Julie Baldwin pressed her face to the bus window as it rolled into the depot in downtown Los Angeles. It seemed strange that only three days ago she had left her home town in Iowa and the narrow confines of her family life.
Now she was free. Free to live her seventeen-year-old life, and search for the truth and understanding that she knew she would find in the world famed cultural center of Los Angeles and its environs.
But the pressing problem was where to start and, particularly, where to stay. At least for tonight and until she had a chance to look around the town.
Frowning, Julie made her way across the busy bus depot to the snack bar, paid fifteen cents for a cup of coffee and sat to think things out.
Julie's long, blonde hair brushed against her pert, young breasts as she leaned across the table to an inoffensive, balding man, who was meditatively munching a sandwich opposite to her.
"Excuse me, sir. Could I have the sugar?"
The man slid the container across the formica-topped table, his eyes appraising the firmness of her young body as he spoke.
"Sure."
His hand touched hers fleetingly as he continued. "You're new in town, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Julie kept her eyes down as she stirred her coffee.
"Got to look around and find me a cheap pad," she said; he looked like a nice guy, and maybe could help.
Pulling his eyes up from their contemplation of her breasts, he answered almost paternally.
"Well, if you don't mind sharing a bachelor's pad, I could fix you up until you find your way about town."
His voice sounded casual and reassuring as he spoke to her, telling of his job traveling around California and calling on the retail dress shops with samples from the manufacturers he worked for.
"Maybe I could fix you up with some of the stuff I'm carrying," he suggested over their second cup of coffee. "You look as if a couple of dresses wouldn't hurt your wardrobe any."
Taking mental stock of the few clothes that were in her battered suitcase under the table, Julie nodded her head in agreement. If she was going to make a good impression here in the big city, she would certainly have to wear clothes that didn't brand her as being straight from the boondocks. The ones she had on now branded her as if she were carrying a banner with "Hicksville" written across her boobs.
A little frown of doubt played across her face.
"Yes, I'd like that." Her voice trailed away uncertainly. "But how am I going to pay for them, I don't have much money to throw around."
"Who said anything about money, kid? We'll figure some way to work it out. Nobody ever said that Lennie Alman let a couple of bucks come between him and a friend."
Julie saw the little crinkles of laughter around his eyes as he reached over to pat her hand reassuringly. He seemed such an alright guy, not chicken shit and up-tight about money, like the men were back home. Whatever he said, whatever advice he offered, was going to be alright by Julie.
Sensing her trust, Lennie continued.
"There are some things you don't know about L.A., sister. Let's get some of them on record. First, this town is a jungle. And, like any jungle, the natives don't use cash as currency. They trade and barter. Wheel and deal. Everything has a price. You want something? Okay, let's trade. You, young lady, are sitting on a gold mine. You're young, good-looking and healthy. There are a hell of a lot of guys around willing to pay for a bit of the action. You've put out before and what's it got you? A seat at the theater and maybe a hotdog for chasers. Don't give it away, kid. Sell it. You need what they've got. They need what you've got. Start dealing. And there's no time like the present. Let's go, should we?"
Julie thought it over as Lennie went off to pay the check. A lot of it made sense. She was good-looking and knew it. Her body had rounded out to perfection in the last few years.
Lennie's coolly open appraisal made her realize that even if she didn't have much in the way of cash in her purse, she did have a few assets that meant she wouldn't have to go hungry in this town.
She'd do as he suggested. A moist, tingling urge flowed through her pussy as she understood the decision that she had made. Apart from the help she knew she would get from any of the men she let screw her, her heart pounded at the realization of the pleasure of having a hot, pulsing, throbbing prick plunged into the depth of her untouched vagina. At last, she'd be a woman. Being treated like a woman and getting some of the pleasure and gratification of womanhood.
As Lennie returned from the check counter, she clipped her free hand through his arm and smiled up at him as he led her through the swinging door and out to his car on the parking lot behind the bus station.
Settling back into the seat beside him, she let her attention wander between the novelty of the gaudy, bustling streets of downtown L. A. and the insistent, hot stimulation of his hand as it slid caressingly over the flesh of her thigh.
Taking one of her hands, he placed it over the bulging crotch of his pants, letting her feel the hard, rod-like promise of what lay ahead. The blood pounded in her head and she could feel the wet warmth of her eager love pit soaking into her dress as Lennie brought the car to a halt in the courtyard of the Eden Motel.
Twenty minutes later, she felt the hardness of his huge cock as he eased it into her open, wondering mouth.
"If you bite again, I'll knock the goddamn teeth right down your throat." The words spat over Julie's naked body like the hiss of an angry snake.
With difficulty, she mouthed a reply around the bulging, purple-headed penis that was probing and thrusting rhythmically into her stretching mouth.
"I can't help it. It's so big," she said, having, with a quick jerk of her head, freed her mouth of its impossible burden. She savored the sharp, taste on her tongue and spoke again.
"Could we do it the normal way?" she asked hopefully. "Put it in my cunt. I'm all wet and ready for you."
Lennie looked at her disbelievingly, and his voice was a mixture of exasperation and scorn as he answered.
"Baby, this is Hollywood, and this is the normal way."
As his cock slid into the moist, waiting recess of her young mouth, she heard him muttering to himself.
"She must be some kind of a pervert, wanting that old-fashioned crap. This town certainly draws nuts."
Lennie's throbbing, eight-inch tool worked in her open mouth. The slimy, lubricating emission oozed from the blood-suffused, pulsating, purple head and mixed with her own hot saliva, making its passage easy. But try as she may, with her mouth wide open and the little sockets of her jaws aching with the strain of it, she could still feel the hard, sharp grate of her back teeth as his prick slid off the flickering caress of her tongue and onto the sharp rocks of her white teeth.
"Watch it, or I'll belt you." The warning came at her again over the pounding of the bed in the darkened motel room.
Frantically, to avoid the punishment that she knew would descend upon her, Julie reached up and took the swinging balls encased in their soft, wrinkled pouch as it beat against her chin at each shuddering upthrust. Softly, lovingly, she twiddled the spongy, egg-shaped balls until she heard his sharp intake of breath and gasps of delight.
"That's it, lover. Now make with the tongue underneath."
Eagerly, Julie obeyed. Anything to end this punishment quickly.
"A bit further to the top. Down and to the left a bit. AHHHHHHHHHH." Lennie's involuntary cry of ecstasy was forced from his panting mouth. "That's it. Right on the vinegar string. Now suck, kiddo, like you've never sucked before."
In his mounting excitement, Lennie thrust his bulging tool deeper and deeper into the warmly yielding recess of her mouth. Deeper and deeper until she was retching and gagging on the hard intrusion against the soft, sensitive lining at the back of her throat. In self-defense, she brought her free hand from where it was supporting the pounding of her head against the padded headboard and grasped the lower end of Lennie's staff.
The gathered skin of his scrotum was wet with the saliva from her overworked mouth. Making a circle with her thumb and fingers, she could barely grasp the circumference of the distended cock that seemed to be penetrating through every fiber of her being, through her throat, into her mind, until the whole world seemed to be composed of one huge, pulsating, purple-headed prick that was beating, thrusting, violating every principle that she had ever been taught to believe when she was a child.
But she was getting to like it.
Getting to like the feeling of helplessness that she had before this huge, thrusting, God-like dong. If she held tightly to bottom end of his frantically working prick, she could control the amount that slid past her full, red lips, keeping it in her wet, drooling mouth where she could enjoy it. Stop the insistent thrusting of this universal prick against the sensitive membranes of her throat. Whenever she retched, her mouth closed during the involuntary convulsion, driving her teeth against the frantic flesh of this awe-inspiring, utterly satisfying and gloriously hard prick.
Squeezing hard, her fingers nearly met around Lennie's distended dong. With the tightly held skin in her hand, she could feel the texture of the underlying muscle as it rippled under her fingers. Prodding, prodding, passionately into her now eager, working mouth. One distant part of her mind worked independently from the clamorous mounting sexual excitement within her.
If my hand is three inches across and I hold on to his dong, that means I'm only getting the top five inches of it into my mouth. She gave up trying to work the depth of her mouth out by her hat size. Arithmetic was never her strong point, even at school.
Lennie Alman's voice was harsh as it cut into her reverie.
"Are you going to sleep down there? You're here to suck, baby, not sleep. Make with the tongue, like I told you."
Joyfully, Julie obeyed. By now the passion of Lennie's eager thrustings, and the knowledge that she had this virile, pounding animal of a man completely at her command was doing wonderful things for her ego.
And her moist, twitching twat as well.
A surging repetitive roar filled her head, like the boom of surf on a distant, seething beach. And, like Venus, she mounted higher and higher on each successive wave of growing sexual fervor.
With renewed zeal, she flicked her tongue around his dong, as it filled her mouth and mind with its fish-tasting, primeval man flavor.
Her legs crossed compulsively, the fleshy thighs forcing the lips of her juicy vagina against the distended bulb of her clitoris. She squirmed in a frustrating desire to get her rocks off and to fill her cunt with the same, nerve-tingling satisfaction that she was experiencing in her cock-filled mouth.
"Jee-zus, I'm coming," Len's voice screeched at her, as he grasped the sweat-wet, blonde hair on her pounding head, pressing her tight into the pouch of his stomach. The thick, black pubic hair above his chopper tickled her nose as he pressed her closer to him.
A low, tortured moan burst from his grimacing mouth.
"Here it is, Julie baby. I'm going to shoot my load down that smooth, warm throat of yours. Suck, keep sucking. Don't stop."
His rigid body twitched convulsively, as the hot, thick emission burst from the palpitating, swollen end of his massive tool.
Julie's hand rhythmically massaged the few inches of pumping cock that extended from the bow of her mouth. The central tube of his cock convulsed as she felt the passage of the teeming millions of sperm heading in a wild charge towards her waiting mouth.
She closed her eyes, breathing heavily through her nostrils. Her mouth stretched to contain the pulsating cock as it seemed to bulge to an even bigger dimension in the final agony and ecstasy of Len's spermatic release.
And then it came pouring, flooding, exploding into her receptive mouth. The prod of his gigantic tool pushed her curled tongue aside, allowing the frothy white semen to run down her arched throat.
Instinctively, Julie backed off from this prolific outburst.
The shuddering, blue-veined enormity of his rampant, discharging probe spat its final excruciating emission into the hot cavity of her now half-filled mouth. And still it poured from him, filling her mouth, distending her cheeks, until a white froth of bubbly semen escaped from the tight seal of her lips as they clamped around his pumping, spurting prick.
Julie felt the gradual cooling of the fluid as it ran down her chin and dripped slowly, cold and alien onto the smooth thrust of her young breasts.
Lennie painfully removed the now flaccid, overworked member from her spilling mouth.
Her eyes looked at him in mute appeal as she reached over to the bedside table for a tissue to empty the sharp, fish-tasting semen from her drooling, bruised mouth.
"What the hell are you aiming to do?" Len asked inquisitively.
"Spit this crap out," Julie mumbled, her tongue uncontrollable among the seething sperm-filled discharge in her mouth.
Len sat bolt upright on the bed. His voice was filled with indignation.
"Are you trying to insult me or something? Swallow it or I'll clobber you. Think you're too good for a gut full of my juices, do you?"
Beneath the threat of his uplifted hand, Julie gulped dutifully, relishing the contrast in sensation between the bitter-sweet acrid fluid in her mouth, and the lasting, sticky embrace of the come as it slid slowly and finally down her throat, past the gullet, to end in an ultimate and complete communion in her receptive stomach.
Her eyes were bright with desire as she looked up at Lennie towering above her. As she breathed, the man-smell of his semen, stale and pungent, assailed her nostrils. Flushing her mouth with saliva and swallowing again, she spoke. Her voice was husky with unfulfilled desire in the darkness of the motel room, as she suppressed her needs.
"Fuck me, Len. Fuck me quickly. I want to feel you deep inside me, your balls pounding against me. Screw me, Len, before I burst."
Len was aghast.
"Fuck you? Put my prick into that lovely pink hole of yours? I'm no pervert, baby. I'm going to eat it."
Eagerly, Len reversed his position on the bed. The brown eye of his ass winked at her for a moment in the reflected light of the flickering neon sign outside the curtained window.
With practiced hands, Len gripped her ankles and slowly spread her legs apart. His eyes, level with the bed, surveyed her hungrily.
Slowly, his gaze traveled upwards. The position of his eyes made her long, slim legs seem distorted as they stretched upwards in an inverted vee, joining the round smoothness of her young stomach in a little fuzz of pubic hair.
Away in the distance over the seemingly infinite mound of her white stomach, the firm teenaged breasts thrust pointedly upwards, creamy white and trembling slightly as she drew in her gasping breath. Poised at the utmost tip, the tiny, firm fruits of her raised nipples looked like two mouthwatering cherries placed at the top of an upturned ice cream sundae.
Julie's slender throat strained upwards in a tense sexual rigidity. Her chin moved slightly as she moaned.
"Len, for Christ sake, eat me, screw me, do something. I'm on fire!"
Eager to please, Len slid his hands up the inside of her legs and thighs. As he reached the juncture of her legs, he gently placed his short, stubby thumbs in the moist slit of her twat.
Carefully and tenderly, he opened the love lips and exposed the tender red meat of her moist and eager cunt to his avid gaze.
The flashing neon sign outside the window gave a wild effect to the spectacle before him. Julie's untouched virgin pussy was wet and glistening with the moistness of the clear juices that oozed from it in such satisfying profusion. The pink tenderness of the little lips folded like shy petals over the tight, untouched hole of her vagina.
Parting them with his probing fingers, he caressed the small swollen bean of her red throbbing clitoris.
Eagerly he leaned forward on the bed, thrusting his face nearer and nearer to the inviting feast that palpitated before him.
Julie's low moans of anticipation changed abruptly to annoyance as Len's rough whiskers chafed against the smoothness of her soft thigh.
"Easy, baby. Easy," Len's voice droned soothingly from out of the darkness.
And then, with mounting fervor, she felt the warmth of his straining breath ruffling the soft, golden pubic hair, then the quick, shuddering intake of his breath before he pressed his flushed, eager face against her thrusting, yearning cunt.
Still holding the lips apart, his tongue traveled up the full length of her clammy split, from the slightly sweaty, turd taste of her tightly puckered little brown asshole, scooping deeply as it passed over the trembling vaginal opening. Up slowly, savoring the flowing juices, his tongue sought and found the pulsing pod of her clit. Sucking gently, he drew it into his mouth and between his teeth, flicking at it with his tongue as he bit down gently.
A deep gasp of surprise welled up from inside her trembling body.
"Lennie," she shuddered, "I never knew that anything could be as wonderful as this. Lick me, eat me. Faster, faster. Don't ever stop."
Gratified at her appreciation, Len worked furiously with her legs tight around his ears, cutting off all sound and communication with the outside world. Alone in a cunt-filled world that he was trying to eat his way out of, Len abandoned himself whole-heartedly to the delights before him.
With his nose buried in the hot pink closeness of her tight pussy, snorting slightly as he breathed, he forced his tongue into her saliva-lubricated asshole.
Julie arched her back against the springs of the mattress as she thrust herself at him. Reaching down, she grasped her ankles and drew her legs all the way up to her chest, forcing more of the ripe red meat of her cunt into Len's eager, questing mouth.
Through her half-open eyes, she could just distinguish the glistening sweat on Len's forehead as it rose out of the bush of her pubic hair.
Lennie's flickering tongue worked faster and faster, matching the rhythm of Julie's approaching climax. Exploring every flower-soft fold of delicious pink flesh, he went deep into her vagina, past the spasmodically contracting sphincter at the entrance to her convulsing sex pit. Lapping the sweet juices from her lovewell. Then, with practiced birdlike swoop, to flutter the full length of her slick cunt. Sucking up the juices like an express train, sloshing them around in his mouth and mixing them with his saliva and pumping them back into her opening through pursed lips. Then finally, in a paroxysm of endeavor, to concentrate on her distended clit as the girl rolled helpless on the bed in the throes of her sweet agony.
"Oh Len," her voice was labored in the intensity of her feeling. "It's happening. I can feel it coming. My feet are all funny and my toes are curling up. It moves up my legs. My cunt's on fire. I'm flooding, bursting ... Oh Len, I've come."
Len relaxed between the press of her legs and I slowly licked the juice from her drenched crack. Julie's breath became steadier and her toes began to straighten.
Lennie furtively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he slid up the bed beside her.
"Well, baby. How'd you like them apples?"
Julie's face was radiant as she replied.
"Darling, if that's normal for Hollywood, I'm glad I came."
"You're going to 'come' a lot in this town, kiddo," Lennie replied laconically.
CHAPTER TWO
Julie felt that she had only been asleep for minutes when she became conscious of soft fumbling fingers working along the moist underside of her lips. Half dazed and drowsy with sleep, she lay passively as Lennie's insistent fingers slid into her limp mouth, forcing her teeth farther and farther apart. The bed springs protested dully as she felt his hot, hairy body sliding up. The coarse hair of his chest rasped against the delicate ripeness of her nipples as he inched his way up the bed until he was crouching over her. As if in a distant dream, she felt the disassociation of her mind from what was happening to her as Lennie's prick began to inch its way past her lips and onto the soft waiting pad of her wet tongue.
Stealthily, thinking her asleep, Lennie held his swollen member, gently massaging her unresisting tongue with the oozing, sensitive end of his prick. Carefully, stealthily allowing only the tingling nerve ending under the glans to come into contact with the stimulation of her saliva-moistened tongue.
Every desire that surged through his humped and panting body seemed to be concentrated in one tingling, electric inch of his undulating, sliding staff.
Julie lay still, feigning sleep, afraid even to swallow in case her awakening raised him to a furthered frenzied pounding into her stretching mouth. The memory of his huge prong, probing, penetrating past her tongue and battering against the yielding membranes of her throat as it had earlier, kept her still. Unable to swallow, the saliva built up in the well of her mouth.
The clear emission that dripped from the soft, sliding knob end mixed with her saliva, leaving a salty taste as the huge intruding tool slopped back and forth against her tongue. Each thrust of Lennie's huge member, as gentle as he was, caused a little of the spermatic mixture to spill and run coldly down her cheek. Her whole chin was saturated and wet. As his balls bounced rhythmically against her firm young chin, they came away moist and glistening from the contact.
Lennie's hands were tight on the bed head above her, his face a grey, half-seen blob in the dark space of the motel room.
His voice muttered over and over again, like some softly crooned lullaby, "Suck baby, suck. Keep sucking ... Move your tongue. Suck ... suck ... suck."
Against her will, like someone hypnotized, Julie felt her tongue begin to move within her mouth. Tentatively and uncertain at first, then with increased sureness, she felt the shuddering response of the man poised above, while she let her tongue flicker over the hardness of Lennie's slowly working member. The saliva built up in her mouth, making her swallow involuntarily.
A cry of delight broke from the sweating Lennie.
"That's it, chick. You've got it. Every time I push my prick in, you swallow. Let your tongue sort of lick along the length of my dick as it goes in. Then suck hard as it slides out. Make like you don't want to let go. That's it. You're catching on fast. A little more practice and you'll be the best head job in Hollywood. And that's saying something, believe me. Don't slacken up. Keep at it. Work while I talk. Good ... good."
Dutifully Julie obeyed Lennie's muttered instructions. She was learning fast and enjoying the lessons. She had a tremendous sense of power knowing that she had got a man literally trembling on the tip of her tongue. She knew that if she allowed her attention to wander for a single moment, breaking the routine of her flickering tongue's steady caress across his bulging extremity, that his faltering plea for stimulation would come from the bottom of his surging senses-a yearning cry from the pit of his aching need. At will, she could alter the whole chemistry of the man she was blowing.
To build him up with the sharp rasp of her tongue against his flesh ... To build him up until the sexual need of his aching balls would drive him to promise whatever she demanded. Then, with a few firm revolutions of her searching tongue, she made him burst in an explosive release of surging sperm, draining him of all the intensity of his pounding, earlier virility.
This was the kind of power that belonged to very few; maybe a few kings and politicians-and a girl who could give a good head job. Maybe she could try her newfound power on Lennie as he lay spent and breathing heavily beside her on the bed.
"Lennie ... Lennie darling," she breathed softly into the darkness between them. And reaching under the bedclothes, she stroked his prick as it lay limp and spent, curled up across his drained balls.
"Lennie, hon, you want me to blow you again. Huh?"
Lennie's head twisted up from off the pillow.
"No, you sex-starved son of a bitch. Leave me alone, can'tcha?"
Lennie felt the warmth of her breath as she peeled back his foreskin and blew gently on the sensitive, exposed rawness of his knob end.
"For Christ sake, give me a break for an hour while I recharge my balls."
"But I've nothing to do. I'm bored."
"Read a book or something."
The bed heaved as Julie stepped onto the floor.
"There aren't any. I'll tidy up the room for awhile I guess."
"Light me a cigarette as you're up, will you, kid?"
Julie reached across him to the bedside table, her breasts a tempting mouthful as they brushed across his face. Tentatively, Lennie licked at the pink, puckered nipples, roseate against the whiteness of the plump, firm tits. Julie swayed sensuously, delighting in the firm slap of her swinging breasts across his face. Her breath came faster as the stimulated nipples rose and firmed to the touch of his unshaven face. Her words dripped down on him like honey.
"Let's sixty-nine Lennie. You eat me while I blow you. Come on, hon, let's blow."
Lennie took the cigarette from between her fingers.
"Soon, baby, soon. Why don't you try on some of those things I've got in my sample cases. The head jobs you give deserve some thanks. Keep on this way, you'll be the best dressed chick in California. You've just won a Blow-for-a-Blouse competition; help yourself."
Lennie lay back on the pillow and watched her as she crossed the room to the clothes closet in the far wall. His eyes slipped appreciatively over her ripe young body as she padded across the soft carpeting. Her tight buttocks swayed with the movement of her legs as she walked. Turning around to speak to him, her long blonde hair rippled across her pointed breasts. One shy pink nipple peeped through the soft shining silk of her loose hair. Although not much of a man for poetry, Lennie half remembered something he had learned at school, some crud about a shy deer in a forest.
Involuntarily, Lennie raised himself up on one elbow.
"You know something, Julie. You're a good-looking chick. Help yourself to a couple of outfits. They'll look better on you than some of the broads that pay cash for their clothes."
Like a benign sultan, Lennie lowered himself back among the pillows and watched as Julie opened the closet door and bent down to pull out the sample cases.
Her back was towards him, the long tapering legs sweeping up to join the tight crescent of her bent ass. As she bent, her little pink pussy swung into view under the crack of her ass, moist and inviting, glistening in the circle of light that spilt from under the shade of the dressing table lamp. The blonde frill of her pubic hair contrasted with the pink-lipped redness of her stretched twat.
Lennie exhaled cigarette smoke, watching her movements through the undulating blue cloud that slowly spread across the room.
Still stooping, she dragged the heavy cases towards the table at the foot of the bed.
Lennie's eyes followed the contours of her nubile body as she bent, intent on her task. The soft, fleshy ellipse of her thigh swept whitely up to join the opposing curve of her stomach. The straining abdominal muscles showed as two velvet covered ridges on either side of her oval navel. The jut of her ribcage sat like a shield so that the soft stomach seemed to slip under it as she moved. A little fold of puppy fat came and went as she altered her position.
Thrusting out sharply, came the unbelievable cones of her pointed breasts. Straight out from her chest, in a muscle-toned defiance of gravity. The pink, budlike nipples surrounded by a deeper hued circle with the faint suggestion of a blue vein spreading vinelike across the white flesh of her tits as they merged with the pectoral muscles and the delicate arch of her armpits. A faint blonde fuzz of hair glistened in their pockets.
Lennie watched her fascinated.
"Tell me something. Have you ever been fucked in the armpits? The next hard I get is going to do something original. Your armpits, then maybe between your tits. I'm lying here thinking, baby ... I'll come up with some beauties before morning ... I'll have no samples left, but I'll have the cleanest set of tubes in the country."
Julie giggled as she undid the leather strap around the heavy sample case.
"I'm learning fast, feller. I've got it. You want it. Let's trade, should we?"
A squeal of excitement came from her as she lifted the lid off the first case.
"Oh Lennie, so many lovely things. I don't know where to start. Can I have them all?"
Lennie grinned at her from across the room.
"I should live that long? Tell you what, I'll make a will out and die happily."
Spreading the contents of the cases out on the bedside table, Julie's hands rippled through them like a locust through corn.
If Julie was well stacked as a broad, Lennie was equally well stocked as a salesman. Admittedly, all his samples were intended for the lower priced budget market. But among them were plenty of eye-stopping copies of originals, well enough made to have that elusive quality of style and class that marks the well-dressed, attractive woman from the scrubber.
Julie, with that remarkable gift that so many women have, went straight for the better, higher priced ones. Choosing first a little miniskirted two-piece costume of flaxen hop sack, she held the jacket in front of her as she looked into the full length mirror behind the door.
The light, honey color of the flax brought out the shimmering gold of her blonde hair. The slightly rough texture of the material accentuated the subtle smoothness of her glowing young skin.
Squirming her hips in an unconsciously sensual movement, she struggled into the skirt. Her breast thrusted forward as she strained behind her to fasten the zip.
Lennie's eyes were glued on her as she dressed. Looking at the fall of the snug skirt as it clung to her rounded hips, the memory of the firm, rounded flesh beneath it glowed red and warm within him.
His gaze traveled upwards, stopping at her breasts as they pushed their way out of the unbuttoned jacket.
"It's a shame to cover your knockers. They're fantastic. But open up the other case. There are some blouses and things in there."
Julie removed her jacket and went back to the other case where she had left it in the middle of the floor.
Wearing only her miniskirt, the small strip of clothing about her thighs only seemed to accentuate the nudity of her breasts as they rippled fluidly in time to her stride.
Choosing a well-tailored see-through blouse in a light tan color, she shrugged into it, tossing her long hair back from her shoulders before buttoning up the front.
