto, who had been hiding in the woods in order to give Ted an opportunity to make out with Betty, was now peering at them from behind a nearby clump of bushes. He wasn't really a voyeur, but he wanted to make certain he didn't return before the event took place. He was anxious to get his hands on that fifteen bucks Ted had promised.
The scene was interesting, so he continued to watch.
Golden Betty was still in the car, but he could see Ted very clearly. The husky Marine was certainly a magnificent specimen of virile manhood. His well constructed frame was loaded with firm, tightly-packed muscle. The shoulders were very broad atop the powerful chest. His body tapered to a narrow waist which again broadened at the muscular cheeks of his ass sitting atop two thick, strong, hairy legs. The snowy whiteness of his jockey snorts presented a sharp contrast to his darkly tanned skin.
Mephisto turned his eyes as he heard the car door open. Betty got out wearing nothing but a pair of men's jockey shorts. They hugged her waist, but the front pouch sagged with emptiness. Now standing next to her, Ted's pouch was decidedly not empty. In fact, the contents were sorely straining the thin cotton material.
Before going in the water, Ted and Golden
Betty finished off their still burning cigarettes. He was mesmerized by her topless attire. Mephisto hadn't been lying about those tits. They were indeed the biggest and juiciest he'd ever seen.
Deciding that his hard on was growing too conspicuous, Ted dashed into the lake, yelling for Golden Betty to join him.
Betty had noticed the rising bulge lifting out the front of the Marine's shorts. She knew what was on his mind. Prayerfully, she hoped Mephisto would return before the situation got out of hand.
She ran into the cool water and splashed around. Ted came over and started throwing water on her head. Then he dunked her. She squealed with delight, as she enjoyed playing in the water.
They swam around awhile and kept trying to push the other's head under the surface. It was all innocent child's play. But they weren't children and they weren't innocent. Ted was growing more aroused as his hands caressed Betty's almost naked body in the water. And Betty's body was involuntarily responding to the exquisite sensations caused by Ted's strong, masculine fingers.
Finally, he pulled her close to him and shot his long, wet tongue into her surprised and open mouth. His body pushed against her and she could feel his rigid cock rubbing her stomach. With the flash of desire, she returned his wet kiss as he massaged her tits in his two large palms.
A pang of guilt struck her and she broke away, heading for the shore.
Ted became alarmed and without hesitation followed her out of the water. The wet shorts clung tightly to his skin and his erect rod jutted out the front of the briefs obscenely. He ran over and asked Betty what was wrong.
"Mephisto might come back any minute. I can't do it," she cried.
"He won't come back. Not yet," assured Ted, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"It's not right," she insisted. "I'm his girl. He'd be hurt if he caught us like this."
"No, he won't," said Ted, irritated that the mood had been broken just as he was going damn good. "He told me he'd stay away until we got finished."
"What do you mean?" asked Betty indignantly.
"Well. You might as well know. Mephisto agreed to let me get a little from you if I paid him fifteen dollars. You kids need the cash, so . . . why not? I mean, what's one lousy little piece of ass?"
Betty was stunned. Her most dreaded suspicions and fears were confirmed. Mephisto really didn't love her. Would he sell her like a common whore if he did?
Being high on pot kept Betty from sinking into a deep depression. Instead, she became almost uncontrollably giddy after the effect of Ted's words had sunk in.
She looked at the handsome Marine. Hadn't she felt herself giving in to him anyway? He was everything a girl could ask for. He had good looks and a sexy body. From the looks of the huge pole that was about to burst through the front of his briefs, Ted could easily match Mephisto's prowess in bed. Besides, she told herself, if she didn't put out for the leatherneck, Mephisto wouldn't get his money. Well, she certainly hoped he would have good use for it, because she was determined to earn every cent of it with a performance the Marine would never be able to buy from a whore.
Betty brushed the tears from her eyes and moved closer to a surprised Ted, who thought he had just blown the deal.
"You don't mind?" he asked softly. "Why should I? Like you said, we need the money."