Lennie looked at her with the eyes of a sartorial connoisseur. She was one of those rare broads who looked even sexier dressed than when lying naked and wide open on a bed.
The glow of her flesh seemed to shimmer through the transparency of the blouse. As she leaned over to rummage deeper into the case, the semi-concealment of the patch pockets fell away from her outlined breasts. The tan of the material deepening the pink of her nipples, contrasting them strongly against the white, swan sweep of her throat.
Lennie cleared his throat apologetically.
"What you need now are a pair of tan casual shoes and a purse to pick up the color of the blouse. Guess you'll have to blow a shoe salesman for those, honey. I don't carry them."
Julie selected half a dozen pairs of pantyhose then began peeling off her newly acquired clothes.
The bed creaked as Lennie sat bolt upright.
"What the hell are you gonna do now?"
"Start sucking. There's a pants suit and knitted jumper that I fancy in the other case."
With a satisfied sigh, Lennie settled down on the bed, arching his back to thrust his hairy prick up to reach her questing mouth.
Tenderly, Julie sucked, drawing in the half-hard cock into her mouth, stimulating the sensitive underside with her searching tongue. Following Lennie's grunted instructions, she sucked, swallowed and probed. Her head worked in a slow rotating movement while little animal grunts of pleasure mingled with her shallow breathing.
The hairy growth of his coarse pubic hair rubbed against her nose, brushing against her fluttering eyelashes as she worked. With every lick of her tongue she could feel the cock in her mouth jerking spasmodically, increasing in size and hardness until her crowded tongue was unable to complete the circle of its travel around the purple, distended, intruding knob end that pulsated with such virility within the confines of her extended mouth. Cupping his tightly drawn balls in her hands, she caressed them gently as she concentrated her mouthing on the underside of his prick. Her fingers, ferreting among the folds of his scrotum, sought and found the eggshaped balls snugly encased in their enfolding bag.
Gently, between finger and thumb she delicately rolled his spongy balls, feeling them slip through her fingers as Lennie groaned his pleasure of this new stimulation. Holding his nuts firmly with one hand, the little crab movements of her fingers pinched and traced the course of his spermatic cord as it left the round gristle of his testicles.
Lennie groaned aloud in the delicious ecstasy that is so close to agony.
"Carefully baby. You want to ruin me?"
Julie let the throbbing dong slip from her mouth.
"I never knew anything could be so beautiful. Have you ever felt them, Lennie?"
Taking his hand, she pushed his fingers around his balls.
"Aren't they groovy? If they were mine, I'd play with them all day."
Lennie freed his hand and pushed her head back down to his groin. He pressed her face to him.
"Who's stopping you, kid? All I ask is you go softly and don't bite the merchandise."
Rolling over on the bed so that he crouched astride her, Lennie lowered his balls into her open mouth. Moist sucking noises came from her as she drew his testicles beyond her lips, rolling her tongue around and around the fleshy tissue of his balls as she gently kept them captive with her half-closed teeth.
Reaching up, her hands sought and found his rampant member. Freeing his balls for a moment, she let the saliva drool from her mouth into her palms, moistening them before gently massaging the full length of his erect tool between her rubbing, rotating hands. Her pointed tongue flickered around his nuts, keeping time with the sweep of her circling palms.
Trapped and unable to thrust his aching member along the palms of her soft-fleshed hands, Lennie surrendered himself to her ministrations and newfound expertise.
This kid was a natural. In one short night, she learned to give a better head job than many broads who had been sucking cocks for years.
Lennie reveled in the delight of her teasing tongue, knowing that he'd soon be sucked dry .... of semen, clothing samples and everything. And when that happened, the head job she could give would soon bring her to the attention of experts. Christ knew where she'd end up, but it wouldn't be sucking cocks for samples. That was for sure.
Julie sensed the quietness in him as he thought, and she renewed her efforts. Faster, firmer, her circling hands massaged his slimy dong as the clear, lubricating emissions oozed from the eye of his urethra. Her tongue teased around his captive, teeth-held balls.
Sweat dripped from Lennie's face, stinging his eyes with salt as it coursed down his cheeks. His voice was a strangled sob.
"Faster ... Tighter near the top. You're on the button. Keep it like that ... Ahhhhhhhhh, I'm coming ... I'm coming."
Julie felt the testicles jerking against her tongue. Loosening her teeth, she let them slip by her lips to bury themselves in his pelvic cavity. His dong seemed to swell to enormity in her hands. It jerked spasmodically while the pearl white semen spurted forth, trickling through her spread fingers to fall warmly on her upturned face. She ran her tongue tentatively around her lips, savoring the salty taste of his semen on her palate.
In one final convulsive effort, Lennie thrust his rod forward, freeing it from the confines of her still stroking hands. The end of his prick, free and pointing like a cannon at her head, spurted in a final paroxysm of anguish.
The ejection splattered against her forehead and over her blonde hair as it streamed across the bedspread.
Lennie grinned down at her sperm-covered face and head.
"Guess I've baptized you, baby. Welcome to the Honorable Order of Cocksuckers."
Laughing, Julie massaged Lennie's spermatic discharge into her skin, paying particular attention to the flesh around the eyes. Her sperm-moistened fingers slid smoothly as she massaged and patted the sticky fluid into her pores.
"Say, this stuff must be seething with hormones. This way I'll never get old. No wrinkles, nothing."
Pirouetting, she turned to the mirror, grimacing at her reflection as she widened the circle of her eyes and stretched her mouth to allow the creamy substance to be absorbed in the lines of her face.
"How much could we get for this stuff done up in pretty bottles? We'd make a bitchin' business selling it to old ladies," she said. "Dr. Lennie's Lotion-Jerk your way to beauty-Loveliness at your fingertips. Let's think of a slogan, okay?"
Exhaustion was in Lennie's reply as he lay on the bed.
"I've got a better idea. Let's slike off to sleep instead. The plant's closed down for the night."
With a sigh of satisfaction at a day well spent, Julie slipped under the covers and cuddled up to Lennie's matted chest. Her gentle breathing ruffled the grizzled greying hair as her mouth sought his nipples.
Lennie's voice came faintly to her as he turned off the bedside lamp.
"Boy, you sure like to suck, don't you?"
Julie's reply flowed across the darkened room.
"Got used to my thumb when I was a kid. Guess I never really lost the habit after all. When I came to Los Angeles, I was sort of looking forward to getting laid ... Being a woman and all that. I've never sucked a cock before, but it's nice, isn't it? Sort of comforting."
"Sure is, Julie. Lots of 'em around, too."
Their even breathing filled the little motel room. Julie stirred sleepily.
"Lennie ... are you awake?"
"No, hon. What is it?"
"Can I hold your cock in my mouth as we sleep? Please, Lennie?"
Never one to refuse a request from a lady, Lennie eased the end of his dong into her waiting mouth. Sighing contentedly, Julie's mouth closed over his offering as she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
The sound of running bath water cut across Julie's sleep. A distant tinkling sound made her think of a country brook rushing over mossy stones.
She stirred in her half sleep and stretched herself. Her blue eyes fluttered open as she kicked the confining bedclothes off her naked body. Yawning, she lengthened her arms over her head, stretching like some drowsy cat.
The perfect mounds of her young breasts tightened as she flexed her body against the yielding mattress. A muscular shudder caused her to twitch as it played along the length of her slim body and down her firm legs.
The cooling breeze from the air-conditioner ruffled the silky blonde down of her pubic hair over the swell of her pubic mound. The sun poured through the open shade of the window, etching the contours of her figure with a golden corona o: light. The soft flowing undulations of her reclin ing figure looked like a gentle sweep of rounded hills. The sun, backlighting her, helped to further the illusion.
Julie was young, beautiful and full of sperm. It was a good day to be alive.
Her voice had a purr to it as she called to Lennie through the open bathroom door.
"Good morning, lover. What are you doing in there?"
Lennie strode through the door as he answered. His hand was still shaking the drops off his dick after his morning piss.
"Just shaking hands with your breakfast, honey. Want to have a bath before you eat?"
Julie nodded as she slipped off the bed.
"Let's have one together. Could we? It's big enough for both, isn't it?"
Lennie stood beside her, still shaking his cock.
Julie glanced at it. "There's enough of that for everybody. Stop waving it at me until we've had our bath."
Slipping into the bath like a mermaid, she lay back, luxuriating in its warmth as she looked up at him.
"Do you really piss out of that thing? I want to watch the next time you do it."
Lennie stood over her with his prick in his hand.
"You want me to piss all over you?"
Julie considered the offer for a moment before replying.
"I'd rather have you shoot your load. Sperms are groovy. Look what they've done to my hair." With one dripping hand, she held out a matted tangle of locks for Lennie's inspection. "Feel it. Just like a hair-setting lotion, isn't it? The things you can do with love juice. Do you think it'll wash out, or will I have to arrange it in an African natural look?"
"Do what the hell you like with it after I've gone to work. Meanwhile, get your ass over and I'll get in with you."
Obligingly, Julie slid her wet body up until she was sitting with her back against the rear of the tub. The globules of bath oil-scented water glistened on her flushed skin like a million gleaming prisms. The line of the water reached halfway up her floating, buoyant breast. The water lapped at her nipples, concealing and revealing them as the water splashed around her.
Lennie lowered himself into the water facing her. He went into the hot scented water like a sedate water buffalo. His dangling balls touched the water first as he sat down.
"Jee-zus, it's hot!"
"Of course it is, it's a hot bath, stupid. Get in and stop belly-aching. Here, wash my back for me.
Lennie got to his knees and took the soap out of the dish as Julie knelt over on her knees in front of him.
Reaching across her, Lennie rubbed the soap into a lather on the supple skin of her arched back, allowing his hands to slide sensuously in a long sweeping caress until he was cupping her pendulous breasts in his lathered hands. The hot, scented water lapped around their crouching legs as Julie squirmed and writhed to the stimulation of Lennie's massage on her breasts. Her nipples, hard as ripe berries, slipped through his tweaking fingers as they pulled at the soapy, lubricated, erect flesh. The firm-toned mounds of her slithering tits rippled through the pressure of his clutching working hands; like two fish.
Every detail of the muscles and soft fatty tissue seemed to have a glorious independent life of its own as it slipped under his soapy moving hands.
Backing towards Lennie in the height of her stimulation, Julie worked her hot soapy ass into Lennie's lap. Her small, rounded body fitted against his, contour to contour, in primitive abandon.
The water, heat and doglike animal position seemed to awaken some deep primeval instinct in both of them. Some ancient-rooted desire went back over eons of time, back to some distant reptilian ancestors mating in the hot mud of creation.
Julie moaned and snuggled closer to the bulk of Lennie's hairy body. Her hot, soapy ass writhed against the hard stiffness of his red dong.
An animal grunt rumbled from the depth of Lennie's panting chest.
"Christ, baby. What you do to me! I'll shoot my load all over your ass if you keep that up."
Like a bitch in heat, Julie continued the frantic movement of her gyrating rear. Deaf to his words, blind to everything except the stimulation of Lennie's tweaking fingers upon her aroused erect tits, Julie existed in a rose red passionate world of her own sensation.
Lennie's voice came to her through a hazy, blood pounding barrier of sexuality.
"You like it on your tits, huh? It does things to you, doesn't it?"
Julie's voice was dreamy and distant. "Oh yes, yes, more. Touch my tits with your prick. It's so hard. Rub it over them."
Quickly, she turned to face him. The scented water splashed over both of them, like a breaking wave as she turned.
Grasping the hardness of Lennie's soapy prick, she pressed it to her tits. Closing her eyes, she ndoned herself to the sensation of his muscled manhood as it slid across the softness of her smooth, lathered breasts. Holding them firm with one hand, she guided the pulsating prick towards the nippled center of her breast in a circularly caressing movement.
Finding its goal, the sensitive vinegar string under Lennie's tool responded to the touch of the erect nipple as it slid from side to side under the guidance of Julie's fingers.
Lennie's hands worked their way down along her soap-slick stomach. Her lathered pubic hair slipped through his searching fingers as he pushed his way in between her open legs.
The hot, slippery pussy twitched as he ran his palm along its yielding length. The lips of her vulva were like greased, oily rubber as they slid through his stroking fingers.
Taking the entire soapy area of her pulsating cunt in the palm of his hand, Lennie massaged it in a constant movement. As he pressed, his soapy hand opened the protecting petals of her cunt lips until he was stimulating the slippery red flesh of her love meat. The protruding pod of her clitoris was like a small rubber bean as it squirmed between his manipulating fingers.
Cupping her boobs in her hands, she squeezed them around the head of Lennie's prick. The heels of her palms pressed against the base of her swollen breasts. She crossed her fingers, locking them around the back of the erect prick, clutching it close to her beating heart.
Hugging the stiff prick before her like a huge carved doll, she worked her clutched tits up and down along its soapy length. Faster and faster, she slid the slick flesh of her boobs against Lennie's captive dong.
The effectiveness of Lennie's stimulation of her clitoris was demonstrated in the speed of her bouncing boobies, matching his rapid rhythm.
As she pushed the soapy mass of her yielding breast onto the hardness of Lennie's massive tool, the iron-hard dong buried itself into her softness until only the blood-suffused head hammered itself free on the upstrokes.
Her head sank lower and lower in the fatigue of her excitement until it was only inches away from the tip of the prick she was nursing in her hands.
Fascinated, she watched the repeated emergence of the stiff intruder from the bubbles that had formed in the crease of her lathered tits.
The crown of her semen-matted hair rested against Lennie's chest, muffling her cry as his questing, rubbing fingers drove her to greater frenzies.
Her sharp exclamations of pleasure changed to a low sobbing moan as she discharged her excruciating climax into the palm of Lennie's revolving hand.
As her head sank lower, Lennie's passion broke in the relief of his exploding balls.
"I'm coming, Julie. I'm coming."
"Don't waste them. Don't waste them." The words came from Julie's open mouth as she widened it to receive the discharge of Lennie's spurting cannon.
Surely and squarely, the hot, white semen spattered onto her extended tongue and into her receptive hungry mouth. She swallowed like a contented cat with the cream and slid down into the scented bubbles of the bath water.
"That," she pronounced, "was the grooviest bath I've ever had. I'll bet I've got the cleanest boobs in the world."
The water gurgled into the overflow pipe as Lennie lowered his hairy bulk into the bath. "Just holler the next time they feel dirty. I'm always ready to oblige. 'Cleanliness above all things,' is my motto."
Reaching for a towel on the rail behind her, Julie stood up and stepped over Lennie's head. With one foot raised on the edge of the bath, she carefully dried between her toes, while her stretched twat winked pinkly down on him. Little rivulets of water ran along her rounded stomach, channeling into the clefts of her thighs and coalescing into gleaming gems on the individual hairs of her blonde pubic mass. Each hair collected a little stream of water that grew into a sparkling point of light swelling and becoming pearshaped before dropping into the water near Lennie's head.
Stepping out of the bath, she toweled herself dry. Her breasts swayed from side to side as she drew the toweling across her bent back.
Looking into the mirror over the hand basin, she caught sight of her sperm-stuck hair.
"Christ, I'm gonna have to do something with this mop today. What time do you have to be out for?"
Lennie leaped from the bath, electrified.
"Now you've ruined my whole day. I'd forgotten all about work. Get your hot little hands busy in the kitchen while I shave. I've an appointment at ten near Second and Main." A note of query came into his voice. "You can cook as well as suck, can't you? You seem to be able to live on cock juice, but I'm a bacon and eggs man myself."
Julie nodded eagerly.
"Got a diploma in my junior high cooking class. Do you think you've got the strength to raise a fork full of food to your mouth?" Reaching behind the bathroom door, she took down a nylon shirt of Lennie's that was hanging there. "Don't have a dressing robe. Guess I'll have to make do with this.
How does it look?" she asked, posing provocatively.
Lennie eyed her through his shaving soap. "You're not going to dance. What the hell does it matter how you look? Cook, baby. Cook."
Julie's flesh glowed through the fabric as she passed through the sunlit living room on the way to the kitchen.
Lennie's voice followed her through the door. "You look fine. Just fine. It suits you ... Is that goddamn bacon sizzling yet?"
Bustling about in the strange kitchen, Julie hunted for the food and the utensils to cook it in. Reaching up into a high cupboard for the flour, the plump cheeks of her ass showed momentarily from under the raised shirt.
"I'll have a slice of that, rare, and two eggs, sunny sideup, please," Lennie bellowed at her from the bathroom.
Bending over, she spread the cheeks of her ass, exposing the meat of her twat.
"Fancy a mouthful of this, raw, instead?"
"If breakfast isn't on the table by the time I'm ready," Lennie hollered back, "I'll have your tits on toast! Get cracking."
Minutes later, the gut-satisfying smell of perking coffee and frying bacon brought Lennie from the bathroom "Boy, that smells good." He rubbed his hands together approvingly and drew a chair into the table.
Julie sat at the opposite end of the formica-topped table in the breakfast nook. Her young face was flushed from cooking. She looked at him demurely from over the whiteness of her borrowed shirt.
As Lennie munched on the crisp bacon, he couldn't help but contrast the seeming innocence and domesticity of the girl in front of him, with the squirming abandon of the passionate woman, who had flipped him off in the bath a few short minutes before. This was perfection ... like living in a harem, with a French chef to do the catering when you got tired of box lunches.
Wiping his lips, Lennie reached into his back pocket and pulled out his billfold. "You're alright, kid. Here's twenty bucks. Get your hair done, or something. Don't worry about those shoes. I'll have something laid on for you by tonight."
Putting his wallet away again, he consoled himself with the thought, "What the hell. Twenty bucks and I've had three blow jobs, a soapy tit roll, and a fuckin' good time in her armpits." Struggling into his jacket, he recounted. "Or didn't I get around to the armpits yet? Oh well, there's always tonight. And my credit's still good."
He turned as he got to the front door.
"Bye honey. See you tonight. Rest up all you can. We're going to be busy."
Closing the front door behind him Lennie strode out to his parked car. His balls hung loose and empty; a raw knob in his trousers. But he had a happy grin upon his face, as though he was the most exhausted man in California and proud of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Julie sighed contentedly as the front door closed with a resolute, guarding click. She found it hard to believe that only last night she had arrived in this bustling, neon-lit city of hard-faced strangers.
Now she was sitting in a kitchen, surrounded by chromium-plated gadgets that they could never afford back home, despite years of scrimping and saving from her father's miserable factory pay checks. And to think that she had half believed that crap they handed her about virtue and hard work. Brother, the bullshit they put into a kid's head! But she'd had a hot cock in her. She was beginning to learn about life the hard way-the hard, hot cock way. And she had learned more in one night than she would have learned in years in Iowa.
She had learned to know the feeling of domination that a pounding prick leaves behind. In one passionate, sperm-bathed night, she had discovered the supplicant prostration that lies dormant inside every woman. She had found that she could gloat over that tremendous sense of power which surged through her as she felt Lennie's huge penis explode in her mouth against her flickering tongue. But most of all, she had learned to know the satisfaction of coming alone and literally naked into a situation, yet being able to control it and gain from it.
She thought she'd give it a whirl with Lennie for a while, then maybe go on to school, or meet some of the interesting people, who led such fascinating lives in the big city. She had read about them in the magazines. There were writers, college students, actors and hippies who did their own thing in defiance of stupid, outworn standards. She remembered seeing them last night as Lennie drove her down Sunset Strip on their way to the motel. The sidewalk had overflowed with the mass of jostling, purposeful people, all with that elusive, assured look of successfully doing their own thing. She wanted to go down there to speak to these people, to find out where it was at and to get directions to the swinging, now, center of total experience.
But first of all, she decided to do the dishes and tidy up a little. She shuddered as she thought of what the bedroom would be like after their nightlong tussle.
"If the sheets are like my hair, they'll be stiff as cardboard. Shouldn't be though; I managed to swallow most of it!"
Carrying the dishes to the sink, she murmured, "I'd better check in the bathroom cabinet and see whether Lennie has any shampoo. Then maybe see how much food is in the fridge as well."
Despite Lennie's speculation, she doubted whether she could keep her strength up on a diet of straight sperm.
Humming to herself, she scraped the remaining food off the breakfast plates and down the garbage disposal. It was easy; no more having to carry smelly trash cans out to the back of a fly infested house in her home town.
Reaching across the sink, she found the garbage disposal switch nestled among a battery of electric mixers, toasters and juicers. The low hum of the garbage disposal unit accompanied her as she worked around the kitchen. Taking the dishes out of the dishwasher, she carefully stacked them away in the cupboard.
Approvingly, she looked around her. Everything was neat. One day she hoped to have a kitchen like this. She'd really cook in a place like this. Put up some nice curtains and maybe a shelf over there by the electric range for cooking books. Perhaps she could forget this culture jag and find some nice guy, preferably with a few bucks, and settle down somewhere.
Smoothing the nylon shirt down around her curved hips, she thought she'd make a good wife for some guy. She was good-looking. She could cook, and she was certainly finding her way about in bed.
As she went about straightening up the little place, a warm tingle ran through her stomach as she thought about marriage. She'd like the responsibility of acceptance and looking after a home and a man of her own.
AND THEN SHE WOULD GET LAID. A hot stiff prick would probe into the moist depths of her vagina. Hard and masculine, it would satisfy her beyond the puny explorations of fingers when she inserted them into her slick, longing slit. Blow jobs and finger fucking were all right in their way ...
She decided to wait until she had learned all there was to know from Lennie; then find a guy who could teach her more. She wanted someone who could tell her about art, philosophy, the theater, books, everything. And most of all, she wanted a guy who had a good hard prick to drive the lessons home with.
She stood dreaming in the center of the room, surrendering herself to the thought of what her new life was going to be like.
The distant roar of the traffic brought her back to reality. She was here; here in Los Angeles. And this wasn't the time or the place for daydreaming. She had to get the finger out of her ass and get cracking.
Running her hands through her come-matted hair, she walked into the bathroom. Filling the porcelain hand basin with water, she rummaged through the bathroom cabinet. Her luck was in. On the top shelf there was a bottle of hair shampoo.
Slipping off her nylon shirt, she plunged her head into the basin of hot water. Her silky blonde hair spread out, filling the basin, and floating like a trailing blonde sea plant in the white shell of the basin.
Immersing her head further into the water, her bare breasts pressed against the cold rim of the china basin, squashing them tight against her chest. Withdrawing her head, she rubbed the foaming shampoo into her hair, massaging the scalp with her fingers.
Her naked tits swayed with her exertions and brushed against the cold rim of the bowl. With every chilling touch, the pink buds of her nipples slowly hardened to a puckering point. Changing color, they went from pink through red to a deep chocolate brown.
Julie caught sight of herself in the mirror.
"Just look at that," she muttered. "Ninety-year-old nipples." Twitching them with her finger, she pulled them back into shape. "Must give them another treatment with Dr. Lennie's anti-wrinkle lotion tonight. I'm getting old before my time."
From the kitchen, came the sharp ring of an electric bell. Piling her shampoo-lathered hair on top of her head, Julie rushed into the kitchen to investigate. Her slim, naked body dripped with water as she crossed the sunlit living room.
All was quiet in the kitchen as she padded about checking the various electric appliances. The water ran down her legs, leaving a wet imprint of her feet on the tiled floor.
"Goddamn it, I'm imagining things, " she muttered angrily as she walked by the living room window to the bathroom.
A tapping noise came to her from the glass.
Bathed in a shaft of sunlight, she turned to face the noise. A man's face beamed at her through the glass. His eyes traveled down the length of her nakedly exposed body like a warm caress.
Nodding and smiling again, he pointed at the door. "Open up, lady. I'm from the Water & Power Company."
Covering her tits with both hands, Julie rushed into the bathroom for the nylon shirt she had been wearing. Buttoning it up carefully, she opened the door.
"Sorry if I startled you, lady. I've got to check on a line drop. Can I come in?"
Standing aside, Julie felt the hard manliness of him as he brushed passed her.
"Fuses are in the kitchen, aren't they?" He looked at her white-lathered hair piled up on her head. "Say, don't let me stop you. You look as if you're busy."
Thankfully, Julie turned to leave. Already she was conscious of his eyes seeking out the roundness of her body through the thin, transparent nylon shirt. The water from her hair had run down her shoulders. One large area by her left breast was clinging to her flesh, molding the thrusting outline of her boob and revealing the red button of her hard nipple.
She could feel his eye pressing on it like a poking finger. Fighting back her feeling of discomfort, she thought, "What the hell, I'm a grown woman now. This guy is probably married and used to seeing his wife with her hair like this."
Turning to the bathroom, she smiled over her shoulder at him.
"Find your own way about. I'm going to finish my hair. Shout real loud if you want anything. I'll have the water running."
Pushing the door to with her foot, she slipped off the shirt and ran some water into the basin to rinse the drying soap out of her hair.
She laughed to herself as she ran the water through her hair, thinking how easy it is to control a situation. All she needed was the maturity and confidence to treat people in the right way. Letting them see that she was a person in her own right; they usually responded along the lines she laid down. Wrapping the towel around her head, she carried her thoughts further. Could she really control a situation? Could she actually make someone do as she wished, and not as they did?
This guy had seen her standing naked as he looked through the living room window. After having an eyeful of her body, he'd have a hard-on that he'd want to bury in her cunt. It would be a battle of wits to see if she could avoid it. If things got out of hand, she could always blow him and see if she was as good as Lennie said she was at a head job. She should test her ability.
As she stood rubbing her hair, she became conscious of someone's deep, labored breathing coming from the door behind her. Humming to herself as if she had not heard it, she casually adjusted the mirror on the cabinet door until it reflected the bathroom behind her. Sure enough, framed in the one-inch crack of the partially closed door, one beady eye stared resolutely at the split of her rounded ass.
Right, she thought, I'll give this guy something to look at.
Taking a cloth, she bent over the bath and started rubbing away at the greasy ring left after Lennie and she had stepped out of the water earlier.
Stooping over as she was, the raised lips of her cunt peeled back slightly to expose the petal-like folds of her cunt. Still singing, as if unaware of him she idly put her hand behind. With one finger, she delicately raised the outer lip with its soft covering of silky golden fuzz. Sliding her finger in further, she massaged the entrance to her tight vaginal opening as if it were itchy.
A tingle of excitement traveled down her thighs as she heard the sharp intake of his breath and felt his eyes following her finger as it traced a passage among the convolutions of her cunt.
"Give him a couple of minutes of this," she thought, "and he'll be jumping up and down like a chimpanzee."
Straightening up for a moment, she glanced into cabinet mirror. Clearly visible through the crack, the man was down on his knees. His eyes licked over her body as his hands jerked along the length of a huge twelve-inch circumcised staff. The song died away in Julie's throat as she watched in amazement. Never before in her young life had she seen anything like this. She had thought Lennie's tool was big, but this beat it by a good four inches. On top of that, Lennie had a foreskin that she had to peel back before she could start licking at the rich red meat of his knob. This staff, though, was marvelous. It was all prick, every inch of the way. Without any superfluous flesh to get in the way, nothing could impede the action.
A shudder ran up Julie's back as she wondered what a rod that size would feel like slipping into her twat. The challenge of trying to get her mouth around it boggled her imagination.
Still with her back towards him she reached for the nylon shirt and called out to him as she slipped it on over her shoulders.
"Are you still about? Anything you want?" She chuckled to herself as she heard the frantic rush of his feet back to the kitchen before he replied.
"No, ma'am. I've got everything in hand."
Julie stifled a laugh and said to herself, I'll say he has. I saw him with it, and I'll have hold of it myself in a minute or two.
Scooping up a handful of water from under the running tap, she patted it onto the nylon covering her breasts. Soaking into a rapidly increasing circle, the damp nylon became crystal clear as it clung to the shape of her knockers.
Rubbing her nipples a little to arouse them into firm erection, Julie stepped out through the bathroom door.
"Hi there. How are you doing?"
The man's back was toward her as he frantically tried to thrust his huge hairy dong into his tight jeans and pull up the zipper.
"Finished in a moment, lady. Just a minute."
Julie smiled innocently at him as if she was unaware of what he was doing. Brushing her long, wet hair behind her so as not to conceal the front of her tit-revealing shirt, she waited for him to turn around.
"There's no rush. Have you time for a cup of coffee before you go?"
Turning around, the man nodded his head. As he did so, his eyes caught sight of her tits through her soaking wet shirt. The roseate flesh of her protruding nipples shone through the wet fabric like delicate hothouse flowers under glass.
He moistened his lips automatically at the sight of such tasty morsels. Pulling a chair from under the table, he sat down weakly.
Just look at those mother's, he thought to himself. I'll sure have something to tell the boys in the bar tonight!
Normally he made up stories to fulfill the role that his job had created. Most of the fellows he knew were stuck in jobs between four walls. Their only feminine company for eight hours a day was the unlikely drawings on shithouse walls. But his job took him into the homes of all kinds of women -bored housewives, frustrated spinsters-who, in the expectations of his friends, were all down on their knees, pleading with him to drag them off to bed. Obligingly, he had furthered the myth, placing himself in the title role of stories he read in the pulp sex magazines.
Now, at last, it was happening to him and he was doubtful if he could go through with it. Talking about it was one thing, but he didn't know how the hell to go about it now that he'd got a young chick in front of him who looked as if she didn't know her tits were showing through her shirt. But he was wondering what would happen if he did get her into the hay and couldn't get a hard-on. He thought of the embarrassment of slopping his prick around the outside of her cunt like a handful of dead fish. It would be enough to traumatize a man for the rest of his life.
Julie's voice came to him again through his thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders like a man about to meet his fate at the hands of a firing squad.
His first words came in a falsetto. "Pardon, lady." He cleared his throat and tried again in a deeper, more masculine key. "I've got things on my mind. I didn't hear you."
Julie leaned over him. Holding the coffee jug in her hand, her shirt had fallen open and one delicious pink-tipped tit brushed his ear playfully.
"I said would you like a cup of coffee." She shook her head impatiently. She was beginning to wonder what kind of a moron she had picked to try her wits on. The thought raced through her mind that while nature had certainly endowed this man with a king-size dick, there must not have been much leftover when his brains were being formed.
But goaded beyond endurance by the tit that was tickling his ear, he made an. awkward grab for it as a man would for an irritating fly.
His bent arm swept across the table, sending the scalding cup of coffee crashing into his lap. His agonizing cry ripped through the kitchen as he leaped to his feet. Clutching at his jeans, he tried to pull the scalding, saturated material from his tender aching balls.
Julie's concern was belied by the sound of glee as she spoke over his cries of pain.
"Take 'em off. Take 'em off before it soaks through and ruins you."
The thought of that beautiful, massive chopper being incapacitated horrified her. Kneeling down, she suited her actions to her words and began to undo his thick masculine-looking leather belt, With a quick pull, she loosened the buckle and his trousers fell around his knees.
"Your jockey shorts. Look at them. They're soaked right through! Take them off this minute."
Hooking her fingers into the elastic top, she soon had them around his ankles with his trousers.
"Lift your feet out of them while I put them up to dry," she commanded. The emergency had temporarily driven all thoughts of her original intention out of her mind.
As she spoke, she raised her head to see what damage had been done to his manhood. Inches away from her inexperienced eyes dangled the hugest hairy chopper that she had ever imagined possible.
The purplish-red tip stood out in sharp contrast to the blue-veined white flesh of the rest of his coffee-soaked prong. Tentatively, she touched the head with a questioning finger.
�"Is it always this color?" Julie asked solicitously.
The man pulled his sweat shirt up and looked at his tool.
"Only when I dip it in scalding coffee," he replied.
Julie made a clucking noise with her tongue.
"Better put something on to soothe it," she advised. "It looks red raw." She thought for a moment "I know. Butter is good for burns. There's max on the table beside you. Pass it over."
Her fingers made sharp tracks along the surface of the butter as she gouged it into her hands.
"Let me know if I hurt you," she said softly as she tenderly smeared the end of his rapidly hardening dick. "There, how does that feel?"
A low moan came from the man as if he were still in pain.
"Could you sort of rub it in slowly with an up and down movement?" he begged.
Unable to resist the suffering man's plea, Julie closed her fingers around his dong and let the muscled length of it slide through her buttered hands.
"Ohhhhh," he shuddered. "That feels ... feels better. Work more on the red part at the top. That's where it needs it."
Obligingly, Julie slipped her soft hand back along his staff and clutching the base firmly with her one hand, she rubbed the butter onto the hugely swollen head with the other.
By now the monstrous dong had shuddered into its full awesome length and Julie was having difficulty controlling its convulsions in her slippery, buttery hands.
Wrapping both her hands around his prick, as if it were some fleshy baseball bat, she let it snake through the circle of her hands. The upper hand, with its enclosed finger and thumb, opened and shut over the proud red head on every sweep. The ridge of the circumcised knob fascinated her as it slipped through her greasy grasp.
As it passed over her hands, she could feel it| sliding into place among the separations of her fingers. It was a groovy feeling, like running her hand along the spine of some strange and terrifying animal.
As she squeezed the oily member in a milking motion, a crystal clear drop of emission oozed from it and glistened on the butter-coated red flesh.
Cooing with delight, Julie pointed her tongue and bent her head forward. Dipping the end of her dainty tongue into it, she withdrew his fluid into her mouth. The lubricating juice stretched in a long silvery strand from his dong and glistened on the tip of her pointed tongue.
"Oh, isn't it beautiful?" There was ecstasy in Julie's voice as she spoke.
His voice fell on the back of her head as she bent over to lick more of the secretion from his dripping tool.
"You like the taste of that stuff?"
"Yes," Julie replied, still licking. "It's a bit battery, though."
Why don't you put some jam on it then?" was the helpful reply from above her.
He passed down a jar from the breakfast table, unscrewing the lid as he handed it to her.
Holding the jar upside down, Julie tried to stick 'las bulging prick into its neck. "It won't fit," she wailed.
"Try smearing it on with a spoon," his voice was inpatient with frustration.
Beaching up with her free hand, Julie fumbled the table above her. "For Christ sake, here." He pushed one toward her.
Digging deeply into the jar, Julie smeared a heaping spoonful on the top of his dong like an ice sundae.
Don't be chicken-shit about it," he demanded, some more on. Have a feast." Scooping the rich strawberry preserve out of the Julie spread it along the length of his prick. The passionate heat of his erection slowly melted the jam, making it run in streaks that matted into his thick black pubic hair.
Julie ran her tongue along the jam-daubed length of his throbbing muscle.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, tastes yummy," she said, licking her sticky lips contentedly, Settling down to a mid-morning snack like she had never had before, Julie started at the hairy base and slowly worked her way up to the fleshy, sensitive head. Her little white teeth nibbled at the jam-soaked skin while she tenderly went into every sweet fold of tissue. With a happy sigh, she occasionally paused to allow her tongue to concentrate at some particularly juicy morsel.
Her breath came through her nostrils in short, rapid snorts of pure delight. The groans of pleasure that came from this guy demonstrated the efficacy of her ministrations upon his erect and tender member. She knew that if his reaction was enthusiastic while she was nibbling on the white meat, his response would be convulsive as she started on the red meat.
He seized her head in both of his huge work-hardened hands. Holding her head in a vise-like grip, he forced her to concentrate on the nerve endings at the tender tip of his tool.
Gauging her effort by his moans of pleasure, her tongue slid over the underside while her lips pouted and pulled, fastening themselves around the fascinating ridge where his velvety head joined the hard muscle of his staff.
Being experienced in her art after much practice with Lennie, she recognized the convulsive twitching that shot through his trembling body as heralding his explosive release.
She was able to prepare herself for the flood of viscous creamy semen as it flooded into her waiting, hungry mouth. The sweetness of the jam gave piquancy to the tangy taste of his semen. The oiliness of the lubricating butter made the jism slipped down her throat with ease; rather like swallowing a fresh oyster.
Julie patted his now limp dong with a piece of paper toweling and looked up at him questioningly.
"How does it feel now, mister?"
His face split into a grin of utter completion.
"You don't get treatment like that at the Kaiser. Knew a guy that got a snake bite on his dong while out hunting."
Julie stood up. "What happened to him?" Julie asked.
"He died," the guy said. "His pal wouldn't suck out the poison. Next time I go hunting, I'm taking a chick like you along for insurance. There's lots of snakes in California."
He struggled into his pants and made for the "Got to get a move on. I'm behindhand already, Many more customers like you and I'll be on over-time."
The door shut behind him, and Julie was left to consider what she had got out of that situation. The encounter hadn't quite gone along the lines that she had intended, but she had discovered that she could arise to an emergency when it occurred. The way she had slapped butter on his scalding prick was almost professional. She had kept her head yet given head, too. She had managed to turn what would have been a very painful accident for the poor man, into one that seemed to make him forget it had ever happened. She had enjoyed it, too. Apart from the feeling of doing the right thing at the right time, she had learned that there was practically no end to the variations she could give to a blow job.
And she remembered, smacking her still sticky lips, that the jam on his dick tasted out of this world. She especially liked the way his salty climax gushed over her sweetened taste buds. One of these days she was going to have someone slip a cock of that length into her. Then she would know how it feels to have a hot prick bathing the neck of her cunt with its flow of jism.
But right now, she felt tired. Yawning, she searched through the place for something to read. On one of the shelves of the Hollywood-styled head board, she found a little store of paperbacks. Selecting one by its lurid, descriptive cover, she lay back on the bed to read.
As she turned the pages, she became fascinated by the story.
Author Kipp Cameron told of his many years in motion pictures and how many of the stars, that she knew by name, had reached the top of their profession, not by talent, but by doing the same thing that she had been doing free since she had arrived in Los Angeles. As Kipp said, "It's not what you know in this game. It's who you blow."
"Maybe," Julie thought idly, "I should quit this idea of a meaningful cultural experience and start blowing directors instead."
Her thoughts became sluggish as sleep overcame her. Her dreaming mind, free of conscious restrictions, ran riot as she tossed on the bed.
Her sleep became peopled with fantasized situations. Flooding into her brain, her name appeared in a million flashing lights over a theater. Then disintegrating, it burst into a exploding climax of sperms. Each light bulb became sperm with a huge thrashing tail, that wriggled its way into her open mouth, choking her. Despite her fear, she had to keep her mouth open, because if she bit down on one of the glass-headed sperm, it would shattered and her fame would disappear forever with the broken tinkling shards of glass.
Scene after tortured scene tumbled through her sleeping mind.
In another dream, she was lying on a fantastic gilded bed, surrounded by luxury. An actor dressed like a sultan, held a huge two-foot penis [in front of him. In her dream, she knew that she had to have this enormous cock inside her or she would die. The sultan let her lick it and fondle it. Then with infuriating slowness, he began to rub it along her eager slit. It probed among the sensitive vulva and prodded her swollen clit until she was crazy with desire. Then, just as he was going to slip the whole satisfying length of it inside her, the director would shout, "Cut!" Then another actor, wearing a black mask, led the sultan over to a corner of the set, which was rigged up like a dungeon. Putting the head of the sultan's prick on a scooped out chopping block, the man with the mask looked over to the director again the director, wreathed in smoke from a cigar he was sucking, nodded his head and shouted, "Cut!" And they'd chop off the head of the sultan's penis with a huge axe. She was just about to make it with the tenth sultan when the sound of voices brought her out of her sleep.
Opening her sleep-glued eyes with an effort, she recognized Lennie standing at the foot of the bed. "Lennie, baby," she crowed with delight. "You're just in time, fuck me." Reaching underneath her, she grabbed both of her legs by the ankles and pulled them up to her head. Her face beamed through the frame of her calves while her ripe young cunt winked up at Lennie invitingly. The love juice from the stimulation of her dreams flowed moistly over the pink-petaled dish that she offered him. Her voice was harsh with desire as she spoke. "Fuck me, it's all yours." Lennie ran his fingers under his collar.
"Well, not just now, honey. We've got company.
Lennie nodded across the room to where a well-built man was watching the proceedings with interest.
His eyes were glued on Julie's inviting slit as he spoke hoarsely.
"Is she always like this when she wakes up?"
"No," Lennie shook his head. "But she's been shut up all day and probably got lonely."
The visitor strode over to the bed and stood there, looking down at Julie.
"Well, honey, you're not going to be lonesome for tonight at least. I'm Richard Hardy. You can call me Dick."
Julie recovered from the surprise and put her legs down.
"Well, hello. I'm Julie Baldwin. If the dreams I've been having are anything to go on, you can call me 'frustrated'."
Dick's eyes traveled over her as she lay on the bed. "We'll work on that, kid. We'll work on that real soon."
Sitting down on the bed beside her, he ran his hand over her boobs. "You know, there's one thing that I like, and that's a willing chick."
Realizing that in the confusion of wakening, she had forgotten that she had no clothes on, Julie pulled a sheet up over her exposed body as Lennie sat down on the other side of the bed.
"Remember us talking about shoes the other night," Lennie said. "Well, Dick, here, is in shoes and he thought maybe you two could do a little trading."
Julie lay back in the bed and looked at the shoe salesman appreciatively. If appearances were anything to go by, this was where the expression! "horse trading" must have come from. Dick was probably hung like a stallion. But how could she get to business? She could hardly start blowing him with Lennie sitting on the bed criticizing her performance like a judge at a dog show.
As if reading her thoughts, Lennie spoke across the bed to his friend.
"There's one or two items she still owes me for as well. Who's going first?"
Julie lay on the bed listening to their exchanges. Her head turned from side to side as each spoke.
Feeling restless and tired of the inactive role she was playing, she suggested, "Why don't you fellows strip off and get into bed? You can continue the discussion in comfort then." In no time at all, they began peeling off their clothes as Julie watched in eager anticipation of what was to come.
She had seen Lennie before. His sagging middle-aged outline was a dead loss compared to Dick -the gorgeous specimen Lennie had brought home with him.
Turning on her side, she concentrated on Dick as he kicked off his shoes impatiently. He took off his League jacket and carefully hung it over the hack of a chair. With maddening precision, he began to unbutton his shirt. As Julie watched, the matted hair from his chest began to poke its way out of the shirt opening. She wanted to reach out and touch his masculinity with her soft hands. Without a doubt, this was the hairiest ape of a man that Julie had ever seen.
Crossing an arm in front of him, he grasped the collar and slipped the shirt off one shoulder. The muscular development of his broad shoulders drew a cry of astonishment from the watching girl. Sensing her approval, Dick smiled at her proudly. "I used to play football," he announced proudly. "I'm a little out of condition now, but I can still go full time in bed." Peeling off his shirt, Dick turned his back toward her. "Get a load of this. How's that for muscular development?"
As he spoke, he tensed his arms, causing the muscles to ripple across his broad back.
"Touch 'em. Feel 'em," he invited. "I'm as hard as nails."
Kneeling up on the bed, Julie placed her hand on his broad back. The animal warmth of him soaked through her palm, sending little shivers of desire through her longing body.
As he flexed his muscles under her touch, Julie had the impression that he held frightening power under his restraining flesh. The muscles bulged and rippled, distorting the covering skin, like some powerful beast with an uncontrollably vibrant life of its own. Her eyes riveted on this fascinating display of beefcake as she watched his covering hairs wave like outstretched feelers demanding her soft flesh.
Turning around to face her, he locked his fingers together under his abdomen, making a U of his arms.
"Watch this now," he said. "You've never seen muscles like these before."
Tensing and relaxing his clenched fingers, the tension ran up his bulging arms and reached the chest muscles. As Julie watched, the cords of his pectorals bulged into life, lifting and contracting! in response to his command. The flesh of his undeveloped masculine tits jumped and trembled in sympathy.
The bed squeaked as Julie jumped up and down with excitement.
"Oh, teach me to do that! I really dig it and it's wasted on you. Think what I could do with my boobies!"
Dick beamed on her approvingly.
"Stand up and I'll show you."
Julie stood upright on the carpet. With her hands over her head, she started to jump up and down. "Look at my knockers. Watch 'em bounce!" Dick shook his head.
"That's kid's stuff. Here, hold still a minute." Taking a nipple firmly between the finger and thumb of each of his hands, he lifted her jutting breasts apart until the nipples were pointing up toward her shoulders.
"When I let go," he instructed her, "then you start bobbing them up and down. Right NOW."
Julie let her heels fall to the floor with a jar. Then she rose quickly up on her toes. As she repeated the motion, she looked down at her bouncing boobies that were gyrating on her chest. To her delight, instead of the previous up and down movement, they were now rotating in perfect circles in apposite directions. A glorious slapping sound, as if in applause, came when they met together in the renter of her chest. "That," Dick assured her, "is something they don't teach you in the boondocks. You'll be great at the PTA fund-raising projects when you get back home."
Laughing, Julie quit her bouncing and stood facing Dick with her hands on her hips.
"Oh ... The things you learn when you left home," she said. "It sure beats going to college."
Admittedly, this latest feat wasn't very mind-blowing, but it would help to pass the evenings when she had nothing better to do. Though, if the last few days were any indication, she wasn't going to have many lonely nights for quite a while.
Still facing her instructor, she put her arms under her stomach as she had seen him do. All right, smartass. Show me the other bit.
The one with the muscles," she demanded of him.
Julie felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Lennie. In his other hand, he waved his hard cock at her.
"What gives with you and Mister Universe here?" Lennie demanded. He pointed his stiff dick. "This, baby, is the only muscle I'm interested in."
Julie's voice was tinged with scorn.
"That about sums you up, man. A prick with ears. No interest in culture. The only thing you care about is sucking and blowing."
"And what," Lennie asked heavily, "is wrong with sucking and blowing? I didn't hear any cries of disappointment coming from you last night."
"Can't you see, Lennie, I'm trying to learn something. When you come up with a new way for me to blow you, let me know. 'Til then, please sit still and watch me learn to wiggle my tits. Alright?"
Lennie sat down heavily, facing them.
"Okay. I'm watching," he told her. "But I'm thinking, too. When I come up with a new way to blow you'd better quit screwing around and make with the mouth."
Julie nodded agreement. Turning on her heels, she faced Dick again. Carefully, Dick took up his stance and started to explain the theory of dynamic tension to his attentive pupil standing bare and naked before him.
After five minutes of instruction, Julie felt that she had enough of the theory and was ready to try the practical applications of her lessons. Grasping her opposite fingers together, she pulled on each hand and while Dick put his fingers on her muscles, running from her full breasts to her armpits.
A cry of success burst from Dick as he felt the unused muscles begin to twitch under his touch.
"You've got it, kid. You're getting there."
Julie increased her efforts as Dick communicated his enthusiasm to her. Taking his hands away, Dick surveyed her efforts critically.
"Just a minute. You're not concentrating," he told her. "You've got to use the mind as well, Think! Think titty!"
He paused and looked into her eyes.
"Are you thinking titty?"
Julie looked down at her stationary knockers.
"I am," she insisted, "but my boobies aren't getting the message."
Dick was full of confidence.
"Try, try, try harder. You gotta practice. Here, let me help a little."
He gently put his hand under each of her tits so that her firm flesh was just resting on his fingers. He patted her tits in time with her flexes, in an upward direction, encouraging movement. Slightly at first, and then with growing momentum, her breasts responded to the combined efforts of Dick's encouraging hand and her flexing muscles. "I've got it. I've got it," Julie cried in delight. "Let go and I'll do it on my own."
Dick took his hands away and watched with pride as Julie's pointed breasts shook up and down with a seeming life of their own. As if by magic, without any other movement of her body, her tits rose and fell with increased rapidity as she gained proficiency in her newfound art. Still bouncing her knockers, Julie strode over to the mirror. Taking up a position before it, she continued her exercise. Her look of exultation gradually left her face as she watched her reflection shimmy in front of her. Turning her head to Dick, who stood right beside her, she said petulantly, "But Dick, they're both going up and down together. Yours go alternately. How come?"
"It's like I said, Julie. What you need is practice. Give it a week and you'll be good enough for amateur night at the Pink' Pussy. Let me know when you're going and I'll come along and give you a big hand."
A snort of exasperation came from the forgotten Lennie.
"What she needs is a big prick, not a big hand." I Holding his stiff joint out to Julie, he beckoned her over to him.
"I'm gonna teach you a few Indian words, would you like that?"
Julie rushed over to him eagerly.
"Oh would you? What's the first one?"
Pointing to his prick, Lennie informed her, "Put this in your mouth and say 'Wally, wally woom-erra'."
Julie eyed the size of his tool. "How can I talk with that in my mouth?" she asked.
Lennie pulled her head down to his lap. "As the man says, what you need is practice. Try, Julie, try."
Dutifully, Julie tried to mouth the words around the stiff obstacle in her mouth. Saliva and mumbled sounds slid down the staff of Lennie's instructive staff.
"Hey, that feels good. Especially the Rs. Say 'Rolls Royce Rapidly'."
Lennie beamed happily as the tensed tongue vibrated on his tool.
Julie eased the throbbing dong out of her mouth and looked up at Lennie.
"How's this for a giggle? What do you say to a sonic blow job. I'll hum. You tell me how it feels."
Leaning over again, Julie enclosed Lennie's prick with her mouth and began to hum softly. Beginning at a high pitch, she gradually lowered the range of her voice until it was like the deep, penetrating sound of a powerful dynamo. The powerful , almost sub-sonic vibrations ran through nerve and tissue of Lennie's prick, stimulating him like a man electrocuted, Dick watched them with a look of unbelieving amazement in his eyes.
"Now I've seen it all," he said as he put his mouth to Julie's ear. "Can you play request numbers on that skin flute?" he asked hopefully. "Give me a few bars of Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head, will you?" Julie slipped the mouthpiece of her instrument from her full, red lips.
"It's not the goddamned raindrops that's my problem," she announced. "It's sperms. Lennie's like a geyser-Old Faithful. He erupts at ten minute intervals. I've only got to look at him and I get a face full of come."
Lennie got to his feet slowly and looked across his friend.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked. "This broad's getting uppity. Let's give her two face fulls."
Motioning, he directed Julie over to the bed. "Lie down on your back. We're a couple of face fuckers from the farm."
Wondering, Julie did as she was told as the two knelt over her. The crossed staffs of their penises loomed menacingly over her head, Lennie broke in on her speculations. "OK baby, grab one in each hand and start twitching."
Reaching up, Julie ran her fingers along this awesome display of massed manhood above her. Holding her palms uppermost, she began to stroke the erect flesh to encourage the discharge of lubricating fluid that she knew would soon emit from the straining head of each rampant penis, close to her eyes as they were, she couldn't help comparing the differences between them. Lennie's tool was now so familiar to her that she could visualize it with her eyes closed. Alongside Dick's rampant probe, it certainly lacked length. Its eight-inch ponderance seemed stunted and sawn off. Though what it lacked in length, it certainly] had in width. It was impossible for her to enclose more than half its circumference with her finger and thumb.
Dick's tool, on the other hand, must have been ad least twelve inches long from the rooted hairy base to the tip of its velvety head. But, there was. she thought, a sort of snakelike quality about it. Its extreme length was accentuated by its seeming thinness. Her fingers fitted around it without any effort, allowing her to feel the completeness of it as it slipped through her hollowed hand.
Despite the feeling of awe that she had experienced when she first saw it, now that she could confine it, encircle it, and have it in her hand, it didn't seem so terrifying as before. The familiarity didn't exactly breed contempt, but enabled her to study it without an overpowering feeling of inadequacy. Being able to get her hands around it made it seem more acceptable somehow.
Pausing for a second in her stroking manipulation, she allowed her fingers to run teasingly through the luxurious growth of pubic hair. She watched her fingers become lost in the thick tangle, and in her imagination, the pinkness of her half-hidden coursing fingers seemed like furtive cats slinking through some lush tropical undergrowth as they pushed forward, parting the hair as they went. The resilience of the springy hairs amazed her as she watched them spring back into place when she withdrew the pressing fingers from them.