He didn't need to hear any more than that. His strong arms encircled her in a tight embrace. Mashing his lips against hers, he dueled her wet tongue with his.
Ted brushed his big hands all over Betty's naked back. He slid his long fingers under the elastic of the jockey shorts and he gently clasped the perfectly rounded cheeks of her ass.
"I never thought I'd be making love inside a pair of men's shorts," he said. "Especially my own."
"That feels so good," she whispered.
"It's you that feels good," he corrected. "I've never felt anything this good before."
She knew it wasn't true that whatever girl he happened to be making love to was the one who felt best. But it was nice to hear the little white lies anyway.
Instead of pushing the shorts down off her hips, he took the thin material in his powerful hands and ripped them off, tossing the torn garment aside easily.
Golden Betty was now totally naked. She playfully grasped his shorts and attempted to tear them off. Her attempt was hopeless. Ted pulled them down his legs instead, saying, "I'd better save one pair."
They both giggled.
The sun shown on his long, granite-like prick throwing an enormous shadow on the ground.
Betty took the swollen organ in her hand and stroked it tenderly.
"Suck it!" he commanded.
She looked at his face. Then at his cock. She kneeled in dutiful obeisance and began licking the stiff member. Slowly she moved her tongue down the entire length of the hard cock and then licked his hanging balls that swung loosely underneath. Her hands were restless on his legs and feeling up in the back for the crack of his muscular ass.
Taking his pride and joy between her lips, she sucked until it was good and moist. Just as she was about to remove her lips from the glans, a seemingly endless geyser of hot' semen gushed down her throat. After swallowing all of it, she coughed slightly.
"I'm sorry," said Ted. "I didn't know I was ready to come so soon."
Betty said nothing. She didn't object. This was all part of the sex game that Mephisto had taught her.
When she stood up, Ted pulled her close again and ran his hands hotly over the breadth of her body. Her skin was as soft as satin or velvet. Her curves were firm and healthy, yet soft and feminine.
He got a blanket from the trunk of the car. Putting it down, he and Betty lay there with their legs and arms locked together.
Ted was so passionately worked up over this tasty morsel of female flesh that he practically slobbered over her tits, kissing, biting and sucking them in turn. Each was too big to get a whole tit in his mouth, so he ran his wet, probing lips over them completely and then clamped his mouth over the stiff, pink nipples and sucked.
While his hands restlessly explored other areas of her naked anatomy, he buried his face between the mountainous tits and licked the tender, soft texture of her skin.
One hand found it's way along her silky thighs and felt the curly hairs at the vee. He palmed the ticklish hairs of her wet cunt and squeezed.
His long fuck finger stuck itself up her crack and played with her delighted clitoris until she was throwing her ass all over the blanket with sheer ecstasy.
Ted moved his mouth all over Betty's nude body, gulping great mouthfuls of pliant flesh and at times, hair. His dong was again hard and throbbing for release.
Golden Betty was audibly pleading with him to fuck her. He got her to repeat the dirty words over and over again.
"Fuck me!" she cried as requested. "Fuck me! Shove your hard cock all the way into my cunt!"
He was excited and afraid he might shoot a load before planting the bone inside her. With skill and tenderness, he lifted himself up into a position of entry. He reached under, cupping the cheeks of her ass and pried her willing legs as far apart as possible. Then he lowered his blood-gorged missile to its target.
The damp lips of her eager pussy snapped over the head of his prick and began to suck it in an inch at a time. Thrills shot through his body as the tight but yielding walls of her warm cunt rubbed against his long, sensitive prick. Soon, her hungry twat had swallowed the whole thing, right up to his dangling balls. His bouncing nuts slapped against her bare skin as he began pumping his prick back and forth.
Golden Betty met each and every thrust with an equal thrust of her own lustful hips. As their pelvises crashed together in lust and passion, their breathing became extremely heavy.
His slippery cock and her grasping cunt soon brought Ted and Betty roaring to a pulse-pounding orgasm that seemed never-ending.