Peering closely, she could see the oily dots o blackheads at the roots of the hairs along the base of his prick. Somehow, they made the massive dong more everyday and acceptable, bringing its immensity into an understandable frame of reference. Even the mightiest dong became commonplace if it had an acne problem.
Maybe, she speculated to herself, I could open a clinic for pricks with skin problems. Give a special rate for scalded ones. Julie Baldwin's Salon for Problem Pricks. Man, that's way out.
Abruptly, Dick's insistent voice broke into her reverie.
Stop moaning, will you? You can't blow us both at once, so I'll show you something. Stuff Lennie's limp tool in your mouth and see if you can revive it. I'm going to get some Vaseline from the bathroom. I'll show you how to give a hand job with a difference."
Julie heard his heavy tread as he left the room and went into the bathroom. Taking Lennie's now flaccid member in her hands, she squeezed the base it firmly, forcing the slack meat into a bulging hardness, then fed the end into her warm mouth. The rubbery softness allowed her to push it pound with her tongue in a novel, interesting Banner.
Moving her pouched cheeks, the wet tide of her saliva poured over the limp dong, washing it across the smoothness of her padded tongue. With each caress, she could feel the spasmodic shudder of his penis as the blood rushed to fill the hardening tissue. Slowly the prick hardened and forced her jaws further and further apart until she was no longer in control and able to slosh this rampant monster around in her mouth. Reassuring herself with a methodical steady licking of the pulsating head, she settled down to await Dick's return from the bathroom.
Just perceptible above Lennie's labored breathing, she heard the pad of Dick's returning feet. The bed sagged as he sank to the mattress beside them She felt the coldness of the glass jar of Vaseline against her body as Dick thrust in toward her.
His voice was tense with excitement as he spoke.
"Here, grab a handful, kid, and make a fist like a cunt."
Taking her hands from the base of Lennie's prick, she held his tool lightly between her teeth, allowing the satisfying rhythm of her tongue to continue unchecked.
Reaching down, she found the jar of Vaseline in Dick's waiting hand and scooped the thick lubricating jelly into her palms.
Dick altered his position slightly on the bed, bringing his hard staff within her reach. Cupping her hands, she slipped them around its satisfying hardness and slid them sensuously down the erect tool to grease its probing passage. Holding Dick's prick firmly between her palms, she began a circular, steady sweeping motion, concentrating on the sensitive head. The quick, strangled intake of his breath told her of his satisfaction.
"Take it easy," Dick muttered between his clenched teeth. "Back off a little or I'll shoot my load before I've had time to enjoy it."
Obediently, Julie eased the speed of her manipulation and placed one greasy hand on his balls. Gently, she maneuvered her grasp around them until the spongy nuts slipped through her hands in time with the friction on his knob end.
Julie closed her eyes and surrendered herself fully to the feelings that flooded through her as she listened to the groans of the two tortured men who writhed beside her. She was filled with an overwhelming sense of her own power from these two tough-looking males who were so utterly dependent upon her. She was in complete command.
As an experiment, she allowed her tongue to slow in its steady caress of Lennie's member. Then moving her hand down, she let Dick's oily prick throb unnoticed as she played with his balls. The pleading tone in their voices was like balm to her ego.
Slowly and tantalizingly, she built up the speed of their ministrations until she could almost hear the steam coming out of their ears. Building diem both up to the point of climax, she slowed down again until little whimpers of frustration came from the sweating men in her power.
Really, she thought to herself, it's like conducting an orchestra.
As she controlled the fluctuations of their passions, Julie became aware of the warm flooding desire that was flowing through the pit of her own stomach. Taking hold of Dick's hand, she placed it against her moist and eager love nest.
The soft hair on her outer lips parted under the forceful pressure of his hand, letting his fingers slip into the waiting wetness of her eager slit. A wave of aching desire burst over her. Arching her hips,she rubbed her cunt against his probing finger whilst a grunt of eagerness escaped from her working mouth and vibrated against Lennie's tool. Increasing the fury of her thrusting hips, she heard Dick's voice come to her over a purple sea of sexuality.
"Tell you what," he suggested. "I'll trade you fingers."
Wonderingly, Julie let him take one of her hands, leaving the other free to occupy itself in its manipulation of his swollen joint. She felt herself being guided between his firm, muscular thighs. Her fingers tingled to the touch of his hairy ass as they slipped between his buttocks and rested on the puckered orifice of his anus.
"Stick your finger in," Dick commanded.
The pressure on her wrist forced her greased digit into the sticky warmth of his asshole. With practiced ease, he pushed her searching finger in further until it came into contact with his overworked prostate gland.
"Rub it gently," he pleaded. "But don't stop playing with my prick."
Eagerly accepting this novelty, Julie allowed the surface of Dick's donut-like prostate to slip sensuously along the line of her soft finger. The ring of his ass seemed to hold her finger tight as it grasped her finger firmly at the first joint. His clinging rectum walls contracted spasmodically in time to her strokes on his swollen dong.
As she probed, stroked and sucked, giving of herself to the limit of her every feminine need, she felt the delicious surge of sexual helplessness grow and exceed the initial awakening she had experienced when she had sucked Lennie's prick. That first time, only a few action-packed hours ago, had then seemed to her unawakened senses like the absolute limit of intrusion into her unknowing mind. Now, with two panting men between her, she realized that though she was giving her body, she was not being violated. In their passionate need of her, she in turn was taking from them. In reality it was her seemingly passive flesh that was in control of the erect masculine pricks that were pumping and oozing into her with such throbbing insistence.
She had only to vary the regular tempo of her massaging hands upon Dick, or the steady catlike lap of her tongue around Lennie's mouth-filling member for the truth of her realization to be demonstrated in the agonized moans of frustration that burst from the writhing men.
The deep, mind-blowing sensation flooded her brain. The feeling of calculated giving and surrender, merged with the juicy sensation of receiving as Dick's steadily working finger found and played with her erect clitoris.
In a wriggling, thrusting abandon, she gave herself completely to the waves of emotion that surged through her. The duality of her personality responded in a nerve-tearing ebb and flow to the erotic stimulation she was receiving through her mouth, her hands, her fingers, and through her pulsating love nest.
The awareness of her mind sharpened the sensations that coursed through her vibrating nerves as Dick's revolving finger caused the love juices to secrete and lubricate the folds of her already slick slit. Inevitably, the rising wall of complete sexual fulfillment grew until it completely blocked oat every awareness that tried to intrude into her aroused, abandoned being. Her mind pulsed and beat like the variations of some fantastic psychedelic light display until she cried out with the uncontrollable joy of her submerging senses. Gradually, with a finely drawn intensity, she rode out each successive wave of sexuality. Again and again, she felt that there could be no going beyond the endurance of the crest that she had just surmounted, she paused for one breath. At this shattering moment on the peak of sensation, her palpitating nerves braced themselves for the impossibility of the next towering peak that burst upon her.
Trembling on the utter tip of one nerve taut sensation, she felt the shudder of Lennie's cock as it convulsed in the final agony before discharging its steaming sperms into her tingling mouth.
The scalding eruption of his semen over the taste buds of her sensitive tongue toppled the equilibrium of her tottering control and she slipped down into the final abandon of her own cunt-flooding climax as Lennie's jism slid and wriggled with a million-tailed determination down the membranes of her arched throat. Tightening her lips around his erupting penis, she milked him of every drop of his creamy discharge.
Dick, stimulated by the joint climax that merged in animal abandon beside him, arched his back and, in response to her increased jerking of his beef, spat his excruciating climax through the funnel of her fingers and onto the exposed whiteness of her heaving belly.
Wiping her Vaseline-coated hand on the sheet, Julie scooped up the cooling sperms as they pooled on her stomach. Raising them to her mouth, she dipped her pointed tongue into her cupped palm. She savored the tang of Dick's fresh essence against the slightly earthy taste of Lennie's already swallowed earlier discharge. Moaning in her feverish desire to take all of both men inside her, she tilted her palm and let the oyster of Dick's salty semen slide into her waiting mouth.
Julie cuddled herself close between the supine forms of the two exhausted men. The salty smell of their sweat allowed their spent bodies to slide into a contented sleep of utter repletion, she was conscious of the harsh proximity of their hairy nudity against the soft ripeness of her young body. Sighing, she slipped her hands along their relaxed bodies until she found their limp pricks, soft and spent on the bushy couch of pubic hairs. Curling her comforting hands around them both, she fell asleep listening to their deep, regular breathing.
CHAPTER FIVE
The gray half-light of dawn was penetrating through the closed drapes as Julie awoke. Freeing herself from the tangle of limbs that were trapped around her, she sat up in bed. Dick murmured sleepily and reached out for her. His hand cupped her firm breast as he squeezed the nipple between thumb and first finger.
"Lay down honey," Dick whispered. "It's still be middle of the night."
Julie eased his sleep-weakened fingers from her breast. "You sleep for a little," she answered. "I'm going to put the coffee on and start breakfast. "I'll call you both when it's ready."
Kneeling up, she raised herself and started to crawl over Dick to reach the end of the bed. Her breasts brushed across Dick's stomach sending a soft message to his sleeping brain. Opening his eyes, Dick saw her pink-lipped poised above him.
Putting his fingers in through the cheeks of her ass, he spread her cunt apart until the lips of her vulva opened and the moist morsel peeped out" at him from its surrounding fringe of blonde hair. Leaving his thumbs between the spread cheeks of her ass, he slipped his fingers around her thighs and eased her down onto his face with his grasping hands. Pouting his lips, he sucked noisily at the still wet clit as the flaccid lips engulfed his probing nose.
Julie's breasts flattened against his stomach as she bent over and drew his half-hard prick into her mouth. Slowly, and reluctantly, she allowed it to slip from under her pursed lips.
"Good morning Dick," she said, ruffling his pubic hair. "Thank you for last night. It was the grooviest, farthest out thing I've ever known ... You lie here while I make breakfast."
Dick smacked his lips as she lifted her hot cunt off his face.
"Who needs breakfast? We've just had it." He turned sleepily to watch her as she walked across the bedroom.
"My sample case is by the front door. What size do you take?" Dick asked.
Julie brushed her long hair out of her face as she turned. "Seven and a half or eight if they're tight. Do you have any?"
Dick nodded his head as he lay back on the pillow. "You're in luck kid. There's three or four pairs in the new style that'll fit you. Take 'em all. I don't think I've got the strength to carry them around after last night."
Julie's boobies bounced excitedly as she rushed out to get the suitcase. Dragging it into the kitchen, she slipped open the catch and looked inside. Row upon row of shoes in the fabulous new fashion shades stood lined up and awaiting her choice. In the lid compartment she found a selection in her size as Dick had told her. Arranging them in a line in front of the kitchen chair, she sat down eagerly to try them on. The last's that Dick's firm used seemed to make shoes that fit her feet like gloves. There were five pairs that were way out.
Now, with the clothes that she had got from Lennie and the shoes from Dick, she had a ward-be that would take her anywhere. These and her newfound knowledge of cocksucking, gave her a confidence that she had not got on her arrival just a few short, prick-packed days ago. Leaving on a pair of mod-heeled formals, she tripped about in the kitchen hunting up the food for breakfast. She was unaccustomed to the height of the heels, which tightened the muscles in her slim legs and forced her to stand straight with a firm posture that thrust her breasts forward provocatively Going into the bathroom to brush her hair, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. Putting her arms above her head, she revolved slowly, taking in and analyzing every line and curve of her naked body.
The promise of her ripe, young body would lead her into more exciting adventures. The time was near for her to look a little beyond what men like Lennie and Dick could offer. Time for her to find a greater reward than the salt tang of jism in her mouth.
Humming her way back into the kitchen, she cracked the eggs into the pancake batter. Ignoring the electric mixer, she whipped the mixture rapidly with a big spoon. The loose flesh of her bare body jiggled in time as she concentrated on the bowl she held against her rounded stomach. A few drops of batter splashed out of the bowl and onto her flesh. Still singing to herself, she lifted them up on her finger and transferred them to the edge of the basin.
Placing the mixing bowl beside the cooker to wait until the men were ready for their breakfast, she poured out three cups of coffee. Her heels clicked across the tiled kitchen floor as she went to call the men from the doorway.
"Come on, you two sex freaks! Coffee's on the table. Come and get it."
Lennie mumbled incoherently and pulled the sheets up around his head. Dick opened his red rimmed eyes and stared at her slim white figure.
"Spread yourself out on the table, Julie. I'm coming right in."
"Don't kid yourself," Julie laughed at him. "It would kill you. Come and have some nourishment instead of punishment."
Pointing at Dick's hunched form under the covers, she continued with rising doubt in her voice. "If your friend is still alive, try and drag him into the kitchen."
With a smile, Dick leaned across the double bed and pulled the covers off the sleeping body as it lay curled and contented among the tangle of sheets. Dick rolled over onto his back with a seraphic smile across his face.
"If he's dead, at least he died happy," Dick smiled. "Just look at that grin. What a way to go."
Taking Lennie's shoulder in his hands, Dick shook him vigorously. Lennie's head rolled from side to side like a rag doll and a low bubbling sound came from his throat.
Dick beckoned Julie over to the side of the bed. "This calls for emergency treatment," he whispered. "Put your pussy under his nose like you did to me when you got up. The smell of a ripe, young cunt first thing in the morning would bring life to an Egyptian mummy. I'll guarantee the result." Giggling, Julie eased herself onto the bed and straddled Lennie's face with her thighs. Gradually, inch by inch, she lowered her damp slit onto the slackly snoring mouth below her. Closer and closer she moved until Lennie's exhaled breath ruffled the blonde fringe of her twat hair, Carefully, she closed the gap until the lips of her vulva came in contact with Lennie's open mouth. The frantic snort of his awakening vibrated through her covering cunt. "Jesus Christ," he bellowed as he pushed her away from him. "Don't ever do that again. I was having a dream that I was being eaten alive by a great hairy twat and that thing clamps over my face. I thought it had got me at last. What a bummer!"
Julie fell across the bed, laughing. Her face ended up in the crook of his arm. With a sniff of disgust, she raised her head.
"By the smell of your armpits," she said, "I'd say you already had. For Christ's sake, take a shower, will you?"
She swung herself off the bed disgustedly, leaving Lennie with the alternations of her rounded buttocks as she followed Dick into the kitchen. With an effort, Lennie eased himself out of bed and stood upright on the floor. He scratched his balls as he yawned a reply back at them. "Alright, alright. Don't spoil a pleasant dream.
"Pour me out some coffee while I go for a shit. I'll be right back."
Padding across to the toilet, Lennie stood swaying in front of the bowl as the piss poured from him in a long golden arc. Bending his legs slightly, he pressed down on his stomach muscles and felt a long rippling fart tear from the confines of his ass.
"Arrrrr," he said satisfied. "That feels better."
Closing the open door of the bathroom cabinet, he surveyed his face in the mirror.
"A few more nights like the last two," he told himself, "and I'll be ready for Social Security."
Shaking the drops off his dangling dong, he made for the kitchen. A tantalizing smell of coffee greeted him as he opened the door.
"Hey, what's happening?" he asked as he sat at the table.
Julie smiled back at him. "Want some coffee?"
She leaned across the table to reach the percolator. Her arms and body made an inverted vee while the pointed perfection of her breasts jutted out at an open angle. Momentarily, her pink nipples swept across the coldness of the Formica table top. Imperceptibly, the flat pink cap shrunk and hardened until her flesh became puckered like two firm round fruits. The plastic seat of the chair sighed as she sat down again. Her bare buttocks stuck to the seat.
Lennie tore his gaze away form the contrast of her soft young body against the angularity of the modern kitchen furniture. Looking across to Dick, he asked, "What time is your first call? Not that I'm being inhospitable and want to throw you out or anything. But if you have any ideas about waiting until I leave and then eating cunt all day, cool it. I want a little left for my supper when I get back tonight. That's all."
In turn, Dick broke off his contemplation of Julie's thrusting white form and turned to Lennie with a look of injured innocence.
"Look it, Lennie, it's a good thing I stayed here and helped burn up a little of this chick's energy. You look like you only have a couple more ejaculations left in you. And you need those to hold you together. Look at yourself, will you? If you sneezed your nuts would rattle and your arms would fall off. Yes, I'd be doing you a favor. In a spirit of pure brotherly love, I may just take the day off."
Lennie put down his cup of coffee and glared at him. "Like fuck you will. The terms are strictly blow and go ... come and run. I don't mind a friend having a little nibble, but Julie's my meat and I'll do the eating. Okay?"
Julie sat listening to the dialog. As the exchange faltered, she broke in.
"Why don't one of you ask me what I want to do for a change. If you think I'm going to be a head cook and cocksucker all night, then stay here all day and wash the come stains out of the carpet, for-. get it. I can find such pricks in Iowa. I came to Los Angeles to get some action. I'm going to look around today and see where it's at. I'm going to see something and meet people. I'm going to shoot the shit and find out what it's all about." She turned to Lennie as he sat crestfallen. "I'm not knocking you, Lennie." She reached over and took his hand. "You're an alright guy. But I'd be screwing without you. Remember what you told me when we were in that cafe? Alright, we both traded. Apart from that, you taught me a lot. Thank you."
She turned her gaze to Dick for a moment. "Say, that bit with the asshole is out of sight. Just think, every time I stick my finger up someone's ass, I'll remember you. Doesn't that make you feel good?"
Dick sat watching her lips as she talked. "Would you dig to gnaw on my bone for breakfast?" Dick asked hopefully with a grin on his face.
Julie pushed her chair back and stood up. "Talking about eating," she announced, "I'm going to make some breakfast. You know, the old-fashioned sort you eat with a knife and fork. Do you think you two sex fiends can remember that far back?"
The two faces opposite to her lit up. "What can you make?" Lennie asked. "Well," she told him. "I've got some pancakes coming up."
Dick beamed back at her.
"Next to cunt, pancakes are my favorite breakfast food."
Julie went over to the stove and picked up the batter bowl which she had left there previously.
"You guys lay the table, will you, while I do the cooking."
As she put the pan on the burner, she heard the guys bustling about behind her. With the clatter of cups and the metallic rattle of the cutlery, they scurried about in the kitchen.
Pouring the batter into the hot fat at the bottom of the pan, she watched it as it slowly spread into a golden, bubbling circle. The sound of the guys laughing came to her above the sizzling of the fat.
"Must remember," she told herself, "to tell people what to do. When it sounds like I know what I'm talking about, they'll do what I ask. I've got to be decisive, and I'll be in like Flynn. Maybe I'll get laid at last if I use the same tactics. Maybe I could walk up to a guy and look him straight in the eye and say firmly, 'fuck me.' I'll bet he would too."
The sound of footsteps behind her brought her back to the present. It was Dick, looking eager and helpful as he peered over her shoulder.
"Need any help?" he asked. "That looks good, kid. About ready to turn over too."
He pushed her to one side and took hold of the pan handle. "Here, watch this for a mind-blower. I learned it in the scouts. Stand back. I'm a killer."
Taking the pan handle firmly in both hands, he backed away from the stove and into the center of the room. Hefting the pan for a moment or two to get the balance, he jerked the pan upwards, making the crisp pancake turn a somersault in the air and catching it again in the waiting pan.
"Stick with me, kid. There are things you'd never learn in a million years anywhere else."
Laughing down at her, he put the pan back on the stove. "You know," he said in mock seriousness. "There are times when I even amaze myself. I'm a goddamned wonder, aren't I?" Julie snuggled up to Dick, nestling her slim body comfortably under his encircling arm. "How the hell I'll get along without you," she pondered, "I don't know. You've shown me how to goose you, beat your meat, lick your dick, wriggle my tits, and now how to toss pancakes. Dick, you're just a living mine of information, aren't you?"
Dick nodded sagely. "Sure am. Say, have you ever had cock and maple syrup?" he asked looking the bottle on the table.
Julie shook her head and giggled. "No. But I've it with strawberry preserves." Lennie sat bolt upright. Startled out of his lethargy he said "The hell you have. Where did you come across that combination?" Julie looked at him coyly. "Oh, I get around.
know, you meet an occasional gourmet as you travel around."
She looked down at Dick's prick which was hardening rapidly and reached for the bottle. Don't you think it would be a bit runny though?" queried.
Dick considered the problem for a moment before he answered. "Well, if you sort of lay down with your mouth underneath and suck on the tip while I pour the stuff down from the top of it, you'd get most of it right on."
Lennie cut into the technicalities of the discussion. "Not if I can stop it. What are you two anyway? A couple of perverts? Aren't you satisfied having it the real way?"
He shook his head disgustedly. "A blow job's a blow job. These weird ideas are degenerate and un-American. That's the trouble with you young people. Knocking everything that you think is out of it. Burning the goddamned colleges and rioting. Wanting jam and maple syrup on a dick before you'll suck it. Too bad you weren't alive during the depression."
Looking at Julie, he continued indignantly. "I hadn't even got jam to put on my bread, and you want to go about smearing it over every prick you see. Goldwater and Reagan have the right ideas. Should crack down on you dissidents."
Julie crossed the room and put her arms around him as he sat slumped in his chair. Her long hair tumbled down onto the back of his shoulders.
"Be cool, Lennie," she consoled him. Her breasts rubbed against his bare back as she kissed the top of his thinning head.
"This is a wealthy society and there's enough strawberry jam to go around. You'll get your share. If you're a good boy, maybe I'll make a nice dessert for you when you come back tonight."
Lennie strained his head back to look at her. Her long, blonde hair trailed across his face.
"Yeah, I'd like that." He leaned the chair backwards until the firm mounds of her sexy tits rested on his shoulder.
"What flavor do I get?" Lennie asked.
Julie straightened up and eased his chair back until the four legs were solidly on the floor.
"How about raspberry snatch?" she asked. "You're the one who seems to be suffering from a jam deficiency," she commented consolingly.
Defeated, Lennie helped himself to the pancakes that Julie had piled onto a plate in the middle of the table. Pouring the maple syrup over his pancake, he watched it sink out of sight below the golden surface.
Life's like that, he thought. Now you have it, mow you don't.
Syrupy pancakes, he'd had. Jammed snatch was something new. Though after all these years, he had learned that no matter what you got, no matter how high the achievement, you could never atop still but had to keep on going for something that was better than what you already had. He wondered what would come after strawberry twat. But beyond that his mind would not go.
This should be the absolute end to a guy's efforts. Having sucked jam out of a hot snatch, he should rest content for the balance of his productive years. But he wouldn't. He'd spend frustrated years trying to figure out something even more tray-out.
Dick broke into the silence. "What's on your mind, man?" There was a mocking tone to his voice as he continued. "Don't worry about me and your cunt. I've had all I can eat. It's my guess she won't be around for much longer anyway, so I'll leave you the last mouthful, Lennie. It sounds as if it's going to be a tasty one. But for me, I prefer the flavor of raw meat. I must be part cannibal." Julie heaped a fresh pile of pancakes on the table. Pouring out more coffee, she looked across at Lennie.
"How do I get back in here," she asked Lennie, "if I go out today? Do you have a spare key?" Lennie shook his head. "These motels only dish 'em out one at a time. Tell you what." The thought of jammed snatch ran through his mind as he continued. "I'll leave my key at the office and make it right with the manager for you to pick it up when you get back. How's that grab you?"
His eyes glittered wickedly as he thought again of jammed snatch. "Got some shopping to do for tonight's dessert, honey?"
Julie looked at him blankly for a moment. "Er, no. I was going to ... Oh, I see what you mean. Don't worry about tonight. I'll see that you don't go hungry. There'll be a box lunch waiting for you when you come in. I told you I was going out today. I want to have a look around the town and see what gives in the big city."
Julie followed the two men as they left the table and made their way into the bedroom to dress. Throwing herself down on the bed, she watched the transformation as the hairy bodies that had pounded and probed into her soft flesh became impeccable, respectable businessmen.
Underneath every tailored suit, she thought to herself, there is a sex-crazed ape just waiting the opportunity to get its prick in your mouth.
As if reading her thoughts, Dick paused as he was pulling his fly zipper shut. "Hey, Julie. Want a little lick of my joy stick before I put him away for the day?"
She sighed resignedly and beckoned Lennie over also. "Get yours out, too, or you'll be sulking all day."
Julie swung her legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed with the two men facing her. Eagerly, Lennie unzipped his fly and reached inside. He whipped out his prick and his balls, which were supported by his stretched pants' opening. They bulged under the base of his penis, making a soft couch for it to rest on. As the guys stood side by side in front of her, their hairy dongs were on a level with her mouth. Taking one in each of her hands, her head went from side to side as she alternated from one to the other. Opening her mouth to its fullest extent, she pushed her head forward onto each cock, driving it deep into her fleshy throat. Neither of the cocks were at their full hardness. Firm, but still pliable enough to allow them to bend slightly, they slipped down the shape of her throat. At each successive insertion, Julie felt them expand and stiffen, making it more difficult for her to accept them. Lennie's shorter and thicker staff was not too bad because it was unable to pass the restriction of her mouth and buried itself between the back of her tongue and her fleshy upper palate. She found that if she made the motions of swallowing at the end of each stroke, she was able to control the desire to gag over this monstrous intruder.
Dick's longer and thinner dong was a different problem. Being narrower, it could penetrate and ram deeply into her throat. As she swallowed on his thrust, the sweeping action of her tongue drew his tool even farther down her gullet, increasing the desire to throw up and making her swallow again to counteract it. Leaving her mouth clamped over his extended member, she fought for control of her nausea as he pumped slowly and deeply into her head. His balls swung loosely and slapped against her chin at the end of each stroke. Driven beyond endurance, Dick groaned and locked his hands behind her head, forcing her face down until the air she breathed was filtered through the thick mat of his pubic hair. His ass swayed in time to his rhythmic motion.
Lennie's voice was sharp with annoyance as he reached over and pulled Dick's hands away.
"Let go of her ears," Lennie demanded. "She knows what she's doing."
Julie pulled her head off Dick's penetrating prick with relief. "The trouble with you guys is you want me to make a meal of it. You can't be satisfied with a couple of quick licks after breakfast but want a four-course lunch instead. Just no self-control, either of you. Now get the hell out of here so I can clean up a little before I go out."
She turned toward Lennie and took his prick in her hands. "Here, let me put it away for you, Lennie. You've got a nice little tool that takes what it's offered without demanding more."
Resting the bulging penis head in the palm of her hand, she raised it to her lips. With her full, red lips nuzzling against the swollen flesh, she kissed it in mock tenderness.
"There now," she told it gently. "Mummy loves you, but take your owner out to earn a few pennies."
Lennie felt the coldness of the air strike the saliva-moistened flesh before Julie carefully tucked his prick away into the warmth of his pants and pulled up his zipper.
Lennie turned to his friend with a satisfied expression. "Let's get to hell out of here before we start all over again. Got to earn the rent for this place and a few bucks for jam besides."
Dick shrugged his shoulders and slipped on his jacket.
Julie followed them to the door. The bright sunlight streamed onto her slim body as they opened it. Lennie bent over to get his sample case and rubbed his face into her blonde pubic hair for a moment before straightening up.
"See you around, honey," Lennie told her. Then realizing that she was standing naked in the doorway, he screamed at her, "For Christ sake, get your ass back behind the door before someone phones the cops."
Julie giggled as she stepped back behind the door. "Don't fall off your pot, Lennie," she told him. "I can take care of a few pigs if somebody calls them."
Dick wound the window down in his T-bird and put his head out. "Bet you could, baby. And all of Los Angeles Finest and the Fire Department afterwards."
Dick turned on the ignition key and gunned the engine into life. "Be seeing you then. You've got my phone number. If ever you get tired of this sawed-off prick," he said nodding his head toward Lennie, "I've got a nice big bone you can gnaw on at my place."
He waved as he drove off. The sun glinted on the car windows as he turned out of the drive and onto Hollywood Boulevard.
Lennie stopped as he was getting into the car. Turning to look at Julie's head as it peered around the corner of the door, he addressed her paternally.
"You watch what you're doing around town today. There's a lot of no good S.O.B.s in this joint that would try and take advantage of a young chick straight out of the boondocks. Watch it, babe. Do y'hear me?"
Julie brought one bare arm from around the door and waved to him as he drove off slowly.
"He wasn't such a bad bastard," she thought as she shut the door behind her. "Maybe I'll come back and give him his jammed pussy if things don't look too hot in L.A."
But first of all, she had to have a look at the town she had traveled so far to see. She thought she would walk along Sunset Strip and just let the atmosphere of the place soak into her pores. She wanted to look at the chicks and see what they were wearing. And of course she'd give the guys the once over and speculate whether they had a mind to offer as well as a throbbing prick. Some of the long-haired types she had seen as she drove with Lennie had fascinated her.
As she crossed the room, the sunlight poured through the open drapes of the windows. Long fingers of light seemed to beckon to her, inviting her to search for the excitement and adventure that she knew awaited her out there.
Humming softly to herself, she went into the bathroom. Bending over, she turned on the taps, letting the water plunge and foam into the bathtub. The roar of the water muted the distant rumble of the traffic on the Strip, deadening the sense of urgency that she had experienced a few moments before.
Standing in front of the mirror, she pinned up her long hair to keep it out of the bathwater. Approvingly, she noted its sheen and fullness. It would be a pity to wet it and let it lose its body. Today, she wanted to look her best so that she could rise to any challenge that the hours ahead might bring.
Putting her hand into the water, she tested the temperature before lowering herself below the slightly green surface.
Gingerly, she slid lower and lower until she was completely submerged. Her buoyant breasts peeped coyly out of the distorting water. Two firm islands in a hot, tropical sea. As she moved, the water swirled, rose and receded, momentarily uncovering her rounded body. Thin rivulets of water ran off her wet flesh and trickled back into the bathwater.
The sensuously hot water seemed to have a life of its own. The rivulets felt like caressing fingers of water that were reluctant to lose the firm, white body that merged with it. Meditatively, Julie rubbed soap over herself.
A shudder of anticipation ran through her as she wondered what a long-hair would feel like. She imagined a beard nestling against her thighs as its owner's hot tongue explored the secrets of her vagina. Groovy, she thought and let her mind run riot as she surrendered herself to the sensuality of her probing, soap slick fingers.
With an effort, she beat back the mounting wave of desire that flooded into the pit of her stomach. There was no need any longer to indulge in furtive finger play. She was a woman now; and here in California ready to take on all comers. And the more they came in hot, satisfying spurts, the happier she would be. Determined, she lowered herself back under the water. The lather floated away from her pubic hair like a white ball of bubbles on fop of the water.
Reaching down, she opened the lips of her vulva and allowed the warm cleansing flow of water to flood into her. Sitting up, she reached out for Lennie's razor and carefully shaved under her arms.
If she was going to wear the see-through blouse that she'd got off Lennie, she wanted to create the suggestion of soft pink flesh through the translucent material. And she couldn't do that if she had armpits like a gorilla.
She watched the mixture of soap and hair slide down her chest and merge with the bathwater. The cavity of her armpits was hairless, pink and glowing-a suitable receptacle for some adventurous prick to slide into.
Reaching over, she put her leg out of the tub. flashing the outlet lever down with her toe, she hard the water begin to gurgle as it rushed down the waste pipe. Standing up, she reached for the towel and wrapped it around herself before getting out onto the bath mat.
Patting herself dry, she made her way into the bedroom. Moving quickly about the room, she straightened the bed and picked up the scattered clothes.
She deliberated about what to wear. The transparent blouse was a must. She thought the texture of the tweed two-piece would contrast nicely with the soft flesh that it revealed.
Wriggling her hips, she eased the snug-fitting skirt into place. Tucking the blouse inside the waistband, she stood back to get the effect. She nodded happily back to her reflection in the mirror.
"Oh, brother," she muttered. "If this doesn't make them notice, nothing will. Better wear the matching jacket as well. I can always slip it off when I really want to create an impression."
To walk about in the blouse and skirt alone, would have them howling in the streets, she chuckled.
Going into her suitcase, she selected a pair of coffee-colored pantyhose that would go well with the flaxen skirt and display her long, slim legs. Now she went over to examine the shoes that she had got from Dick. Rummaging among them, she found the perfect pair: light tan; the highly polished surface of the leather reflecting the subtle variations of shade as she moved.
Slipping them on, she walked across the room to try them out. The square, mod heels were higher than she was used to and she felt the muscles in her buttocks tighten, forcing her into an upright, graceful posture.
Picking up her costume jacket from the back of the chair, she slipped it on over her transparent blouse.
Dressed as she was in her new duds, she knew she looked good and could afford to be choosy about the dicks she licked from now on. She didn't want to have to blow the motel manager on the way out.
Slipping the catch down on the front door, she pulled it closed behind her. Her high heels clicked along the concrete path to the manager's office. The Venetian blinds at the office window parted a little and she was aware of a pair of eyes surveying her as she walked the last few yards.
Pushing the door open just as the manager reached his chair, she swept up to the counter.
"About the key for number twenty one," she started to explain.
The manager wrenched his eyes upwards from her micro mini. He swallowed before answering. "Yup ... your brother explained about it as he drove off this morning." He eyed her trim figure. "Say, if I had a sister like you visiting with me, I reckon I'd phone in sick and take a couple of days off."
Recognizing the danger signals, Julie thanked him and left quickly. Really, she thought to herself as she walked down the remainder of the driveway. The guy must be in his sixties. Don't they ever quit?
She could feel his hot eyes on her as she turned the corner. The motel was in the more residential section of the Strip and she had a good five-minute walk in front of her before she hit the main drag.
As she went past the neon signs flashing in front of the motels, she looked up at the drawn drapes covering the windows and wondered who was sucking whom in the ten dollar privacy of their rooms. Many girls like her had probably sucked their way through the very places she was passing now.
The hot Hollywood sun felt good on her head as she crossed a small junction and plunged into the dense crowds that were packing the sidewalks of Sunset Strip. Pausing in a shop doorway, she stood for a moment and watched the people as they jostled.
There were all kinds of people there. Rubbernecked tourists walked with cameras slung around their necks like a chain of office. A group of women talked excitedly in their praise of the daring fashions displayed in the store windows. The guys waited patiently in a tight little group, sneaking quick glances out of the corners of their eyes at the bra-less girls as they flaunted their bouncing boobies in front of them. Then the women would screech at them, and taking their arms, the group would set out again.
The people passed with their eyes down and mouths reading out the names of the stars set into the concrete sidewalk. There was a searching procession of people, the tail end somewhere around the Chinese Theater and the head being photographed at the corner of Sunset and Vine to prove that they had been there.
Bearded hippies, with their pale washed-out girlfriends, drifted with their eyes on distant horizons. Somewhere along the Strip, they knew they would find the magic elixir. Taking the perfect trip, they could blow the remainder of their tottering reason in some mad, swirling acid dream of reality.
Their clothes were out of sight. Really way-out. In their frantic desire to be non-conformist, their off-beat clothes had become a sort of uniform. Unless they dressed according to the rigorous standards laid down by their non-conforming, revolutionary sub-culture, they could no longer demonstrate their independence.
Two black men passed the doorway. Their hair was fuzzed high upon their proudly held heads. Julie had read of the black movement in the large cities, and how the Negroes had rediscovered their African heritage. The simple phrase, "Black is Beautiful," summed up their attitude.
One of the blacks was wearing what Julie imagined to be an African tribal costume. A long flowing multi-hued robe hung loosely from shoulders down to feet, which were rather conspicuous in baseball tennis shoes. The man beside him was a breathtaking riot of color in fashionable mod attire. His shirt was cut on a feminine style out of what seemed to be curtain material. There were gathers along the shoulder yoke and the sleeves were loose and puffed like old-fashioned leg of mutton sleeves that Julie had seen pictures of her grandmother wearing. Over his shirt, he was sporting a heavy cast brass medallion on a thick chain around his neck.
There was cool appraisal in their eyes as they looked at Julie that indicated they were no strangers to the taste of white meat. A delicious shiver ran through Julie as she dropped her eyes from their challenge, wondering if the stories she had heard about blacks were true. Someday, she promised herself, she would find out. When she raised her head, they had become lost in the seething crowd along the sidewalk.
An elderly man with long white hair stepped in front of her. His appearance was startling. He was dressed like a Southern Confederate of the pre-Civil War days. Straight from the pages of Gone With the Wind, he raised his white stetson.
"Howdy, ma'am. New in town?"
Julie gulped nervously, not knowing how to reply. Back in Iowa people would have laughed at him, but here, anything seemed to go. He wore his outlandish costume with such assurance and effect that it made you believe in him.
Julie smiled shyly. "Yes, couple of days now. It's a groovy place, isn't it?"
He nodded his head in agreement. "It sure is, missy. Whatever you want, you'll find it here. It's been a pleasure talking to you. A fresh face, especially a pretty one is always welcome."
With a courtly bow, he replaced his hat and was gone.
Leaving the shelter of the doorway, Julie ventured out onto the sidewalk. On the opposite side of the street a funky Rolls Royce, painted bright yellow, drew her attention. A small crowd had collected around it be the time she managed to cross the boulevard. Standing on tiptoe, she caught sight of a guy with shoulder-length hair wearing another curtain material shirt. His face, half hidden by a Mexican type moustache, was hard and cruel before it broke into a smile. His eyes glistened cold and calculating above the grinning mask of his face. Two teenaged girls in front of the car made loud animal noises.
Winding the window down, he shouted, "Get the new one, kids. It's on the Delia label." With a last wave, he settled back in the cushions in the car. He made a sign to the driver and the car pulled away from the curb.
Mystified, Julie turned to a skinny twelve-year-old girl. "And who," Julie asked, "is that?"
The child looked at her incredulously. "You mean to say you don't know?"
Julie admitted ignorance as the girl continued. "Sister, you must be from outer space. That was Mike Hubbard of The Mother Grabbers. Them and The Airplane are the greatest. They turn me on."
Julie gazed at the receding car. So that was one of the Mother Grabbers. Somehow when she had heard their records being played on the local station back home, she had imagined somebody different. She expected some special type of person, whose appearance would match the wisdom and the idealism that she believed was present in the words and music they represented. He did look out of sight and groovy with his hair and clothes and all. But those eyes ... There was no warmth or soul in that calculating scrutiny.
As the crowd dispersed, Julie allowed herself to be carried along with it. Slowly she moved long a couple of blocks. A young man in front of her stopped suddenly, causing her to bump into him.
Julie smiled at him apologetically. "Gee, I'm sorry. But you didn't give any hand signals."
The young man turned. His face looked intellectual with its frame of black beard.
"My fault. I'm always doing it," he grinned at her as he continued. "Met some of my best friends that way. I spent a month with a Japanese girl that ran into me on a parking lot. She was a lousy driver, but a great cook. Rice seems to reduce my sexual drive though. I had to skip."
He took her arm as if he had known her for years d steered her into a coffee shop. "I'm just going in here before the accident," he informed her. "Care to join me?"
Julie tried to relax, fighting back the tension she felt building up inside her. The guy was still talking as they made their way to an empty booth.
She had come to Los Angeles to meet people, yet every time someone spoke to her she dried up. She decided she had better stop acting like a hick. This was Hollywood and if people acted this way, she supposed they knew what they were doing.
An indifferent waitress slopped two glasses of ice water in front of them while handing them a huge printed menu. Julie suddenly realized that she was hungry.
With an assurance that she didn't feel, she looked across at the young man opposite to her.
"Would you think me a pig if I ordered an omelet?" she asked laughing.
He shook his head. "Be my guest. They're probably not up to much. There used to be a marvelous place by the beach in Venice called the Shiftwood. They gave six-egg omelets for sixty cents. I was shooting a film down there and lived on them for a couple of weeks. Want to see my feathers?"
Julie straightened up in her chair and undid the buttons on her jacket. Moving her arms as if unconsciously, she let her see-through blouse come into sight.
"Did you say you were shooting a film down there?" she asked with an intrigued catch in her voice. "Are you in the movie business?"
The guy laughed depreciatingly. "It depends what you call the movies. I'm a student. I'm in Theatre Arts at U.C.L.A. By the way, I'm Allan Adderman. What's your name?"
Julie let her breath out and eased her boobs back to more natural proportions before answering.
"Julie Baldwin," she told him. "I'm, er, on vacation."
Allan nodded approvingly. "Fine, fine," he said. "Maybe I can show you around the zoo. We have some student films coming up soon in Royce Hall. Give me your phone number and we'll make arrangements."
Julie shook her blonde head. "I can't," she told him. "I haven't settled down yet. No home, no phone."
Allan took it in his stride. "It's no hassle," he said. Then taking a pen out of his shirt pocket, he continued. "Here, I'll give you mine. The top one is my pad in Venice. It's a bit cruddy, but it's near the beach and cheap. The other is my parents' number. I go there to eat occasionally. Rice is bad enough, but starving is a bummer."
Julie sat patiently listening to him. Then seizing her chance, she broke in. "But you said you make films. You make money doing that."
Allan looked at her indulgently. "I said I make films. Not I make money. The stuff we do is for credits at school. When I get my master's degree at the end of the quarter, maybe I'll make some money then." His companion was sympathetic. "Well, how do you make money? Someone's got to buy bread and pay for tuition."
Allan glanced around the restaurant furtively before answering. "I know a guy who makes stag films after hours. I help out sometimes." Julie tried to stifle her laughter as she spoke. You mean you screw in front of a camera for money?"
Allan held his hand up to quieten her. "Watch it will you," he cautioned. "You never know who's listening."
He leaned over towards her. "No, I'm not in front of the camera. I'm behind it. I do the photography. The money's good and I'm learning all the time."
"To screw?" Julie cut in.
Allan shook his head impatiently. "No. I don't need any practice in that field. It's the technical know-how that I'm short of. This guy that I'm telling you about, the one from the studio. He's terrific. It intrigues me the way he brings a whole new art form into porno pictures. He's worked with all the topflight names in the straight field. He knows every trick in the book and he's taught me a bell of a lot. He's good fun, too. A great person to be around."
Allan paused as a thought seemed to strike him. "Say, how would you like to meet him?"
He looked at Julie quizzically, his scrutiny starting at the top of her blonde head and lingering for quite a while on her half-revealed tits.
Then with added certainty, he carried on. "He might have something for you."
Julie cut in again. "Yes, and I can imagine what it is, too."
Allan noted her reaction. "Well, you'd have to audition, of course. But apart from that, he's casting for someone to play the part of a twelve-year-old girl who falls in love with a middle-aged man. It's a beautiful story and handled very sympathetically. It beats Candy all to hell. What do you say? Should I phone him?"
Julie fidgeted nervously for a moment. "Well, I er, don't really know," she said hesitantly. "I want to have a look around first before committing myself. I don't know what I want to do yet. What would I have to do in the film anyway? I mean I haven't..."
Allan silenced her with a warning grimace and nodded towards the waitress who was coming towards them with their order.
"Keep it down. Play it cool," he said in a whisper. "They have spies everywhere."
His alarm was contagious. "Who are THEY? "Julie whispered back.
"They," Allan informed her, "are the pigs. The Establishment. They are everywhere, watching, listening. If you are young and look like a swinger, they bust you just on principle. It's worse for students. I could tell you things that would ..."
He broke off abruptly as the waitress reached the table. He greeted her smiling. "Oh, that looks good. You were quick, too."
The waitress shifted her feet tiredly. "Thank you, sir. Will that be all?"
Flattery she could do without. It was the tip she was interested in. This kid looked like a student out with his girlfriend. She knew that if she got a quarter out of them, she'd be lucky.
Flashing a mechanical, practiced smile in their direction, she left them to their own devices.
Allan waited until she was out of earshot before continuing. "Where were we up to? Oh yes," he went on. "You were asking what you would have to do. Well, I only glanced through the script. The shooting script is what I'm interested in. However, as well as I can remember, it's aimed at the nymphophile market."
Catching Julie's look of puzzlement, he elaborated. "That means child lover. It should be quite a large market, too. Did you know that the biggest indictable crime in the U.S. is child molesting. Those figures include incest and other related behavioral patterns, of course."
Julie shook her head in disbelief.
"It's a fact," Allan assured her. "I was researching the subject for this guy at the campus library. I read a lot of stuff for him there. It's quiet there and you can concentrate. Meet a lot of the right kind of people there, too. I was researching a nude Tarzan production for him a couple of months back and met a girl who was doing Central African anthropology as a major. She ended up playing Jane. She made a lot of bread and got laid by dozens of 'natives.' She said it was the most total experience she had ever had. It really turned her Julie nodded her head as she remembered the effect that the two blacks had had upon her as they walked past the doorway she was standing in. Their hot, knowing appraisal had caused the juices to flow in her love pit. The thought of their hard pricks pumping into her while the owners' fertility medallions beat a tattoo on her bare boobs turned her on, too. She knew just how the girl student felt. Dangling dongs and jingling dollars was enough to turn anybody on.
Stimulated, Julie came out of her reverie and questioned Allan further. "Would I get laid, too?" she asked hopefully. "I mean there's a lot of screwing that goes on in those films, isn't there?"
Allan misread the inflection in her voice. Mistaking it for reluctance he said, "No. You'd play the virgin."
His voice" was soft and reassuring. "All you'd have to do is blow the guy, beat his meat and stuff like that. There would be other birds getting laid. But unless they write anything into your part for the backers, you are supposed to be pure and innocent. The theme of the whole production is the idealism and delicacy of young girlhood."
He stopped talking as he caught sight of the plate of food that was lying untouched in front of her.
"Hey, you've not eaten anything. You said you were hungry."
Obediently, Julie picked up a fork and took a corner off the omelet. Raising it to her lips, she found that it wasn't too bad at all. It had begun to settle a little as it cooled, but it was still good. Eagerly, she took another mouthful.
It had been quite a while since she had sat down to a square meal. There had been snacks at Lennie's place, but most of the time she had been munching on choppers. Jism is groovy, but not very nourishing. She must have lost quite a bit of weight since she came to Los Angeles. She took another mouthful of the omelet and motioned to Allan.
"What's that you've got? Apple pie? Better hurry up and eat it before I get finished with this omelet."
Allan nodded absently and picked up a fork. "Sorry, I was thinking. You know," he continued, "it might be an idea for you to get in touch with Ben."
Julie countered him with, "Who's Ben?"
Allan spoke through a mouthful of pie. "The movie guy I was telling you about, of course."
They both ate in silence for a minute. Allan finished his pie and spooned some sugar into his coffee.
"Look, I'm tied up for today anyway. I've got to go to the Pickwick Bookshop to pick up something. We'll split after you've finished. But listen. You've got my numbers, so keep in touch. Even if nothing jells about the film bit, call, me and I'll show you around."
He signaled to the waitress, who came over with the bill. Fishing in his pockets, he brought out a quarter and left it beside his plate.
Julie finished off her coffee and stood up. "Ready when you are," she told him.
Stopping at the cash desk, Allan settled the bill and led Julie out into the sunshine of the Sunset Strip.
Allan looked at her inquisitively. "Where are you heading for then?"
Julie shrugged her shoulders. "Nowhere in particular. I'm just bumming around and looking at things."
Allan pointed down the street. "I'm going this way. Want to walk along?"
Taking her arm, Allan steered her through the crowds, he indicated the places they were passing.
"Over there on the corner is Max Factor's main place. They do a roaring trade here in Hollywood.
Nobody wants to grow old gracefully. They try to stay young hideously instead."
A thrill ran through Julie as she looked at the marble portals. "Think of all the movie stars you'd see going in there," she exclaimed rapturously.
Allan looked at her quizzically. "You don't see them going in. They wear heavy veils until they come out with a fresh paint job."
Julie spoke through her laughter. "You know you're mad, don't you?"
"Genius," Allan assured her solemnly, "is akin to madness."
They walked a few more paces. Allan talked like a tour guide.
"And if you care to look on the left of the bus, you will see that we are now passing the famous Hollywood Wax Museum, internationally famous for its reproductions."
He put his mouth to her ear. "Actually," he whispered, "they make them wear condoms now, so they can't" Julie was puzzled. "Can't what?" she asked.
"Reproduce ... Don't ever ask me to explain my jokes. They're not that funny."
Stopping at the foyer, Julie gazed delightedly at the photographs.
"Oh, Allan," Julie's eyes were shining as she spoke. "I think you're right on. Can we go in and have a look around?"
He shook his head. "I've already told you, I'm tied up for today. I'd love to later. But right now, I've got to go to the Pickwick."
Reluctantly, Julie allowed herself to be led away from the front of the museum and back onto the sidewalk. The sound of music came to her above the roar of the traffic. They moved closer to the little circle of spectators, but she still could not distinguish the music as being Indian. Unable to pass through the crowd, they stopped on the outer edge. An elderly couple in front of her shook their heads at each other and moved away. Julie dragged Allan into the vacant spot.
In front of her was the queerest sight she had ever seen. Squatted in a semi-circle in the gutter were a bunch of half-starved people dressed in loin Cloths and long robes. The girls among them wore saris or shapeless costumes that fell around their ankles in dirty folds. A pretty young girl sat in the middle of them with an Indian stringed instrument in front of her. As she picked out the haunting Eastern melody, the others chanted the words in eye-closed concentration. To one side, an emaciated youth with long hair, beat rhythmically on a deep-toned drum. The weird chanting and the pulsing throb of the drum began to work its way into Julie's mind and she found herself beginning to sway in time to the insistent music.
Allan squeezed her arm. "Steady on," he warned her. "You'll be joining them next."
Julie's face was flushed as she turned to him. "Brother, this is really far out. Who are they? Some new group?"
Allan laughed. "If you mean musical group, the answer's no," he told her. "It's one of the religious sects. There's dozens of them about in the canyons in L.A. I couldn't say exactly who these are, but they all follow a pattern. Usually, they follow some debased Oriental philosophy which is injected into their minds. Some of them have a degree of truth. Others are just an excuse to pander to the sensual element. That's alright if you like orgies and that sort of thing. And," he added smiling, "let's face it, who doesn't?"
Julie surveyed the group in front of her carefully. "Which one is the leader?" she inquired.
Allan nodded his head toward the shop doorway behind them. "The unwashed gentleman over there in the doorway. It's cooler in the shade and easier to split if the pigs start harassing the devotees."
Disbelief showed in Julie's voice. "But why should they want to do that?" she asked.
Allan shrugged his shoulders. "Beats the shit out of me. But that's pig mentality. If they see anybody doing their thing, they club 'em."
Taking her arm again, Allan edged through the crowd. As they waited for the traffic light at a busy little intersection, Allan directed her attention to a flashing sign a few doors up the street on the right hand side.
"There's a place you'd dig ... The Third World. They've got everything there. Love beads, psychedelic lamps, books, even the clap."
Following his pointing finger, Julie spotted the shop. The windows were painted in garish, swirling designs, matching the assortment of people leaving and entering the doors.
She opened her mouth and turned to Allan.
"Oh," he forestalled her question. "I've told you. I have to go to the Pickwick. But as soon as I'm free, we'll get together."
As the traffic light flashed to green, he helped Julie down the curb and they darted to the opposite pavement. On the corner stood a Mexican Cafe with a loudspeaker blaring mariachi music over the door. The next shop seemed to be part of the same firm and was full of Mexican curios.
Julie came to a standstill in front of the window. Her voice was shrill as she exclaimed breathlessly.
"Oh Allen, just look at all this funky stuff. Is it all for real?"
He followed her gaze and shuddered. "It may be a mirage. If we close our eyes, perhaps it will go away."
"No, stupid," Julie said impatiently. "You know what I mean. Is it really Mexican and made there by Indians?" Her curiosity increased.
Allan nodded. "Yes, most of it. The prices are high here of course as they sell to tourists and hicks from Iowa."
He ducked as Julie swung at him with her purse.
"Tell you what," he suggested. "Let's have a run to T.J. someday. The place is out of sight. You can pick up some camp gear if you know where to look. Everybody should go to Tijuana at least once in their lives. It would be fun showing you the place. One of these weekends, alright?"