She had sucked him off and he had fucked her.
They went at it in a variety of other positions before Betty decided that Ted had gotten his fifteen dollars worth.
As for the young Marine, the experience would turn out to be the most colorful sexcapade he would tell and retell for many, many months to come.
Later on, the journey was resumed in an entirely different atmosphere within the car. Mephisto took the wheel while Golden Betty and Ted sat in the back together. Nobody had to paint a picture for Mephisto to understand what had happened. He had gotten the fifteen bucks he had been promised, but it had also cost him Betty for good. Just like a typical cunt, he thought. She was pissed at him, but rather than say anything about it, she simply sulked. Well fuck her!
He didn't know why he was getting so hot under the collar about it. After all, he'd engineered the deal. And he had thought seriously about ditching her when they got to New York. So what was itching him?
It was just his male ego. He was sure that Betty would fall right back in his arms after the little session with the Marine. He couldn't understand what had happened to change Betty so. He had expected that she would give the leatherneck a timid little piece of ass, but that's all. Apparently that joint she'd smoked must've really been potent. The way she practically sucked and fucked the crotch right off of that jarhead!
She ate him like he was breakfast, lunch and dinner all rolled into one meal!
Now she was giving him the frost bit.
Mephisto pressed harder on the accelerator. He'd had his nuts frosted by birds before. All that counted was the money. The bread he'd need to get a new start in New York. Maybe he'd even run into Zap, if the cops hadn't beat him to it.
"Hey man! Take it easy!" yelled Ted. "I don't wanta get any goddam tickets."
"Sorry about that," Mephisto sarcasmed. "Guess I wasn't looking at what I was doing. You can go on back to your conversation or whatever. Don't mind me." Mephisto knew damn well what was going on in the back seat.
Ted settled back and put his arm around Golden Betty's shoulder with his other hand on her leg.
He was one happy Marine. The hippie had fucked him out of a fast fifteen dollars, but as far as Ted was concerned, it was the best fifteen bucks he'd ever spent. Not only had he gotten a sweet piece of ass, but a whole sex orgy thrown in for good measure.
And now he' was free to sample her favors the rest of the ride. He'd let Mephisto keep the wheel into New York. That in itself would be worth the fifteen bucks. It felt good to have a nice chick cuddled up next to him after all those long hours he'd dreamed of it during boot camp. He'd gotten his nuts off with the whores in San Diego, but nothing was as nice as a real classy chick with real blonde hair and a great body.
They all remained quiet, listening to the car radio as the trees whizzed by.
Ted's hands nonchalantly moved over her arms and legs and tits in a tender, probing manner. He wasn't striving to arouse her. It was just that she felt so good, and he enjoyed feeling her.
Betty was composed and quiet, but not sullen as Mephisto thought. She had accepted the fact of their mutual disaffection and simply was no longer enamoured of the handsome hippie who had meant so much in her young life.
Actually Golden Betty had been so deeply wounded by the treatment at the hands of her hippie lover that the shock of it all hadn't yet worn off. Mentally, she had been shaken but slightly. Later on, much later on, she would remember and shed a flood of tears over the whole sordid matter.
Betty needed a man to lean on, to be good to her, and at the moment, Ted was a more than adequate substitute for the hippie. He was every solid inch a man. She reached up and playfully began to brush his crew haircut with her hand. Then her hand dropped onto his thick muscled thigh. She spread her fingers out and caressed the smoothness and strength of his upper leg.
The result was another lengthening bulge rising up behind the zipper of his khakis. Betty opened his pants and slid her hand inside to fondle and caress him.
Mephisto looked in the rear view mirror and watched the action. He bit his lip with envy. The goddam jarhead was getting hand jobs, blow jobs, and everything else. He saw Betty draw the spire of taut flesh out into the air. The next move didn't surprise Mephisto at all. It was what he would've done in Ted's present position. The Marine lifted Betty's dress high as he helped her onto his lap.