Julie agreed raptuously. "I'd love to. It sounds great. But how do we get there?" she queried.
"It's no sweat," he reassured her. "We'll go in my car. It's less than two hours to the border. The car should live that long. One of the nice things about a V.W. bug is that when it gets tired, you can always carry it. I don't like leaving it in T.J. though. They cut up the tires for sandals and engage in other quaint native customs. It's rough driving back on the freeway on the rims."
Resisting the impulse to go into the shop and browse around, Julie fell into step with her escort as he continued down Sunset Strip.
A couple of blocks further they reached the entrance to the Pickwick Bookshop.
Allan turned to her. "Well," he asked her, "What'll it be? Do you want to come in and watch me 'liberate' a couple of books, or are you going to carry on with the tour on your own?"
Julie stood indecisively on the pavement. Through the glass windows, she could see the millions of books stacked invitingly down isle after isle. She saw a varied cross-section of human-drifting through the profusion. Students and professors, looking for textbooks, rubbed shoulders with queerly garbed cultists, seeking treatises on religion and demonology. A suburban housewife was buying a cookbook and a hippie girl was scanning through a work on the preparation of love potions. They were, in Julie's eyes, a most interesting and diverse collection of human beings.
Looking up at Allan, she noticed how impatiently he stood beside her. "You carry on," she told him. "You've spent enough time already. I'll have a quick look around and see if there's anything I can't live without. I've got your phone number. I'll call you in a couple of days and see if we can work anything out. I'll look forward to seeing you."
Allan smiled back at her, his brown eyes expressive and warm. "Don't forget now. And it's been nice meeting a girl that hasn't been bent out of shape by the system."
Still smiling, he, turned and disappeared through the door.
Taking her time, Julie walked through the swinging doors and down the isles of books. Gazing at the titles, her mind was far away.
That had been a most refreshing encounter for her. For the first time since she had been here, someone had given her something without asking anything in return. Allen had appeared to be interested in her as a person and not as a sex object. As she had spoken to him, she had felt a warmth of communication between them that was something unusual in her young life. He was obviously clever and functioning at a higher intellectual level than she. And yet he had been interested in what she had to say and did not think any less of her for asking questions. She thought that it would be nice to see more of him after she had settled down. He seemed to represent the sort of thing that she had come to Los Angles to explore.
But what was she going to talk about. She didn't want to appear to be a complete dud. Suddenly, her eye fell upon a book entitled Comparative Religions. That seemed to be a subject that interested him. She remembered the way he was discussing the cults that existed in the area.
Before making any further judgment, Julie picked up the book and checked the price. It was reduced to three dollars. At that price, she decided that she couldn't afford to be without it.
Paying at the desk, she left the shop without catching sight of Allan again. She retraced her steps back along Sunset Boulevard.
The sun was shining brightly on a beautiful, carefree day. Julie thought that there couldn't be a better time to go to see some of the flower people.
If she had a car, she would have run up to Big Sur to see what the scene was out there. She had heard how they lived in communes, with everybody contributing according to their ability. They even referred to themselves as a family. But it probably meant a family with a difference. The incest taboo was unheard of and everybody screwed with everybody as the mood took them. Delight-mi. A meaningful social experiment with unlimited fucking.
As she walked, Julie found herself back on the corner, where the Mexican shop stood.
"What the hell," she muttered. "I'll go and have a look. What did Allan say it was called? Oh yes, The Third World, that was it."
Turning right up the side street a few short steps, she arrived at the entrance.
A solid wall of gut-slamming music hit her as she entered. The smell of incense was overpowering. The place looked like it had been a warehouse of an office complex. Now, the partitions had been removed and the whole place was a huge, noise-filled, pulsating unit. Stalls and booths had been set up that sold everything imaginable. Psychedelic lamps flickered in one booth, while another booth showed eye-hurting displays of fluorescent posters. A cacophony of solid rock music assailed the ears as two bearded youths demonstrated cut priced records on an amplifying system. The next stall offered Indian brass ware and junky jewelry. Julie wandered spellbound through the displays.
The offerings were endless. Pausing at a secondhand bookstall, she glanced through the titles casually. The smell of spices and strange herbs came to her from the next stall. It was hot and the exotically spiced air from the next stall was relaxing and languorous. Glancing around her, Julie scrutinized the dress of the other girls. The majority of customers seemed to have a complete indifference to the charms of their scantily clad bodies.
The girl behind the spice stall was wearing a fringed leather jacket that gaped open and displayed her firm young breasts as she bent across the counter. The ripple and sway of the girls' un-confined bodies showed that even those wearing ankle-length Mother Hubbard dresses, were naked underneath.
Brushing a sweat-damp strand of hair from her face, Julie straightened up and removed her jacket. In her expensive micro-mini and well-tailored see-through blouse, her clean blonde beauty stood out among the off-beat hippie girls around her.
What made them outstanding was the casual display of their bodies. Julie knew that she could beat them at the game. There wasn't a pair of knockers to match hers in the entire place. And the ultra-short skirt she was wearing only accentuated the desirability of her long-legged body.
With an affectation of aloof superiority, she engrossed herself in the study of the books around her. She felt little surprise, however, when she became aware of a pair of piercing eyes, studying her from above a pile of books a few feet away. As if unaware, she brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulders. Falling as it did, down the front of her, it concealed the thrust of her boobs against the transparent covering of her blouse.
She felt the hot glance running over her body, like exploring fingers. Putting the book she was studying down on the counter, she bent over to read it closer. The see-through blouse obeyed the laws of gravity and the patch pockets relinquished her pink-tipped tits, leaving them obvious through the material.
Seemingly engrossed in her book, she heard the soft pad of sandaled feet approaching.
A voice overtoned with Indian temples and mystery, spoke behind her.
"Teek hi, Mem. I see that you are interested in our ancient beliefs."
A thin brown hand came from behind her and touched the book on the counter before her. The smell of curry and spices assailed her as the voice spoke again.
"Oh, yes. The writing of the great swami Lal-Kaka. We studied together in Bombay."
Julie turned to meet the owner of the voice. All the mysteries of the East seemed to be embodied in the saffron-robed man who stood before her.
Aged about forty, his thin, esthetic face appeared to know of the depths of human frailties, but the understanding in his moist brown eyes spoke of his compassion for the millions, who unlike himself, were unable to surmount them.
Rising to the challenge of his personality, Julie answered with assurance. "Yes, I am rather. My friend and I were discussing comparative religions only this morning."
Two brown hands emerged from the folds of his robe, making a little arched temple of prayer against his chest.
"Salam a myhika," he breathed gently. The fumes of his curry-laden breath filtered through his pressed fingers.
"God be upon you. I am the swami Guram Zubri. A great purpose has led you to this place today. Let us talk, you and I."
Leaving her book still open on the counter, Julie followed the swami to a corner of the bazaar. A draped silken shawl covered a doorway. Holding it to one side, he beckoned Julie to enter. "Come," he told her, bowing slightly. "This is where the people of this place eat. They know me here."
The silken shawl rustled as Julie entered. A few tables and chairs were jammed into a small, dimly lit room. A faint red light glowed from a central wrought iron hanging lamp. A teakwood Buddha sat obesely in a little shrine. Incense burned before the statue in a shining brass bowl.
The swami held a chair back for Julie at the nearest table. Seating himself opposite to her, he picked up a small brass bell from the center of the table and sent its shrill demand ringing through the scented room.
Before the sound had died away, the curtains parted once more and a young girl entered. Standing before the swami, she bowed her head in greeting over her folded hands.
"What can I do for you?" she said.
The swami inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Peace be upon you, my child."
Indicating the seated Julie with his hand, he continued. "Ghurem cha, jildi. We will take tea, my friend and I."
The girl left and returned almost immediately with two bowls of scented green tea.
Turning to Julie, she asked. "Would you like halvah?"
Not wishing to display her ignorance, Julie nodded her head.
He beamed upon her. "I am most pleased that your knowledge of our country is not confined to things spiritual. Halvah is one of the delights of the senses. Without the senses, it would be impossible for man to reach the sublimity of true understanding. But why should I relate these things to one whose dress alone indicates understanding of the mysteries."
As he spoke, his eyes flickered toward her half-revealed breasts. The eyelids seemed to hood over, snakelike. The darker brown of the folded skin under his brows seemed to accentuate the gleam of his deep set eyes.
Julie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She felt it difficult to reconcile religion and mysticism with the exhibition of her thrusting tits.
The curtain parted again and the girl returned with a plate heaped high with a pyramid of white confection.
Reaching for one of the succulent wedges, Julie sank her teeth into it experimentally. The smooth mixture of sesame seed, sugar and ground nuts melted in the warmth of her mouth like a snow-hall in the heat of the sun. A cloying sweetness permeated her whole being.
The swami watched her reaction with interest, re they to your satisfaction, mem?" he asked her solicitously.
"Oh, they are wonderful," Julie breathed. If the revelations of Eastern mysticism could be related to the taste of halva, Julie felt that she was going to enjoy this experience.
He continued his appraisal of her over the rim of his tea bowl.
"Now tell me," he commanded. "What is it that causes the lines of self-doubt around your pretty blue eyes?"
He reached across the table and ran his fingers over Julie's soft face.
"The eyes mirror the soul and I see that your soul is unhappy."
A penetrating wave of power seemed to emanate from his stroking fingers. Peace and a feeling of being touched by healing forces oozed through the girl as the soft brown fingers found their way to her temple. The swami's voice droned on as he stroked her brow.
"There is peace and forgiveness in God. One must expose all before him. I am his appointed servant. Cleanse yourself of all temporal troubles by revealing your inner being to me."
As if hypnotized, Julie heard herself telling him of all that had happened since she had arrived in Los Angeles. How she had longed for a deep cultural/religious/emotional experience and ended up sucking cocks. Her eyes flickered shut as she related how she felt about getting laid, and thus becoming an emotionally capable woman. She told him how she had caressed cocks, breathing on them to make them spring to life, and how all the owners had ever wanted was to ram them down her protesting throat.
"I've tried," she told him with a sob in her voice. "I've tried every way I know how. It's beautiful to feel the surge of life containing sperms surging through your mouth." Her voice broke as she felt the sympathy of the man before her. "But how can I become an emotionally stable woman until I've been laid. I'm seventeen and I'm still a virgin."
His reaction to this was electric.
"My dear child," he questioned her sharply, "did you say that you had sucked the male member and yet had never taken it within your yoni? That you are still a virgin?"
Julie nodded her head shamefacedly.
"Yes, swami," she whispered crestfallen. "I am beginning to think that I am not good enough to screw in men's eyes."
He stood up and walked around the table. Taking her shoulders in both hands, he let his eyes bore into hers.
"Providence has indeed guided your footsteps here today. It is written that only in the unknowing, can absolute truth be found. Do you have any family or are you alone in this place?"
Julie looked up at him through the tears in her eyes. "I am quite alone," she admitted. "I only came here a couple of days ago."
Swami Guram Zubri relaxed and nodded his head contentedly. "So be it. You must join my little group immediately."
"But my clothes, and my friend Lennie that I told you about."
"These are worldly considerations," he told her. "We will arrange for your admission to the Zen Veda Society immediately. I will see that a car is procured for our conveyance there."
Turning to the table, he rang the bell again. The girl responded almost immediately and stood waiting for the swami to speak.
"Ask brother Lar Meer to attend me, child." The girl obeyed the command and left the room. The silken drapes fell into place behind her as if marking the closing of an important passage in Julie's life.
She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the feeling of inevitability that swept over her. There was such a commanding certainty that seemed to flow from the presence of swami Guram Zubri that even if she had wanted to, Julie felt powerless to influence the forces of destiny that had overtaken her.
He sat opposite her, eating halvah and surveying her through his snake-lidded eyes.
The drapes rustled again and Julie looked up see a young man standing beside them. He folded his hands and greeted them.
"Peace be upon you, swami."
As Julie looked at him, she was reminded of a clean-cut surfer. Tight jeans stretched across his athletic, muscular legs.
"You sent for me?" the young man added.
"I did." The guru's glance fell upon the young man's jeans and open-necked shirt.
"But why are you wearing this occidental clothing?" he asked curtly. "You are entitled to the purple robe and should wear it with dignity."
The young man's voice was assured as he answered. "I am living in the world outside the temple, swami Zubri," he told him. "When I mix with others and do my missionary work, I try to show them that it is possible for ordinary people to attain a state of grace and nirvana. If I dress like them, they feel that I am like them."
The guru held up his hand for silence. "Enough, enough, you are a faithful devotee and reason well. Now you must drive this young lady and I to Cocunga Canyon. She will be inducted into the society tonight."
Brother Lai Meer looked at Julie with interest. Despite the Indian-sounding name, he was obviously an all-American boy. Julie judged him to be around a hundred and ninety pounds of firm muscular flesh. Though he wore his curly blond hair in a flowing mane over his shoulders, he had the well-scrubbed look of an ex-football player. Julie thought that if the religion attracted many like him, it must have something to commend it.
A slow smile broke over his face as he sensed Julie's scrutiny.
His voice was cultivated and even as he addressed her.
"Hi there. Let me introduce myself."
He held a large hand out for Julie to shake. Swami Zubri has already told you my name bin the society. Before I became enlightened I was called Roddy MacGowan. I am one of the priests and I do work among the kids here."
He swept his hand behind him towards the sound of the rock music that penetrated the silk-screened door.
Many of them are approaching a state of understanding and are nearly ready for admission. By leeway, what's your name?"
Julie told him. Her eyes took in the assured masculinity of his stance.
That's nice," he acknowledged. "Though we'll have to find a new one for you after the ceremony."
He turned to the guru, who sat watching them both motionlessly.
"But, swami," he said, "This is certainly a wild-looking chick. How do you know that she's suited to the understanding of our beliefs without a period of instruction and discipline?"
The swami looked at him indulgently. The hooded eyelids seemed to slip back and reveal an almost carnal anticipation in the depths of his unfathomable brown eyes.
"You doubt my wisdom, my son." His voice was butter soft as he spoke. "However, I shall excuse your presumption and let you rejoice in my discovery." He turned theatrically towards Julie as he announced, "This vessel has not been sullied by the prodding lusts of man. She is a virgin and will be ordained as the high priestess of our cult tonight. Into her pure white body, we shall pour the very essence of our searching souls."
Roddy's voice was far from humble as he replied, "Woweeeee, she can have a gut full of my essence right here now. This is one vessel that I'm going to enjoy filling."
He wrenched his eyes away from Julie's half-exposed tits and tried to stifle the excitement in his voice.
"Excuse my excitement, Julie," he continued in a more even tone. "But a situation like this is enough to make even a saint lose his cool. You are a very lucky chick, believe me, being accepted by the swami Zubri. He will cultivate your mind and discipline your body until you are worthy of a place within the enlightened circle of our society. I'll lay on some wheels and whisk you up to the retreat before he changes his mind."
Bowing again to the guru, he turned on his heel and left the room. The guru offered the last half-wedge of halvah to Julie. He studied her moving red lips as she sucked on the succulent morsel.
His voice was hardly audible over the moist sucking sounds of Julie's mastication. "You must make allowance for my young friend. At his age, it is difficult to separate the carnal from the spiritual. There is such a fine line of division that it takes much discipline to walk the tightrope of the senses. I will give you exercises in disassociation very soon."
His voice droned on, filling the scented room with its phrases. Julie abandoned herself to the comforting sound of his voice, aware more of the assured tone of his voice than of the wisdom of his words. Time lost its meaning as she closed her eyes and relaxed under the verbal massage of her impressionable mind. The flow of the swami's words stopped, and Julie opened her eyes to find Roddy standing in the doorway.
"Excuse me, swami," he interrupted. "I am parked at a red curb. The pigs have such a temporal attitude towards those things. Let's go, should we?"
The swami stood up and gathered his robes around him. The trio swept through the draped curtain and out into the noisy throng of the bazaar.
Julie and Rod followed in his wake as the hippie crowd parted to allow him through. His right hand was raised in blessing, as his tight esthetic lips murmured a benediction.
"Peace upon you, my children. Peace upon you."
Julie blinked as they emerged into the bright sunlight. Drawn up at the red curb, a black Cadillac shimmered in the heat of the California sun. Roddy darted forward and held the door open for Zubri to enter. The brown, alien flesh of his legs snowed for a moment as he bent forward to insinuate himself into the luxury of the car. Seating himself in the expensive-smelling upholstery of the back seat, he beckoned Julie to sit beside him.
Julie felt the cold snake-like intensity of his eyes as they riveted on the soft firmness of her hash tits. Her blouse fell open as she stooped into she confines of the Cadillac. Self-consciously, she seated herself at the opposite end of the seat away from him. His plump, oily hand insinuated itself along the length of the cushions until it rested on her thigh.
"There, my dear, you are still a prisoner of your bodily awareness. You have a long .path to follow." He spoke persuasively as he gently patted the yielding flesh of her thigh. "But, I, Zubri, shall be personally responsible for your passage aver the razor's edge of understanding."
Roddy slammed the driving door shut and settled behind the wheel. He spoke over his shoulder as he turned the ignition key on.
"Let's leave the instructions until we're out at the canyon, revered one. You know that they are out to bust us. If they found you giving instructions to a young broad in the middle of the street in bright daylight, they wouldn't let the opportunity pass. The police mind works on a much lower level than yours does and they'd swear that you were having an orgy on the back seat."
The swami nodded and withdrew his hand from the moist crotch of Julie's panties.
"You are right, as so often happens in things temporal. I am afraid that my holy mind is incapable of functioning along the gutter level of common mentality. Drive on, Roddy, my wise disciple. Drive on to the Retreat and an aura of sanctity and enlightenment."
For a moment, Julie thought that she detected a sensuality in the implacability of the swami's fleshy Hindu face. Dismissing the thought as unworthy, she turned toward him.
"What will happen when we get to the Retreat, swami?" she asked trusting and childlike. "Will there be a long period of instruction before I am allowed to enter into understanding?"
The swami turned to her. His eyes seemed to make a veil, hiding his thoughts from her with Eastern inscrutability.
"No, Julie," he reassured her. "In your particular case,I believe that the period of instruction can be kept to a minimum. The mechanics of devotion you are already conversant with. A little instruction in the doctrine of surrender of self to the universal love will be needed. But your mind seems to match the pliability of your young and pliant body. I see no great difficulty ahead of us."
He raised his voice to include Roddy in the conversation. "I assume that the firm rod of truth can be applied to the orifice of this child's understanding before the sun brightens the rim of another day."
Roddy diverted his attention from the road ahead for a moment and turned to look at the swami.
"If you mean that she gets it before the night's out," he answered enthusiastically, "I'll go along with that one-hundred percent."
The swami shuddered delicately. "This is a spiritual matter of great beauty and delicacy." His eyes were reproachful as he looked at Roddy. "If you insist on being so carnal before the light of this child's understanding is lit, I'm afraid that you are unworthy of tutoring her and the whole responsibility shall fall upon my shoulders."
Roddy controlled himself with a visible effort. "Don't be like that, swami. You know that I quenched the flame of earthly passion on entering thee holy order. Any screwing I do now is purely to release the flood of temporal energies towards a higher enlightenment."
He concentrated morosely on the traffic for a block or so before continuing.
"It's just that you seem to get to release all the young worthwhile chicks from their carnal tensions while all I ever get is the old broads, like Mrs. Ogglethorpe, with their lifetime subscriptions. I know that their needs are as great, if not greater than the young, good-looking devotees. I can't help looking forward to sowing the seed of universal love in less plowed ground than Elsie Ogglethorpe, can I? I mean, you know what I mean, don't you?" He looked hopefully at his spiritual leader.
The swami nodded sagely. "Yes, I do indeed know what you mean. When I first came over here with nothing but a dream and a bottle of the sacred Ganges water to start my mission among the spiritual deserts of California, I too, had much hard work to do among the unenlightened. Money was needed for the holy work. The devotees that could afford to. pay for individual tuition were usually old and ugly. When next you look upon the splendor of our temple, think how it was raised, stone upon stone, by the sweat of my brow. It was a lesson in iron discipline that you could profit by. However, you have served both the cause and the elderly ladies of our circle. You have served them well. I will share the instruction of our new high priestess as a reward for your devotion."
Roddy's reply seemed out of place among the aura of sanctity that permeated the interior of the car.
"Atta-boy, swami. I knew that you would come through with some young cunt if I just kept humping."
Julie's attention was diverted from the conversation by a change in the rhythm of the car's progress.
As they had been talking, the car had left Hollywood and sped along the Hollywood Freeway. Filtering left, they had emerged onto the Ventura Freeway. Passing Sepulveda and on through the San Fernando Valley, they left the Santa Monica Mountains far behind. Effortlessly, the Cadillac gathered speed as they breasted the slight rise at Calabasas and dropped down into the gentle rolling hills beyond. They were now some thirty miles out of the density of Los Angeles and the only homes visible were expensive ranches with graceful trees dotted about their park-like grounds.
Occasionally, a distant horse and rider could be seen against the green backdrop of hills, reminding Julie of the history of the area and how the proud Spanish settlers had once ridden about the rancheros that now lay forgotten among the bustle of American life. The very names on the freeway signs seemed to speak of the old Spanish influence.
The foreign-sounding place names stuck to her tongue like glue. A big, green freeway sign, with Tujunga Canyon emblazoned across it in huge white letters flashed by them.
Tapping Roddy on the shoulder, Julie asked him, "How do you pronounce that one, Roddy?" He peered into the rearview mirror and eased the car across the highway and into the slow lane before answering.
"The 'J' becomes 'H' in Spanish. 'TuImnga' would be understandable." Another sign came into sight bearing the legend "Malibu Canyon." Roddy slowed the car to fifty before he spoke again.
"You'd better get used to the sound of it. The Retreat lies between Tujunga and Malibu canyons. The approach road, which is called Concunga Canyon runs off Malibu. It's very isolated and you'll be able to disassociate yourself from all worldly corruption and feel the peace of perfect understanding enter into you. Along with one or two other things," he added softly as he swung the car into the off ramp. Within minutes, they had left the disturbing influence of civilization far behind them, and Julie surrendered herself to the healing balm of the surrounding countryside. Gentle rolling meadows and softly undulating hills alternated with towering rocky crags, windswept and untamed, tumbling and broken, slashing the horizon of the blue California sky. Here and there, a dusty unpaved road ran from the highway and disappeared into the folds of the brown mountains. Roddy drove for another ten minutes along the curved main road. Then he slowed and made an abrupt right turn before stopping at a locked gate.
A curved stone arch soared above it bearing a gold-lettered sign.
Meditative Center of the Church of Universal Love Principal-The Most Holy Swami Guram Zubri Trespassers Beware. Patrolled by Guard Dogs Roddy selected a key from his ring, unlocked the gate and drove the car through. He locked up carefully behind him.
Julie felt the swami's oily hand running along her leg again.
"This is a great privilege for you, my dear. I hope that you are going to enter into the spirit of our little community and give yourself fully."
Julie nodded her head and smiled up at him trustingly. "As soon as I understand what they are, I will."
The holy man beside her smiled. "Not what they are. Just remember who they are and you will not go unnoticed. If you care to study the sign above the gateway, you will see that I am mentioned."
Julie smiled obediently, without trying to follow the torturous workings of his Asian mind. Her interest lay in the countryside that unfolded itself beyond the car window.
They had turned into a spur of broken mountain side that hid the main road from view. It was as if they had been transported across thousands of miles to an entirely different continent. All the motion pictures that Julie had ever seen about India seemed to be coming to life in front of her.
Barefooted people of all ages seemed to be converging out of the hills onto the dusty road, where they were driving. Some were dressed in plain white robes that streamed loosely behind them as they walked. Others, usually of a more serious mien, wore robes of different hues. Purple, red and yellow garments winked like exotic butterflies among the knots of white.
All the mystery and glamor of the East seemed to be captured and offered to Julie's eager gaze. Julie watched as a sari-clad woman was jostled aside by a humpbacked Brahma cow. Its dhotti-clad herdsman goaded it off the dusty road as his eager eyes penetrated the gauze of the woman's dress.
As the car drew close to them, the people paused and turned, seemingly hypnotically aware swami, so close to them. A low murmur, like the sound of a breaking wave, ran along them as they knelt in the dust of the road. "Swami... Swami Most Holy Zubri." The faces pressed up close to the window of the crawling Despite their sunburn, their features were obviously Caucasian beneath the tan and grime. Hands reached out in supplication towards the proud Indian figure, leaning back among the cushions of the Cadillac. "Holy One. Give to us from the wealth of your understanding." A mask of benign enlightenment seemed to slip into place over the guru's face as he raised his hands in blessing. He wound the window down and leaned out as he spoke. "Peace upon you, my faithful people, There will be a reward for your labors in the fields of truth shortly."
He gestured towards Julie as he continued. "I bring into the temple, the priestess of whom I have spoken. The pure, untouched vessel, therein we can sow the seed of eternal brotherhood. Behold her before you."
His hand was tight upon her arm, as Julie felt herself being forced to the car window. The white purity of her blonde beauty shone like a light among the dusty crowd in front of her.
A rapturous murmur broke from the crowd as if it had one throat. "When ... when, oh Holy One?"
Julie felt the intensity of their fervor engulfing her, as if some strong wind had passed over her body, stripping her and leaving her naked to the many-eyed searching of the crowd.
Instinctively she raised her hands, cupping them around her boobs. Her breasts thrust forward, taut against the transparency of her blouse.
Angrily, the swami reached around her and seized her hands in a grip of iron. His voice flowed, ice cold with fury from between his compressed lips.
"How dare you," he spat at her. "How dare you disappoint my people."
Reaching around her, he took one lapel of her blouse in each of his hands. His mouth pressed close to her ear.
"Now you will display yourself to them fully."
The flimsy material of her blouse parted beneath the pull of the swami's hands, and a dull roar of approval came from the gaping crowd.
Julie's firm, pink-tipped knockers, free and un-confined, seemed to thrust their way at the open mouths that screamed hysterically at the sight of her soft, young flesh.
The guru reached around her, so that the texture ' of his cotton robe registered on her bare back as he opened the car.
"Out of the car," he ordered through a swirling haze of embarrassment.
Unable to resist the command in his voice, Julie found herself standing on the dusty road as the holy man left the car and joined her.
The hot California sun beat upon her naked tits. The heat seemed to set her on fire. It sunk below the white surface of her flesh, burning out her inhibitions and reluctance.
Compliantly, she turned to face her mentor, half expecting his next command.
"Now, my little shy fawn," he whispered softly, "Remove the rest of your clothing. There is no immodesty in revelation. You shall walk, clothed in beauty alone, into your new life."
Dutifully, as if in a dream, Julie found herself reaching around to unzip the tight miniskirt.
The crowd had fallen silent and the slight rustle of the skirt, sliding over her hips, sounded like it had come from a world totally removed from all she had ever felt before. Seeking some point of reference, she tried to think of one known thing that would establish the world that she knew. She felt the world of reality was rapidly slipping away from her like sand through her fingers. Turning away from the eager circle of strangers who surrounded her, she sought out the friendly face of Roddy MacGowan. Roddy sat grinning in the front seat of the Cadillac. His blue eyes leered at her from under his shock of blond hair. His face was lit by a momentary smile before his eyes slid down her body, fondling her tits like fingers. Down over the swelling roundness of her stomach, his eyes fastened like in twin leeches on the plump Vee of her crotch. As if in telepathic communication with Zubri, Julie heard him speak again.
"And now if you will be so kind, the pantyhose.
Take them off." There was a certainty underlying the softness of his voice.
Julie inserted her fingers under the elastic waist of the tightly clinging panties and rolled them down until they hung in tight folds on her succulent, plump thighs. Standing on one foot, she reached over to ease her foot out of its nylon mesh. The enticing rotundity of her ass gleamed whitely in the revealing brightness of the sunlight. The twin cones of her tits swung gently as she shrugged out of her last flimsy covering.
Straightening up, she turned to face the crowd around her. Like an actress performing a well-rehearsed part, she felt a flow of familiarity surge through her, stifling all embarrassment of her nudity. It was as if she truly believed herself to be the pure, sacred vessel that had come into these people's lives as the focal point of all their dreams and aspirations. Raising her hands above her head, she pirouetted slowly in front of them so that not a single detail of her naked body was hidden from their eager, searching eyes.
Soft hissing came from the watchers as they slowly let their pent-up breath escape from their constricted throats. One by one, the multitude dropped to their knees in the dust of the road. With their eyes riveted on her, each individual reacted in his own different way. Some knelt with uncovered heads, a low moan of ecstasy and anticipation bubbling out from between their slack working lips. Others broke into a babble of conflicting prayers, wrenching their eyes away from Julie's beauty to the swami, who stood behind her.
"Thank you. Thank you, Blessed One, for hearing our needs and bringing the truth of this child's body before us."
The swami held his hand up in benediction.
"Did I not promise you?" he questioned them benignly. "Did I not affirm that if you gave all of your worldly possessions and left the filth of commerce behind you, that one day you would see true beauty. You have obeyed me and now the truth of unutterable divinity is yours to share. Leave one and another, obey your guru and the gates of paradise shall be opened unto you." Julie looked at the faces as they merged into one crowded entity. With an effort of will, she was able to see individuals out of the crowd. Separating them into sharp, isolated focus, each face resembled the person whose emotions showed so plainly in front of her. Here was a young girl, who stood by her thinness and a tall aloofness from the details of life. A flower child, progressed beyond the hippie stage, seeking a purpose in the mysticism of Eastern religion.
Near to her, the sharp features of an ascetic young man of twenty-five years or so, came to Julie's sight, as he devoured the perfection of her breasts with devout eyes. He appeared to have discovered the blinding flash of truth in mathematic equations through the soft angles of Julie's firm An elderly woman reached out to touch her. Her face was inscrutable as she whispered, "She is indeed perfect, I must explore the body further until I reach the mystery of her mind." An old man, whose straggling beard heightened the goat-like appearance of his face, fondled his limp penis as he riveted his eyes on Julie's round ass. A thin dribble of spit ran from the corner of his mouth. "If I can commune with her just once," the old man said earnestly, "I shall pass on with a full reward."
Guram Zubri raised his hand for silence. "You seen the promise of your priestess. The hand of eternity has formed her perfection. She must not be sullied by earthly things outside the temple. No part of her precious purity must be soiled. Therefore, lay your devoted bodies upon the contamination earth and let her approach the temple on an insulating carpet of your yielding forms. Down. Down I say and let her walk upon you, to her destiny."
Jostling each other in the intensity of their obedience, the faithful ones flung themselves down in a long line, which stretched the distance of the road.
Taking Julie's hand, the swami helped Julie mount the living carpet of bodies and led her solemnly forward towards the shapes of buildings, which were shimmering through the heat at the far end of the road.
Holding Guram Zubri's hand, Julie wobbled her way forward. Her feet sunk into the soft pliancy of bodies as she walked. After she strode over the forms, they would rise and run eagerly to await their turn again at the end of the living welcoming carpet.
Carefully, Julie avoided treading on any upturned faces.
"Do not be afraid of hurting them, my child," Zubri said. "Pain purifies. Those who lay on their stomachs with their faces hidden, feel that they are not yet worthy of you. Ignore them. They are merely aids to your progress. The others, who stare up at you as you pass over them, need to pay for the temerity. Press heavily with your feet as you pass over them. Make them pay for their needs and they will be all the more grateful."
Listening to the guru's advice, Julie ignored the bodies beneath her and kept her eyes fastened on the complex of buildings that were coming into view as the road turned to the protective spur of the hills. A low groan of pain broke from lips of an elderly man as Julie's heel ground into his groin. His balls seemed to squelch juicily under her instep. The swami nodded his approval. "Take your time with him." His eyes gleamed maliciously as he spoke. "See how he stares at your maidenhood as your legs open above him. He needs to pay for the privilege. Put one foot before the other, and miss not an inch of him as you go."
As Julie stepped on the man's bulging gut, she felt like she was walking on uncooked sausage as it squelched loosely under her feet. Thankfully, Julie stepped onto his flaccid chest. It was little better. The fatty tissue of his almost feminine breasts slipped under the pressure of her feet. The firm footing of his rib cage rippled like the corrugations on a wave-washed beach.
The red slit of Julie's twat minced daintily above his staring face as her foot came down heavily upon it. His eyes pierced upwards, unblinking and unflickering, until his view was blocked by the undulating roundness of her ass as she passed beyond him and onto the next prostrate body. Rising as soon as he could see no more, he rubbed the sweat of sexual excitement out of his eyes and dashed to the head of the line for more.
Julie progressed further and further along the line with the help of the swami's steadying hand, Some bore her pressure stoically. Others groaned in ecstasy or pain. But all awaited her coming with delight. Some, in an excess of religious fervor or sexual torment, reached out to pull her down upon them, ready to spear her passing body on their stiff erections that seemed to sprout like weeds from the supine mounds of flesh. The swami was delighted with the reactions. He forced her to pay particular attention to the more demanding devotees.
"Walk firmly upon them," he crowed. "Make them pay. Let them earn the privilege of viewing your beauty."
As if in a dream, Julie again felt the living flesh beneath her as she walked.
The car suddenly started up in the distance behind her, and she heard Roddy calling the swami.
"Do you want me to drive the Cadillac over them, too, or is that carrying it a bit too far?"
There was anger in the swami's voice as he answered. "Do not scoff, my son. This is an occasion of deep significance for my people."
Swami Guram Zubri seemed to choose to ignore Roddie's muttered reply. "It would have an even deeper significance for Julie if she slipped and sat on one of those hard dongs she's striding over." Roddy pointed to a long-haired young man wearing a red robe. His huge, hard rod seemed to force the material upwards like a circus tent.
"Look at that bastard there. He's built like a bull. She's ruined if she falls on that guy's prick," Roddy warned.
The swami followed Roddy's pointed hand and rubbed his hands appreciatively.
"The novice monk is indeed blessed with a massive yang. The swami Krishna teaches us that life is centered in the penis. That is a very holy young man. I shall elevate him to monk, third class, and let him attend to the instructions of some of our more carnally inclined sisters."
As if tossing Roddy a bone, he continued. "It would also free you from some of your more burdensome duties with the elderly devotees. You can then assist me with the initiation of our new priestess."
Roddy slammed the car door shut and ran up the path to take Julie's other hand.
"Here, let me help," Roddy offered. "I don't want any accidents before the ceremony." Roddy smiled reassuringly at Julie. "We must keep you pure in body as well as in mind. The swami will explain surrender to you while I look after the mechanics."
The swami's unfathomable brown eyes flickered across Julie's bouncing tits and came to rest on Roddy's face.
"Be not presumptuous, my young friend. First, I must impregnate her with the seed of all embracing understanding. Her first holy communion will be experienced when the bursting sperms of my sacred yang pour down her yielding throat. Only when my essence had entered into her living body will she be in a state of grace and beyond corruption by sexual experience. Only then will you be allowed to commune with this angel of purity. Do not attempt to alter that which is written in our society's creed. In other words ..."
As they argued across her naked body, the procession had come to the end of the path and into a courtyard. Julie's first impression of the Indian influence when the car first stopped among the strangely garbed disciples of this faith, now seemed nothing compared to the feeling she now had on gazing at the sight before her.
All traces of contemporary American life had been left far behind in this setting of coolly slashing fountains, strutting peacocks and deeply shaded Oriental arched courts.
At the head of a huge plaza, a mosque-like temple stood stark and white in the sunlight. A golden cupola gleamed over the building. Heavy iron grills at the slitted windows gave it an air of impenetrable sanctity. At right angles, and forming two sides to the courtyard, ran long rows of buildings. They were obviously dormitories for the sect members.
Closing off the square was a huddle of palm-thatched native stalls, where the clamor of many voices indicated the sharp bargaining over the exotic goods on display. Stalls piled high with handmade brass ware stood next to others. A small, naked girl shyly offered bunches of flowers.
Noticing Julie's astonishment, Zubri explained to her. "I attempt to create the Eastern attitudes here. It is important that the body should live in an Indian atmosphere for the mind to understand the principles of Hindu philosophy."
He waved his hand around the market place. "If the body knows of hunger and the harshness of life, it helps the mind to take wings and soar towards the principles of Nirvana and a reward in the after life that is rarely found in the present one." He smiled depreciatingly. "There are of course exceptions. Some of us have sharpened our understanding through study and application and are able to delight out senses in our present."
He halted Julie as she was about to step off the last of her living carpet and go into the dust of the courtyard.
"Stop. Your feet will not be profaned by the dust of this place."
He clapped his hands. "Gharri wallahs. A conveyance for the priestess."
In answer to his summons, two muscular young men ran down the short flight of steps that led to the main door of the temple. Disappearing for a moment into the concealment of an archway at the foot of the stairs, they emerged with a heavily-carved wooden sedan chair.
The carvings represented coital positions.
Roddy steadied Julie as she mounted her throne of blatant sexuality from which she would reign.
"Here in the States, we call it plain fucking. But the Indians have got it down to a fine art. Look at what this pair are doing. With a chick's legs in that position, up is the only way to go."
His pointing finger indicated one of the sets of figures detailed on the chair's carvings. The man was naked,, with the girl's feet entwined around his neck. Her body was bent upwards, forming a tight U. Her hands grasped behind his head while she sat upon his hands, which were cupped in front of him. Spreading the cheeks of her ass apart, he had worked his massive tool deep into her contorted cunt. Her mouth was open in a shuddering cry that seemed to echo out of the static wood of the carving. A grin of utter satisfaction spread across the carved face of the man that grasped her to him.
"Oh, my God," breathed Julie. "Can you really do it that way?"
"It takes practice," Roddy admitted. "But it can be done. It's called the second flower basket position. It took me three weeks of training, but I managed it once. I didn't realize that I'd slipped a disc until after I came four times. Fantastic!"
Trembling with suppressed excitement, Julie lowered herself onto the red silken upholstery of the golden chair. The juices from her twitching pussy left a dark, mouth-like stain upon the fabric of the cushion.
The swami clapped his hands again and the muscular backs of the bearers rippled as they lifted the sedan onto their shoulders.
"Act the part," Roddy whispered to her as she swayed to the motion of the moving chair. "Remember that you are a priestess and the chosen of the swami."
Julie smiled down at him as she straightened her back, forcing her breast muscles to tighten and thrust the perfect sharpness of her bouncing boobs forward until they seemed to live a life of their own, completely detached from the support of her shapely body.
"The legs," Roddy advised her. "Don't cross them. Keep them open and apart. There must be no concealment. That is only for the uninitiated whose minds dwell upon the flesh. You must think of spiritual matters and not worry whether your pussy is showing. Let it all hang out but look unconcerned."
Obediently, Julie spread her legs apart, allowing the ripe pinkness of her untouched pussy meat to gleam moistly through the sparse covering of her golden fringe of pubic hair.
A dull rumbling roar arose from the watching crowd. "Welcome, golden goddess. See how her holy mind rises above the things of the flesh. She is indeed pure and unknowing."
On the fringe of the crowd, his back pressed against a stall displaying Indian brass ware, a bearded man beat his meat. The stall swayed and pulsated in time to his frantically working hand. The little brass bells, strung around the stall, tinkled. The sound carried sweetly above the roar of the crowd.
Julie smiled down at Roddy. "It all sounds so Oriental, doesn't it?" she asked. "Can you hear how they are ringing little prayer bells to welcome me?"
Roddy squinted up at her quizzically. "Yes, something like that."
Julie thrust her tits out still further. "No, don't spoil it. I really mean it. I feel as if I belong here. As if it were ordained or something. It's like- coming home."
As he walked at the head of the procession, the swami's sharp ears heard and a smile played about his equinine features as he mounted the steps towards the dark secrecy of the shadowy temple doorway.
CHAPTER SIX
The cloying odor of incense seemed to wrap around Julie's senses like a cloak as she was carried through the portals of the temple. A cool peace flooded through her mind, detaching her from any awareness of strangers in this unusual setting.
As if telepathically aware of her feelings, the swami spoke as he helped her to dismount from the sedan.
"You, too, can feel the peace of this holy place. It is good that you do. From now on, all your preconceived occidental hangups shall be set apart and you will enter the new concept of life. But first, the ritual bath to cleanse you of any lingering traces of the outside world impurities."
Taking her by the hand, he led her through the coolness of the echoing temple. Selecting a large key from a bunch at his waist, he unlocked a heavy oak door set flush into the wall behind an elaborate altar.
Holding up his hand, he stopped Roddy as he was about to follow them inside. "You know that is the sacred precepts of the chosen women. I, Zubri, am the only male allowed to enter. Such is the purity of my mind that I can lay with the sisters without sullying them. You will wait until I call you."
The door shut with a heavy finality behind Julie and Zubri. They were in a sunlit courtyard. A fountain splashed like flung diamonds into an enticing lily-covered pool. Fragrant flowing trees screened the doors and windows of low-roofed buildings that surrounded the court. The rise and fall of soft girlish talk and laughter flowed through the open windows. Erotically detailed statues of voluptuous young women were set among the trees and shrubs. In the center of the courtyard stood an empty stone pedestal.
Motioning Julie to mount, the swami positioned Julie's body until she had formed the position of Mushra, the Indian Goddess of Fertility.
"Wait," he cautioned her. "I will call your handmaidens."
Kneeling before her, he commenced to chant in a high, sing-song voice. The laughter stopped in the looms beyond and the patter of bare feet sounded on the rough stones of the pathways.
Zubri rose to face the crowd of women that surrounded him. "Down and give your greetings to the Awaited One. This is the Priestess of the Dawn that the Holy Writings said would come amongst Placing his hand upon the heads of two young girls, he led them forward. "You are both the handmaidens of the priestess. You will attend her at all times and perform all mundane functions her. When she itches, you will scratch her. When she hungers, you shall feed her. When she excretes, you shall wipe her with consecrated rose petals. Her every wish is your command. Obey her in all and prove your worth, so that you, too, one day shall rise to the heights of priestesses."
The two girl children came towards Julie shyly. The immature forming breasts swelled softly from their still boyish figures. Their shining hair hung down the childish backs, falling away as they bent low before Julie.
"Welcome, Priestess. We have been told of your coming."
Their hands joined in the charming Hindu gesture of supplication. Eyeing Julie over the pointed fingers of their arched hands, they looked wise beyond their years.
"And now," the swami said, "you may meet the women of the temple."
He stepped aside to indicate about ten women of various ages, ranging from the two girls barely into puberty to two lusty brunette beauties, who seemed to be twins about twenty-five years of age.
Within the range of the ten or so women, the swami seemed to have included most physical types. The coloring changed from the pearl white of a petite redhead to a kinky-haired Negress. A sloe-eyed, diminutive Japanese girl walked across the temple courtyard with dainty steps. Her firm olive-tinged buttocks seemed to make a gyrating movement to accommodate her cross-legged style of walking. Her tiny breasts stood firm like ripe lemons. The pink-tipped nipples were like the vestiges of the fruit flower petals as they puckered into little buttons.
Giggling, the group of girls helped Julie down.
"And now," the Negress' deep resonant voice came to Julie over the chatter of the rest of the girls, "we must take you to the pool where you will have your ritual bath. All girls who enter our order, whether they be full priestesses like you are, or novice nuns like your attendants, must be cleansed of all traces of the outside world to make them fit vessels for the sacred seed of the swami."
Already the pool was half full of laughing, splashing girls. Julie stepped over the flower-rimmed coping. The water was warm and scented by the jasmine leaves that the two young girls had thrown over the surface of the pool. Soft, eager hands lowered Julie into the water.
Guram Zubri sat on the rim of the pool, watching the girlish playfulness with a benign indulgence.
"It is good that you should laugh and be happy together," he said. "So many religions practice restrictions on their womenfolk. We Hindus are more appreciative of the sacred charge we exercise over you. After all, you are the receptacles of the holy force of life. Lips that are full and ripe with laughter perform well upon the pulsating penis of the faithful."
He snapped his fingers at a nubile girl in her early teens, who was floating on her back among the water lilies. The girl stood upright in the knee deep water. Sunlight glistened on the droplets as they coursed down her wet body. Water streamed from her thick dark hair, running over her full breasts and dripping reluctantly from her pouting, enticing nipples.
"Come, my little flower," the swami cooed, contradicting himself. "You are in a state of grace and understanding. One who is serious and does not indulge in the play of her more frivolous sisters should be rewarded."
He lifted the cotton robe and unwound the cloth from his middle, letting his brown-skinned dong rest in the palm of one hand.
"You may suck on the sacred yang of Guram Zubri while he watches the new priestess undergo her ablutions. If I decide that your thoughts are pure and your mouth worthy, I may reward you by allowing you to become one with my seed."
As if mesmerized, the girl strode through the water with her innocent brown eyes fastened on the brown dong that the swami held out to her enticingly.
Kneeling down in the water before him, she made the gesture of supplication with her clasped hands. Her voice was clear and flute like as she spoke.
"I am indeed honored, Revered One. That you should pick this unworthy vessel, out of all the others, to fill with your sweet-tasting sperms. My mouth yields to you, and my whole body cries for the glory of your ejaculations."
The swami cut her words short as he cupped her wet head in his hands, pushing it down until her searching mouth fastened upon his thrusting tool.
"Enough of the exultation and praise. Start sucking and remember the sacred words of all knowledge. Open your mouth wide and say 'OMMMMMMMMMM . .. OMMMMMMMMM . .. OMMMMMMMMMM."
Gently, he guided his prick over her arched tongue. Slipping its brown length down her throat, the kneeling girl continued the vibrating repetition of the single word.
Eagerly, she closed her mouth around the muscular intruder. Her tongue worked frantically around the sensitive glands at the snakelike head, while her lips sucked noisily at the gathered skin at the base of his prick. Shyly, her worried eyes peered up at him through her falling black hair to see whether she was giving satisfaction.
Unless the swami blessed her with his bursting climax, she knew that she would be classed as unworthy and sent out into the marketplace to be disposed of among the lesser priests. If she failed there, her youth and beauty would avail her little, and she would be sent into the fields to help grow the food for the more fortunate members of the sect, who knew how to extract the essence of sublimity from the end of a holy prick.
Noting her concern, the swami stroked her head encouragingly. "You do well for one so young. A little more with the tongue, though."
He took her hand and wrapped it around his tight scrotum.
"Stroke the pouch that hold the seeds of Krishna. May they take root in the garden of your soul. Keep sucking."
Shading his eyes from the sun, he settled back contentedly and let the girl perform with growing expertise on his sinuous member. The temple maidens frolicked in front of him. Clapping his hands for attention, he again interrupted the two naked children as they threw flower petals into the pool and over its lovely crew of sun-kissed bathers.
"The oil, little ones. Bring flagons of sweet-smelling oils so that the maidens may anoint your mistress."
The little girls curtsied and ran across the sun-drenched courtyard to obey.
The beady eyes of the swami followed them as they ran, carefree and innocent through the flowering bushes. The white flesh of their blossoming girlhood flashed like shy birds among the garish colors of the foliage.
Sagely, the swami muttered as if to himself. "Those two little morsels are ripening nicely. I must pluck the tender fruit of their innocence soon before one of my more carnally minded monks do it for me. They must not be sullied by lust while they are in my charge. Only my oil-anointed yang is fit to slide into the necks of such fragile vessels."
He glanced down at the young girl, who sucked his prick with devotional concentration.
"Good, good," he encouraged her. "Keep that sliding movement up as you roll your tongue around the sacred word of 'Om' and I may honor you by letting you swallow a mouthful of my illustrious sperms."
The girl nodded her head enthusiastically and renewed her efforts in anticipation of the swami's indulgence.
The young girl attendants returned, each bearing a handmade pitcher on her shoulder. Looking down at the elder girl as she devotedly licked the swami's prick, one gently plucked a flower from a nearby bush and placed it behind the guru's ear.
Her young voice was plaintive and petulant as she spoke. "It is not fair, Revered Swami. We work hard and serve you faithfully since you rescued us from the evils of Sunset Strip. But we did not run away from home just to be servants. When can we be honored as she is, by feeding upon the flow from your beautiful brown yang?"
Her companion jostled her out of the way. Her budding breasts shook with indignation as she reached to pull the older girl's head off the swami's prick.
"The others are always getting it. Why can't we have our turn? We know the prayers and the meaning of your blessed communion with the temple maidens. Our bodies burn with desire for your entrance. Take us. Right this minute."
Their eyes filled with tears as Guram Zubri held them away from the girl, who was still sucking with her head in his lap.
"It will come to you, my children. That I promise. I have been watching you and have decided that you are ready for a deeper penetration than can be gained through prayers and devotion. I will send for you later tonight perhaps and initiate you into the next step towards fulfillment. Go in peace now and enjoy the last day of your childhood. Before the sun rises tomorrow, you will be women and carrying the holy seed within you."
The girls bowed in gratitude of the swami's magnanimity. They ran off laughing, to offer the filled pitchers to the waiting bathers in overflowing pool.
Languorously, Julie lay back in the scented water and felt the hands of the other girls massaging the oils into her glowing skin.
"Bring her out," the swami commanded. "And cleanse her with oils while she lays here beside me."
Ten pairs of hands fastened gently under Julie's limp body and lifted her reverently onto the smooth coping beside the guru. Lifting her arms above her head and spreading her unresisting legs, they poured the viscous oil over her sleek body. Eager hands sought the intimacy of her, as they glided slickly over Julie's greased flesh. As some rubbed the crystal-clear fluid into the firm muscles of her stomach, others kneaded the plasticity of her breasts, letting the soft tissue slide through their fingers voluptuously. Gentle fingers tweaked the roseate circles of her aroused nipples until the flood of mounting desire coursed through Julie's panting body.
On the peaked crescents of her squirming need, Julie felt oiled hands slip inside her unresisting thighs. Opening her legs still further apart, her oil-slicked pussy shuddered with the stimulation of exploring fingers.
"Not inside," the guru announced firmly. "Cleanse her thoroughly, but do not penetrate too deeply. Her maidenhood must not be breached."
Eagerly, Julie arched her back and thrust her yearning pussy at her tormentors. Her hip jerked convulsively to the erotic stimulation of the eager, searching fingers. Her whole body, every fiber of her entire being, shrieked passionately under the unbearable ecstasy of the many-handed caresses. Knowing hands sought and found erotic areas that Julie had never dreamed existed in her hardly awakened young body. To have one, just one person, massage her so knowingly would have been unforgettable. But ten probing, tweaking, patting, caressing hands running over her writhing flesh simultaneously drove her beyond the point where she was conscious of anything in the world but the surge of her own mounting sea of sexuality.
In tune with her rising desires, the girls worked their soft fingers faster over Julie's pulsating body. Gentle hands circled her breasts, rubbing the firm flesh to a tense, nipple-pointed thrusting. The fruitlike, pink nipples slipped between oil-scented fingers as the delicate friction seared into her flesh like fire. Cool fingers played with the lobes of her ears, slipping inside the openings with an insistent probing as if they had found some small private pussy and were finger fucking it. Another hand played with her mouth, peeling back the lips until the soft, sensitive flesh of the underlips responded like the twitching lips of her vulva.
Every part of her body was receiving attention. Her neck, her navel, her armpits, the soles of her feet, every total inch of her was being stimulated. The agony that she was receiving from the fingers increased to an impossible degree, as the fingers played lovingly with her clit and petallic cunt.
The swami glowed with approval. "She is indeed in tune with Titrina, the Holy Love Goddess." He informed the world at large. "Look how she writhes in the fervor of her giving."
He stretched a foot towards her sweat-streaked face. The long toes were brown and set apart like prehensile fingers.