Mephisto did his damndest to hit every bump in the road. He told himself he was just doing it to give the two kids a little help. He wasn't jealous, he knew that much. Just wait till they got to New York and the Marine was gone for good. The stupid little cunt would come running back to him. If he was hard up, he decided he might throw her a quick fuck, but then he'd tell her to kiss his mother-fucking ass.
Suddenly the car hit a dip with such force that Betty was tossed into the air and off Ted's rigid prong. She landed back in his lap on top of the stiff cock in a manner that bent it over to the side. Ted winced with pain and Betty sought to comfort and ease his temporarily discomfited organ.
Up front, Mephisto tried to suppress his grin. "Sorry kids," he said. "That one caught me by surprise."
Ted said nothing. He was thinking only of his pained prick. And Golden Betty was busy rearranging her rumpled dress and feelings.
Needless to say, Ted was no longer in the mood for any sexual play. Not for awhile anyway.
When he regained his composure, Ted thought to himself that Mephisto had purposely gone over the dip in order to cause the minor accident in the rear seat, but he said nothing.
Thereafter, the three of them seldom spoke in the previous jovial and hearty manner of friends. At meal and rest stops, they were the epitome of politeness, saying only what had to be said.
Golden Betty and Ted continued to ride in the rear seat while Mephisto drove the car. He didn't raise any objection to doing all the driving, because he was in a hurry to reach New York and he drove faster than Ted did.
The Marine didn't mind because he wanted to concentrate his attentions on Betty, who was more than friendly in return.
Betty didn't mind because the presence of Ted and his amorous advances had temporarily managed to fill in the void caused by her severed romance with Mephisto.
Each of them was satisfied for his own selfish reasons, and wrapped up in his own selfish daydreams.
Dawn was just breaking as the freeway had given in to a maze of endless city streets. Mephisto turned the radio on loudly to awaken Ted and Betty, who were dozing in the back.
New York City was near and Mephisto now wanted Ted to take the wheel, since he would know his way around better. They stopped and exchanged seats. Ted behind the wheel, Mephisto next to the door in front, and Betty still in back.
The drive seemed to be lasting forever as they threaded their way through the numerous streets and boulevards.
Going out of his own way to do so, Ted drove them directly to Greenwich Village, which Mephisto had requested as their destination. He let them out at Washington Square.
As he drowsily drove away, headed for home, Ted looked in the rear view mirror at the two hippies still standing where he had dropped them.
He wondered what would happen to them now?
CHAPTER TWELVE
The old brownstone building was dilapidated. Its main virtue was that in its four stories, it had many rooms and was thus able to house a whole colony of hippies, which it did.
Mephisto had been referred to the address by a fellow hippie in Frisco and so he and Betty went there immediately. They were welcomed and told to stay as long as they wished. Then a great deal of conversation was expended in comparing hip life on the east coast as opposed to the west.
There was one fellow in the group who was the self-proclaimed king of that particular house of hippies. He called himself Kong. He was taller than Mephisto, very brawny, and ruggedly handsome, with his long sideburns and trim beard. He wore three strings of love beads around his neck, which nestled in the thick, curly hair of his bare chest. While indoors, his costume consisted of the beads, faded Levis and sandals. When he ventured outdoors, he wore a heavy jacket or light tee shirt, depending on the weather.
As Mephisto had had his own private bedroom in his house in San Francisco, Kong reserved his right also to one personal room.
Many rumors about Kong were whispered to Betty and Mephisto by the other hippies. One story had it that he was actually a millionaire in disguise. Another said that he was the son of a prominent society family who had disowned him. The favored rumor held that he was in reality the illegitimate son of an important government figure.
The only one who knew the truth about Kong was Kong himself. And he wasn't telling Naturally no one was presumptuous enough to ask him about his background, and he didn't confide in the numerous hippies who drifted in and out of the house.
Kong had been born in the mid-west of a wealthy family. He had enjoyed many luxuries as he grew up.. In high school he was a football star and received much publicity and attention from the press and from the girls. He was the big man on the high school campus. During his senior year, his father lost most of his money in a bad business venture. The family had to readjust its standard of living. Kong had to quit the team in order to work after school. His grades and his social life suffered in the process. Then he failed to pass his senior examinations. With all the woes befalling him, Kong argued incessantly with his folks and finally told them he was going to join the service. He left home and drifted to New York where he met an elderly fag who owned the large brownstone building.
The queer housed and fed Kong for almost six months before he expired of a heart attack. His will bequeathed the house to Kong who invited hippie companions he had met to come live with him.
Many of the hippies who now were quartered in the building suspected that Kong owned the place, but, no one knew for sure. He had never confided in anyone about his deviate benefactor.
This was the new home for Betty and Mephisto. They immediately settled into the routine of hippie life which differed little from that in Frisco. Betty was still cool to Mephisto for having sold her as a whore to the Marine, even though she had enjoyed the experience tremendously. Sensing the chasm still existed, Mephisto didn't try to force his attentions on her. He figured that she would come around sooner or later.
He hadn't counted on Kong, though. The hippie King took an instant interest in Betty. Although many of the girls were pretty, Golden Betty was easily the most beautiful among them. Her natural freshness glowed with an incandescence that lighted every dark corner. All the young men were struck by her beauty. Some openly displayed their interest from the start, until it became known that Kong was seeking her favors.
Like a real King, Kong came first in all things. His ardent pursuit of Betty only irritated Mephisto, who had hoped she would be so lonely and frightened in the strange city that she would seek him out for comfort.
Originally, before arriving in New York, Mephisto had seriously considered the idea of dumping this bird whom he had thought was too possessive. Now it appeared, it was she who had dumped him.
Male ego is a precious and tender thing. It is easily bruised by the merest slight inflicted by a female. A man can stand a lot of abuse from another man, but he must always retain his belief in his superiority over the female animal.
Mephisto wasn't just hurt by the turn of events, he was crushed. He was truly sorry that he had left the house in San Francisco. There, at least, he was the King. As cock of the walk, he could have Betty or any other cunt at the snap of a royal finger. He was ruler of the roost.
New York was proving to be an unsettling experience indeed. Even though the girls in the house had shown more than a casual interest in his masculine charms, he felt utterly betrayed by the defection of Betty and his helplessness to do anything about it.
Kong was the master. Mephisto was a digger. Completely subservient. Betty ignored him and he had to watch painfully as Kong made time with her.
Mephisto began leaning more heavily on the many drugs available for escape from reality. He was no longer seeking to expand his mind, but was attempting to contract his total consciousness. He tried to seek out Zap, but no one had heard of him. His old drug pusher pal was probably languishing in jail somewhere, he supposed.
Mephisto was right, though he didn't know it. Zap was in jail awaiting trial. He had arrived in New York brimming with ambition and exuberance. There was no way of his knowing that the pot party he had skipped out on had been raided, so his new found confidence was overwhelming.
His syndicate contact immediately put Zap to work in the Spanish Harlem section of the city, pushing horse. He felt safe, feeling that the cops wouldn't know anything about him, a stranger. By the same token, he knew nothing about the local fuzz. So Zap was taken by complete surprise when his first sale turned out to be an undercover narco agent.
Zap, of course, had only been a pawn used by the syndicate. The fuzz had been haunting that particular territory for weeks in hopes of an arrest so that they could move on to another section. Since Zap had been new in town, he couldn't give away anything about syndicate operations. In fact, the poor stupe didn't even suspect that he had only been a patsy. He sat quietly in jail believing that his new bosses were grinding the political machinery to obtain his eventual release.
He was destined to wait for a long time.
Without Zap and without Golden Betty, Mephisto truly found himself all alone. The proffered friendship of the other hippies proved to be insufficient dressing for his deep personal wounds.
One week after his arrival in the giant metropolis, Mephisto joined one of his new companions in an LSD party. The boy had somehow gotten hold of a large supply of LSD which he offered to share with Mephisto. They were down in the cellar, all alone, to take their trip.
Mephisto had hardly even spoken to the boy previously, so he wondered briefly why the lad had chosen to share his treasure with him alone. But he didn't dwell on the thought. He was too anxious to get out of himself and off to the strange land of the inner self.
Normally, he carefully gauged the amount of LSD he took, to try and avoid a possible overdose. This time, he took no such precaution.
In a growing stupor, Mephisto unleashed some of his hidden hostility.
"Goddam broad! You can't trust the bitches!"
"You're absolutely right," agreed the youth, hazily.
"Take my word," announced Mephisto. "Women are a pain in the ass!"
"My sentiments exactly," echoed his partner.
"Who needs the moldy cunts anyway? Right?"
"Right!" was the agreeable reply.
"That fucking Kong ain't the only man around here. She's gonna miss ole Mephisto's big ten inches," he said, rubbing his crotch suggestively.
"Ten inches?" asked the boy incredulously. "Christ! You must really be hung!"
"You bet your sweet ass," crowed Mephisto.
"I'm hung like a goddam stallion. Ten inches man. Wanta measure it?"
"Let's see it," cried the youth excitedly.
Mephisto unzipped his pants and pulled the long hunk of meat out for the boy's inspection. It had grown hard thinking and talking about Golden Betty as he was.
"Wow!" exclaimed the kid, as he ran his hand over the length of it gingerly.
"It's a beauty, ain't it," Mephisto stated, rather than asked.
"I'll say! How about letting me suck it?" the boy looked at Mephisto hopefully.
"So this is what you were after, eh?" Mephisto smiled lewdly.
"What do you mean?" asked the boy innocently.
"Never mind. Eat it, kid! Eat it!"
Mephisto lay back and let the young queer suck him off as he concentrated his thoughts on Golden Betty's ripe young body and the many times he had explored her naked charms.
While thinking of that, the large amount of the drug he had consumed was beginning to have an adverse effect on him. He began to feel a profound sorrow for himself and his present plight. Why should it be? He wondered. Kong, a stranger, with the girl who was rightfully his. And where was he? Hiding in the goddam cellar letting a lousy fag slobber over his crotch.
It wasn't fair!
His blood pressure rose and he began thrashing around. The boy thought that Mephisto was just becoming extremely sexually aroused until he himself was tossed aside by the nailing arms and legs. Mephisto was contorted in a spasm of fury.
Then, mysteriously, he became deathly still.
His eyes though, were glazed, with a wild gleam in them.
The boy tried to restrain Mephisto when he headed for a rear door that led to an alley. However, the drug-crazed hippie was too much for him. Without bothering to zip his pants back up, the haunted-looking Mephisto charged out into the open and ran the length of the alley till he had reached the street.
He wandered about town aimlessly, bumping into pedestrians and shouting vile obscenities to them. A man who' thought he was doing him a favor told Mephisto that his fly was open. Instead of closing it, Mephisto replied by pulling out his prick and waving it at the growing crowd.
Somebody called a cop from the corner two blocks away. He tried to take Mephisto into custody, but the wild-eyed hippie resisted furiously and kicked the cop in the nuts. The officer fell to the sidewalk in agony, but when he recovered sufficiently he telephoned for help.
Hours later, Mephisto was in a restraining jacket inside the walls of Bellevue Hospital. He had been given emergency treatment to bring him back from his dangerous drug trip, but the doctors were in general agreement that the good looking young man would never again be in complete possession of his mental faculties.
Since the police authorities had no way of tracing his background, no one at the house knew what happened to Mephisto. And no one really cared. His young LSD party partner, as well as every one else, thought he had simply vanished into the night. Hippies came and hippies went. No questions were asked when they came and none were asked when they disappeared, unless a hippie's murdered body turned up, which happened on occasion.
Golden Betty was the only one who gave the lost Mephisto more than a second thought. Now that he was gone she began to think more about their romantic relationship. Some nights she went to bed with her eyes wet from crying. While Mephisto was physically present, it was easy to ignore him for the wrong he had done her. But with him gone, possibly for good, she felt the pain of a past love gone astray.
Kong had been ardent in wooing her and now she accepted his constant attentions more readily. He was a man and he was handsome and he was considerate in his treatment of her as a girl. Most of all, he was there. Not somewhere else in the vast world where Mephisto might be, but there. In the same house, under the same roof.
Betty hadn't yet seen Kong's jealous nature in action. It was intense.
Though the King could be the epitome of charm and warmth, he could revert to a beast when faced with any poaching on his private female property.
Like Mephisto, Kong had enjoyed a succession of girl friends, all eager to please their leader. He was strongly attached to a couple of them, but eventually lost interest when a prettier face walked in the door.
Betty was the prettiest girl and the strongest attraction he'd yet experienced. The well of jealousy within him bubbled every time he noticed other boys ogling her. There were no overt incidents, however, to cause him to lose control.
Kong had finally made up his mind what he must do to insure Betty's loyal and positive devotion to him. He decided to take her as his permanent mistress. His Queen.
Circumstances were in his favor. The boy she had arrived with had apparently abandoned her to seek newer pastures. The other boys already understood that Kong had his own designs on her and they wisely kept hands off.
She was pretty, young and passionate. It would only be natural for her to need another man. To win her over and to please her feminine nature, Kong got a couple of hippie boys to help him fix up his austere bedroom into a comfortable and enticing boudoir.
In his cabinet he stocked a good supply of light wines, plus some pot and a container of white powder. He would insure her devotion to him one way or another.
One afternoon, he invited her to his redecorated room to have a glass of wine. She accepted.
Kong was pleased when Golden Betty complimented him on the new decor and said it looked very cozy and warm. He replied by saying straight out that from now on it was to be her room also.
Golden Betty took it calmly. She sensed that Kong would make the proposal sooner or later, and she was ready to accept it. He held his wine glass up to hers to toast the new arrangement.
"You hardly know me, Kong, and I hardly know you. But I'm willing to give it a try," she said of his offer. She could've added that she also hardly knew Mephisto when she had accepted his proposal for cohabitation.
"I knew you'd do it," he smiled. "We're meant to be together. It's in the stars."
"Do you know astrology?" she queried.
"Naturally. Everything is written in the stars. We can't go against what nature has wrought."
"I guess not," she agreed, downing a second jigger of wine.
They discussed their individual zodiac signs and when he heard hers, Kong shouted: "I knew it! I knew it! Your sign and mine are perfect mates. Even without knowing for sure, I felt the attraction that can't be denied. You were meant to be mine and mine alone."
The way he said that gave Golden Betty an uneasy feeling. She wanted Kong to want her, but she didn't want to be owned. Not yet. Was that, perhaps, the feeling that Mephisto had about her? She'd never know the answer to that one.
Kong lighted a joint for himself and Golden Betty. They smoked them slowly, listening to the soft music from Kong's transistor radio. As Betty got higher and higher, she thought about her sexual affairs with Mephisto and then her promiscuous behavior with the Marine who befriended them.
The erotic thoughts were arousing her libido. Across from her, Kong was experiencing his own sexual reveries. Because he was a man, the nature of his thoughts became evident with the rising bulge at the crotch of his Levis.
Golden Betty noticed the hardening cock and moved over to sit next to Kong. She rubbed her hand lovingly over the huge bulge in his britches and felt its heat through the coarse material.
Kong snuffed out the remainder of his cigarette and hers and put his arms around her. He sought her lips with his own and French kissed her with vigor. She returned the ardent kiss, by shoving her tongue all the way into his wet mouth and exploring its moist warmth.
Her hands raced wildly over his bare chest, tweaking the hairs that thickly populated the center of it. She noticed that he felt much harder and more muscular than Mephisto had been. He was every bit as muscular as the brawny Marine.
She took his beads off so they wouldn't get in the way as she moved her lips over his massive chest, kissing the firm flesh and biting the flat nipples with her teeth.
Kong caressed Golden Betty tenderly, exploring all the curves she had to offer. He easily maneuvered her dress up over her head and off without any awkward motion.
Unfastening the top of his Levis, Kong shook them off his legs and then carried Golden Betty over to the bed. They were now both totally naked.
He plunked her down and feasted his eyes on her smorgasbord of fleshly delights.
Her large, full tits stood almost erect though she was in a reclining position. The skin was satiny in its sheen and texture.
His eyes traveled hungrily down her body to the bushy crack between her widespread legs. It was not the budding vagina of a young Lolita, but the full grown, blooming pussy of a woman. He kneeled over her and buried his face in the damp bush and kissed her cunt with open lips. He rammed his long tongue up her twat to stimulate the juice of love which came flowing onto his lips. He lapped frantically at the wet pussy until Golden Betty had to throw her legs around his neck in her passionate frenzy.
She experienced complete orgasms as the cunt juices dribbled over her lover's chin, into his beard. The beard itself had elicited new sensations from her sensitive thighs as Kong sucked her pussy.
Betty scraped her fingernails over Kong's exposed back, drawing dotted lines of red blood.
He turned her over on her stomach and commenced licking the velvety crack of her creamy white ass. Pushing his bristly bearded cheeks up against the pillows of her ass, he drove his tongue deep into her asshole and wiggled it around inside to excite her to another spate of juicy climaxes.
When he withdrew his tongue, her asshole was wet and slippery with his spit. He poised his stiff cock over the lubricated hole and slowly entered the head. It was a tight squeeze, but the slippery spit helped to ease the way.
The thick head of his prick was past the sphincter. He shoved harder, plowing ahead for several more inches.
Golden Betty grunted. She told him she was afraid he was going to split her open. Kong told her not to worry, that he knew what he was doing.
With easy but forceful pumping and great skill, Kong had managed to drive in the entire twelve inches. His hairy balls were resting on the crack of her ass. He eased back some and began a very gentle pumping motion to get his rocks off.
His huge cock had pained Betty somewhat when he was driving it into her ass, but now that it had gained full entry, she wanted it to stay. The throbbing penis felt wonderful inside her ass, as if it belonged there. When he began fucking her asshole, she writhed under him in ecstasy. He reached around her hips and fingered her clitoris at the same time that he pumped the meat into her ass.
He had just plunged it in again to the hilt when he came in her, flooding her insides with a torrent of hot jism that warmed and thrilled her.
Kong turned her over again and proceeded to kiss and caress her soft tits with their taut nipples. He relentlessly moved his hot lips over her entire naked body.
When his depleted cock had again become rock-hard, he began to fuck her with gusto. He slapped the head of it between her cunt lips and easily shoved the foot long prick all the way up her wet and ready pussy. Inside her clinging cunt, the rigid cock felt even better than in her ass.
He fucked her furiously until the bedclothes were wet and sticky from the overflow of their seminal juices. Kong felt as though his tingling balls had pumped gallons of come into the two openings of her body in which he had planted his pole.
Taking time out only to recharge his testicles, Kong fucked Golden Betty three more times before resting completely.
He looked over at her naked form. She was sound asleep after the most satisfying sexual orgy she had ever experienced.
Kong knew now that he must not lose her. The stars had brought her to him, of that he was sure. But she was too tempting to other men. It would kill him if she decided to go off with any other man.
But hippie girls were noted for their promiscuity. He'd have to make sure she never left his side.
Getting the white powder from his cabinet, he made the preparation and filled the hypodermic needle. Taking her limp arm, he found the vein and inserted the pricking needle which caused Golden Betty to open her eyes in surprise.
The dose of heroin was to bind her forever to Kong and her new life as a convenient sex vehicle and a thoroughly helpless junkie.