Softly, he addressed Julie. "Here you must have some communication with the All-Knowing Life Force in your climax. You may suck the toe of the Holy Swami Guram Krishna Zubri. I would offer you a more rewarding member, only it is being used by yet another disciple."
He gestured towards the eagerly sucking girl latched on the end of his penis.
"Now," he told the watchful circle of temple maidens, "we will all close our eyes and concentrate on deep things. Bring your priestess to her climax and purge her being of all past sexuality. I shall exercise my unlimited powers of concentration and gush forth for this deserving devotee, who works so hard for enlightenment."
Suiting the word to the deed, the swami screwed up his face, and in eye-closed concentration, surrendered himself to the twin suckings of Julie on his wriggling toe and the flickering tongue that ferreted under his stretched foreskin and danced gaily around his dribbling knob end.
The birds twittered noisily, breaking the reverent silence that descended upon the sun-drenched courtyard. A low moan of religious fervor spilled from the compressed lips of the guru. His hands snaked down and seized the girl's head in a grip of iron.
'Bless you my child. You are about to ... ahhh ... receive the gift of communication ... Ehhhhhhhh. By the Sacred Balls! That was a good one."
The girl convulsed as the steaming hot sperms gushed past her revolving tongue and gushed down her throat.
"Swallow them all down now," the swami admonished her. "That is the greater part of the holy mystery. In swallowing them, they become part of your being. Being assimilated into your flesh, they become part of your soul. Then your every thought is as one with the Almighty."
The girl sucked on the end of his now wilting penis with religious fervor. Drawing every last drop of the sacred fluid out of his system until he squirmed in discomfort. Twining his fingers in her black hair, he yanked her head away irritably.
"That's enough, for Christ sake! Leave some of the holy yang for those to follow. Away to your cell and concentrate upon the honor that has been afforded you."
As the girl reluctantly released his now flaccid tool from her mouth, Guram Zubri turned to the spectacle in front of him.
Under his gloating stare, Julie writhed in passion of her last few shattering seconds before climax. Mechanically, her mouth worked noisily upon the toes of the guru's foot. A smile played about her face as the girls brought her over the threshold and she crashed through her climax. The many-handed masturbation flooded her with a drenching release that poured from her in hot, spurting torrents. A tense, strangled sob broke from her as she rammed the guru's foot into her mouth.
"I am free. Freeeeeee. This is not sex, but communication with the gods." The swami nodded. "I knew that you would understand. Only through the shell of our flesh, can we strive for heaven."
His head sank onto his chest as he slept the sleep of the righteous. The girls dried the exhausted Julie with dried flower petals and led her off to her quarters.
Passing through a Moorish arch, the patter of their footsteps echoed down a shaded corridor. Shafts of yellow sunlight cut across the blue shadows from the outside courtyard, which was framed by the beautifully proportioned colonnaded walkway. The terracotta tiled passage way was about twelve feet wide with doorways into the cool, inviting cells of the young women. At the head of the corridor, an elaborately carved screen obscured yet another arched doorway.
The little procession of girls stopped as they reached the screened entrance.
Releasing Julie, they motioned her forward. "There are your private quarters. Only the High Priestess may enter here. We must wait until you bid us enter at your need."
The two younger attendants thrust their way forward. "But not us, " they insisted. "We are her personal attendants, and as such, we will be with her at all times. You heard the swami say so."
Grasping Julie eagerly by each hand, they drew her forward, around the screen and through the oriental entrance.
Once again, Julie had the feeling of straying Into a film set. This time she felt she had walked into a production of the Arabian Nights. The walls were draped luxuriously with tapestry which portrayed scenes from the Decameron.
Men and women writhed in every conceivable manner of sexual embrace against the rich silken sheen of the cloth. The room was huge and lofty, subtly hued lighting bathed the area from wrought iron hanging lamps. Placed haphazardly an the tiled floor, were expensive Persian and Indian rugs. Overstuffed cushions were dotted about the room. Unusual Indian musical instruments were propped against the walls.
Excitedly, Julie and her two young friends ran through the room, bouncing on the many-colored floor cushions and chasing each other behind the flowing curtains.
Two further door arches on the inner wall lured them to greater exploration. Snuggling the softness of the young girls to her, Julie put her arms around them and led them into the first of the antechambers.
In one of the walls was a huge window overlooking yet another walled courtyard. A private, sun-warmed haven, she had to escape to in between the demands of her cult duties. All the other walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelf after shelf of leather-bound books.
Scanning through them quickly, Julie found that most of them were written in some undecipherable lettering that she presumed was Indian script. Searching closer, she noticed a few English words, which appeared among the titles. To her disappointment, they all were involved works of theology, philosophy and religious subjects.
Turning around, she called her companions and left the room. Though it looked very impressive and made her feel that she really was some kind of a priestess, she didn't think she would be spending that much time in there.
The next room was something else again. It was obviously her bedroom, but what a bedroom. Furniture like this didn't come from White Front stores. Again, the decor was oriental, with drapes and lamps around the room. What really took her eye was a huge canopied bed that took up a good third of the floor space.
Pulling the hanging curtains back, she dived onto it, squealing. A sensation like she had never experienced happened to her. Instead of sinking into the mattress as she had expected, she seemed to float upon it. The whole thing conformed to the contours of her body and seemed to sway with her slightest movement.
Squirming with delight, she turned to her amazed watchers. "This," she announced delightedly, "This must be One of those new water beds that I've heard so much about. It's really a groove. Climb on, kids."
Nothing loath, the two little girls clambered up beside her. The whole bed swayed and undulated with their motion, rocking them close together as they laughed and tumbled about.
One of the children lay her head on Julie's chest and sighed contentedly. "Oh, I'm so happy. It's much better being with you in this wild place than stuck in the seraglio with the rest of the girls. They get so bitchy at times. Especially when the monks don't get to visit them often."
The other girl broke in excitedly. "Say, you'll fever guess. But we are going to be called by the swami soon. He says we are no longer children and are ready for our first communion. I can't wait until I feel the taste of the holy come. The other girls say that it's dreamy."
Julie hugged the two girls closely to her.
"Me too," Julie gladly said. "I have to receive my private instruction before I appear to the faithful tonight. Whichever of us gets it first will tell the other so that we'll know what to expect, okay?"
Her companions nodded gravely and lay back dreamily. Julie ran her fingers through their hair.
"You know," she said to them. "Here we are, and we're going to live together and share all our secrets and I don't even know your names. You know mine already. It's Julie. But I think they are going to give me a new one when I am ordained today."
The little girl on her left rolled over and looked at her. "I like you. You're grown up." She pointed at Julie's luscious breasts and down at the delicate fringe of Julie's golden pubic hair. "You're really grown up, yet you're not grumpy and standoffish like the others. They seem to think we are kids just because we have only a little fuzz around our pussies and are not allowed to take the sacrament yet. May I, I mean we, call you Julie, even though you are a high priestess."
Julie laughed and held the girls closer. "Of course you may, though I don't think there is that much difference in our ages. You make me sound like an old lady. I'm only seventeen, you know."
The older of the two girls pulled her puppy fat in around her stomach, making her budding breasts stick out as far as possible.
"Yeah, that's right Julie. You're only three years older than I am, I'm fourteen and my name's Dora. My friend is thirteen and she's Shirley. Though she doesn't look it, does she?" She finished spitefully.
The small difference in their age had indeed made a difference in their development. The elder girl, Dora, was dark haired and practically fully formed. The younger one, Shirley, was a redhead and held the innocence of lingering childhood in her blue eyes. Her trim figure had sprouted to about five foot two, but her breasts were still hard little swellings around the delicate pink buds of her nipples. A faint peach bloom of red pubic hair glistened like a burnished bronze haze around her smooth little crack. She reminded Julie of a picture she had seen somewhere of an angel. It was one of those clean-looking, naked little creatures: that flutter around the edges of Renaissance paintings.
As if reading Julie's thoughts, Shirley cut in on her reverie. "I may look young, but I've been around, you know." There was insistence and the need to be accepted in the girl's voice.
"I was living with the hippies," she continued, "when the swami found me. I'd run away from home and had been in a commune at Big Sur before I split and went peddling the Free Press on the Strip. I got to meet all kinds of guys that way. I used to give blow jobs or beat their meat in the backs of cars. It was a drag. I could have done that back home. What I really wanted was excitement.
"hen Guram Zubri found me in the Middle Earth Bazaar and told me about this place, I really dug it. I told my friend, Dora, and we both thumbed our way up here the same day."
Julie looked at the girls with amazement showing on her face. "Do you mean to say that you two are a couple of swingers?"
Julie ran her eyes over the young, hardly formed bodies. "All this time I've been thinking of you as a couple of kids who don't know what you're mixed up in. It looks as if you could be giving me ad-rise."
The two girls laughed delightedly. "We sure could. From what we've heard, the swami selected you for High Priestess because you're still cherry. Is that right? Are you?"
Julie blushed as she answered. "I guess I am. But don't tell me that both of you have had it already?"
The girls' heads nodded together as Dora answered, "Yes, my stepfather got me when I was twelve. That was one of the reasons that I split from home. My old lady turned nasty. I guess she was jealous and thought I was getting more than she was. The hippies were a rest cure after the tricks my old man got up to."
Julie turned to the little redhead, who was cuddled up beside her. "What about you, Shirley?" she asked, ready to believe anything she heard after her companion's recital.
Shirley eased her head out of the crook of Julie's arm. "It wasn't my old man that got me; he was a Seventh Day Adventist and didn't think along that groove at all. No, there was a Negro family that moved into the neighborhood on one of those equality deals. My old man used to encourage the kids to come around. He said something about all men being equal and discrimination being a sin. We all got curious one day when the folks were out. Sort of wondering how far down the color went. Pretty soon we started playing doctors and nurses and that kind of stuff. It wasn't long before one of the guys slipped me a length of blackjack."
Her eyes lit up reminiscently. "Brother, those blacks sure can screw! Anything as long as it has a hole in it. All the kids on the block got into the act and we used to have orgies when my folks were out at church. Dozens of kids were sucking and fucking all over the house. It was wild. My parents came home early one time and caught us. What a bummer. The shit really hit the fan. Macy was shafting me. I guess he was eleven. I was blowing his older brother. He was a well-built stud of fifteen," she added.
"My folks didn't stop hassling me for two days afterwards. Dad forgot all about brotherly love and called the pigs into the black family. He said they were animals. I split when they started talking about Juvy Hall. I didn't fancy any probation or staying at home reading good books all my life. I needed to be out having fun."
She laid her head on Julie's soft, comforting breasts.
"But everything's going to be groovy now," Shirley sighed. "Just the three of us in this groovy place."
Julie hugged the kids closer to her. "Of course everything's going to be groovy. Just snuggle up close and let's relax. I've got a feeling we are going to be three busy chicks before the night's out."
Her two new friends cuddled into Julie's soft body like two little puppies. Dora made a pillow of Julie's stomach and closed her eyes with a sigh. Shirley put her head on Julie's breasts, letting her auburn hair spill down over their white fullness. Her warm breath played gently over Julie's sensitive nipples causing them to pucker near the child's full lips.
A warm glow of maternal love crept over Julie. Somehow, these two kids felt very close to her. It was almost with a feeling of satisfaction that Julie became conscious of Shirley's childlike lips seeking the comfort of her aroused nipples.
With a little mewing sound, the girl fastened upon the hardness of Julie's ripe nipples. Drawing it into her mouth, Shirley closed her lips firmly around it and ran her tongue around the darker flesh.
The sensation was startling and new to Julie. She'd had guys suck at her tits before, but this was something totally different. She found it hard to figure out, but she felt motherly somehow. It was as though she had something to give that the child desperately needed.
Probably a mother felt this way when she was breast feeding her kid. But what the child, who was now sucking noisily at her boobs, needed was comforting and loving. She needed to know that she was cared for and wanted. There was someone, who she could turn to, someone who would give to her without counting the cost. If the symbolic return to childhood brought any feeling of security to her, as far as Julie was concerned, it would be selfish on her part to refuse the soft consolation of a little play acting.
Reaching down to the drowsy Dora, she drew her head up from her lap. "Here, my little darling. Julie loves you then," she cooed.
Crooking the girl's head in her arm, she offered the searching, hungry mouth of her other roseate hued nipple. Greedily, the lips closed over it and Julie breathed a sigh of utter contentment as she felt the two sets of nibbling teeth pulling at her yielding flesh.
Slowly, as if comforted by Julie's naked body, the girls increased the tempo of their lapping tongues. Reaching up with her two hands, Shirley dashed her flowing red hair from her face and cupped her fingers around the tit she was sucking on. Tighter and tighter she squeezed, until the encircling hands had forced Julie's already proud flesh up into a hard thrusting pyramid. The nipples stood up firm and eager, making a perfect target for the girl's questing mouth. Her long pink tongue pointed erotically as it coursed over the tempting flesh of Julie's captive boob. The steady persistent lapping of her new family began to] arouse instincts in Julie that were far from maternal. Flaming wings of desire coursed through her body and settled with an aching persistence in her twitching, yearning twat. The water bed undulated sensually like a tormented ocean in time to her writhing body. Her uncontainable excitement transmitted itself to the two girls as Dora began to explore Julie's body with eager, burning kisses.
Insistently, the child's mouth ranged over Julie's breast, reaching up to demand her lips for one tingling moment, then down to cover Julie's heaving stomach with wet girlish kisses. Her extended tongue dug into Julie's sweat-moist navel as if it had found a pot of honey. An animal moan of joy vibrated against the tense muscles of Julie's abdomen.
In the grip of a desire beyond her control, Dora had slipped her hand between Julie's spread thighs and enclosed her saturated slit. Julie shuddered and threw her legs even farther apart as the girlish fingers peeled back the labia and sought the dilated clitoris.
The ripe, ready meat was drenched with desire and yielded to the exploring fingers with a moist submission. Faster and faster, the fingers rotated the protruding love button, driving Julie wild with teeth-clenching desire.
The bed pitched as the two girls changed positions until the three occupants became one tangled squirming unity of embracing flesh.
A pair of trim, firm buttocks pressed themselves against Julie's face. The satin-smooth skin brushed across Julie's lips, like the soft wings of a dove. Grasping her hands around a slim waist, Julie pulled the featherweight body closer. Burying her face deeply in the pliant mounds, Julie realized that the slim, almost boyish figure must belong to Shirley.
Eagerly, the young girl snuggled onto Julie's kisses until the slick opening of her tight love pit was centered over Julie's lips.
Tentatively, Julie allowed her tongue to explore the delicate folds of another girl's pussy hole. The taste was tangy and astringent. It seemed to act as a piquant sauce to the meal she was about to eat.
Spreading the flexible buttocks, she allowed her tongue to run along the full length of Shirley's salty little oyster.
The sensation was out of this world!
Screaming messengers of passion ran through her tingling nerves, inundating her saturated pussy hole as Dora lapped at the juicy love flood.
The bed mocked again as Shirley pulled Dora around until her mouth sought and found its billet on her young friend's black-haired love nest.
Intent only upon rising, pounding passion that flowed between them, like an electric current, the three girls lapped, licked and sucked at the eager slits that yielded under their frantic mouths.
The knowledge that she was sharing her pleasure, taking as well as giving in this trinity, added a fresh meaning to Julie's surrender. It was as if all she had ever experienced in her previous sexual forays had been increased threefold.
The passion of the three girls communicated itself to each other, heightening their emotion to a pitch that could never be attained outside this tight little circle of willing surrender. The fine degrees of pleasure that another woman's knowing tongue could bring to the act, was a revelation to Julie. Being a woman and knowing what the other woman wanted, made all the difference. The mere movement of the tongue a fraction of an inch could bring a response from the lovely child that she grasped firmly to her. At the slightest hint of movement or changed position, the mouth that was attached to her pussy would alter its rhythm and bury deeper.
If only they could reach their orgasm together, Julie prayed softly. Then they would have something to tell the swami.
Faster and faster, the pointed red tongue caressed the flooded slits of their partners until the three girls were poised tottering on the edge of eternity.
A shuddering cry suddenly came from Dora's head as it nestled against the soft fuzz of Julie's crotch.
"Oh ... OH ... Julie, I can't hold out any longer. I'm going to come. Are you near?"
As if spurred by Dora's involuntary cry, the other two girls renewed their efforts simultaneously.
Shirley's breath was warm on Dora's squirming tidbit as she moaned softly. "Yes, oh ... yes. Me too. I'm coming. Hurry Julie. Let's come together."
Even before the girls spoke, Julie could feel the warm flood building up inside her. Their words were like a lash, forcing the blood to pump faster through her burning body. With a final convulsive jerk, she freed herself from the slender thread of reality and her climax washed over her like the bursting of a dam.
Vaguely, as if from another world, she heard the strangled cries of the other girls as they, in their turn, crashed through the barriers of consciousness, and broke free into the outer galaxies of their star-spinning orgasms.
The sound of the gauzy drapes, fluttering at the windows, merged with the quiet breathing of the exhausted girls as they snuggled close in a sublimated, totally communicating embrace.
Shirley's soft lips brushed against Julie's closed eyes for a moment. "Oh Julie," Shirley breathed strongly. "We do love you so. Never leave us, will you?"
Julie pulled the two cuddle-some creatures close to her, holding them tightly as if they were the most precious objects in the world. And she thought drowsily to herself that in a way they were. Through the eager demanding mouths of these two, who at first she had dismissed as mere children, she had risen to heights of intimacy that she had never experienced while sucking a cock.
She was going to keep the two girls with her always, and she didn't give a damn if she never saw another dilated dick again as long as she lived. Hugging her resolution to her, along with her voluptuous bedmates, she listened to their quiet breathing for a moment before she, too, fell into the deep sleep of utter sublimity.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It seemed to Julie that she had only just closed her eyes when she was awakened by the brassy sound of a gong that echoed through the rooms of the convent. Trying to pull her drifting senses back to her surroundings, she became aware of increased activity as the women gathered excitedly in the courtyard outside.
Gently shaking the sleepy girls, she sent them out to discover the reason for the chattering, voluble group outside the window.
Within minutes, the girls returned breathlessly.
"Julie, Julie. Get up quickly. The swami has sent for all the Chosen Women. There is to be a sort of ritual, and then your initiation ceremony. The women have asked permission to come in and dress you in your robes."
Julie sprang off the bed and landed cat sure on the cool tiled floor. Her still swollen breasts bounced gaily for an instant with the impact of her landing.
"I wonder what's going to happen," Julie asked. "But I'll bet it's going to be groovy."
The little girls pulled her back into the room.
"Remember you are a priestess. You can't go rushing about like that. Call the women in to dress you. You want to look your best."
Remembering what the swami had told her earlier, Julie couldn't help but agree. She didn't know what was going to happen, but from what she had learned already about the oriental mind, she guessed that it was going to be way-out.
Surrendering herself to the clutching, pulling hands of her attendants, she allowed herself to be led out of her rooms and into the courtyard.
The many-tongued chatter of the women ceased abruptly as she entered. One by one, the assembled women dropped to their knees as Julie passed by them. The Negress, who had been so assiduous in purifying Julie's still raw twat earlier, was the first to address her.
"Come, my priestess." Her rich, deep voice was like molasses as she spoke. "We must prepare you for the ritual."
Drawing herself up to her full height, Julie looked every rounded delectable inch the priestess as she answered.
"Fetch me my finest robes that I may go forth as befits me."
She had taken part in several school plays when she was younger and found that she could play the part with ease. A sort of nude Lady Macbeth. A slight smile played about the corners of her mouth. No matter what happened, she felt equal to the situation. Motioning her two attendants to follow her, she made her way over to a low stone bench that stood beside the tinkling fountain.
"Begin your ministrations," she commanded firmly as she sat down arranging herself regally.
Suddenly, the Negress' full black robes swung pendulously as she turned away. Her voice rang out again over the courtyard.
"Open the gates and let them enter. We are ready."
A couple of naked girls ran laughing to the doorway, where Julie had first entered the convent. Opening it fully, they stood back to let a line of robed monks enter.
Chanting, they made a circuit of the courtyard, each monk selecting one of the chosen women and escorting her to a resting place. Within minutes, the chanting had stopped and each monk was standing over a girl. Some of those that had been selected first, were reclining on stone benches, like Julie. Others were lying on the grassy areas under the bushes. The rough stonework of the pool's edge had a fresco of young girls, each with their waiting monk poised over them. The sound of distant music came to Julie's ears as she lay on her bench. She alone among all the women was without a priestly attendant. The two young girls had even been selected and were now reclining on the flagstones beside Julie's seat. Two expressionless priests stood over them, their finely chiseled, ascetic faces seemingly indifferent to the suppliant girls at their feet.
The music came closer and closer as Julie lay wondering what the significance of it all was. Reaching the doorway, the music suddenly stopped and the deep tones of a gong vibrated with a low menacing note that caused Julie to shudder with anticipation.
As the last echoes of the gong died away, the swami swept through the open doorway with a rustle of silken robes. Following him, two bearers carried a gold-inlaid throne.
Without a single glance at the waiting crowd, Guram Zubri strode into the middle of the courtyard and halted. His two bearers placed the throne carefully behind him. Feeling behind him for the arms, the swami lowered himself onto the richly embroidered cushions.
Arranging his gorgeous costume around his thin body, he cleared his throat before speaking. "I have come amongst you. You, the chosen out of all my flock. Tonight we welcome our High Priestess into her duties. But, most auspiciously, her arrival has coincided with the date of the Shearing of the Lambs."
He gazed intently at his listening audience as if encompassing them with his holiness. "As you know, it is the custom for the most holy of my apparel to be woven from the yoni-hair of the chosen women. It is fitting that I should be clothed in the fleece of my lambs."
He looked closely at the girls nearer to him. His snakelike eyes flickered like forked tongues over the ripe fullness of their bodies. He licked his wet lips sensuously as his gaze concentrated on the darkly curling pubic hair of the Negress, who lay with her legs spread a few feet away from him.
"Some of you," he continued pointedly, "some of you are indeed ready for the shearing. The wool grows fast in this salubrious climate."
He turned to an older priest who stood near him. "Make a note that the lambs are to be shorn monthly instead of quarterly. Apart from increasing the yield, I like to see them clean and unencumbered by body hair. It gives my pure mind much joy to observe the childish sweetness of a hairless yoni."
The swami smiled indulgently as if he was aware of the honor he was bestowing upon the attentive girls.
"But to continue," he went on. "As usual, a monk will cut away the silken cunt locks from each of you and the wool will be saved for spinning into vestments by our workshops. But the virginal yoni of our High Priestess," he waved his hand toward Julie's reclining body as he spoke. "She is too pure to be defiled by the touch of any other but I. I alone will feel the parting of the golden hair from its bed of pale flesh. Only I will hold the petallic lips of her vagina to one side and shave the outer folds of her delicate pussy hole until it is as smooth as the lilies that float upon the waters of the Holy Ganges. My questing thumb alone will anchor itself firmly into the moist passage of her passive twat as I manipulate it from side to side under the sharp edges of the sanctified razor. My hands and my hands alone can fondle that alluring morsel without out-stepping the bounds of sanctity. I alone am capable of reciting passages from the Writings when engaging in such practices. To be able to see the Infinite Beauty while your fingers are moist with the juices of an eager yoni, that is Sublimity."
His voice mounted with the intensity of his conviction. "I am pure, pure."
His voice rose to a shrill piping. "All the outside world thinks about is sex, sex, sex. Thank God that there are such as I who can rise above it."
He singled out various of the younger monks and directed his attention to them as he lowered his voice into a more fitting, relaxed tone. "Practice and yet more practice is what some of our brothers need. Those that do not show the right degree of detachment during the forthcoming ceremony will be sent out among the lower members of our flock to practice the sacred shearing there until through a surfeit of shearing juicy slits, they can alienate themselves from all carnal thoughts while doing so. It is a long hard path to follow, but need I tell you that there are other, less inviting twats that need ministrations. You are fortunate to be working upon young wholesome flesh at the moment. Let me remind you that there are many like Mrs. Ogglethorp, who pay heavily to be accepted into our society. If you cannot control yourselves during the delicate tasks of shaving the Chosen Women's pussies, we will see whether a month or so in New Admissions will dampen your ardor."
Guram Zubri shuddered delicately as he remembered the years of dedicated toil he had put in before his sect had grown and become prosperous. The brittle widows and frustrated, elderly women had been attracted by the mysticism of his words and the virility of his insatiable Hindu prick. Legacies had been received from elderly ladies who had died happily because of his oily words of comfort. His practiced tongue was able to mumble pious phrases even when lapping at the dried well of some rich old woman's love pit.
He rubbed his hands together in a gesture of satisfaction. Yes, he was pleased with the progress he had made since leaving the parched Indian village of his youth. The clamorous cries of his hungry brothers and sisters still sounded in his ears at times. Most of them would be dead by now. He thought of their going with indifference. The more fools they. How they had derided him when he announced that he was leaving the doubtful security of his father's overworked farm. The ridiculous peasant preoccupation with the dusty soil. Each son, on reaching maturity, was given a portion of his father's farm to support his family. The swami's mind ranged back over time and distance until he could see again the small mud-walled plots of barren ground. The farm was divided again and again among the children and children's children until each plot measured only a few, well-guarded feet. The back-breaking work under the merciless sun to grow a few scant vegetables while a brother's hungry children peered enviously over the separating wall from their own empty piece of earth. The strangled cry of a woman in childbirth. Her undernourished, emaciated body contorted in the effort to bring forth yet another hungry mouth to be dependent on the lifeless soil for its existence. He remembered again the few times when there was food enough to go around. Like when his elder sister was sold to a visitor to be transported to distant Bombay to work in a brothel; her young flesh to be pawed over and corrupted by the pricks of the cast-less British. How he had hated them for their easy assurance and their overfed arrogance. Occasionally, a mendicant disciple of the Holy Mahatma Ghandi would visit the village and speak the words of fire about the work of the Master. The sonorous, glib words assuring them that the example of passive resistance laid down by Ghandi would soon rid the land of the British.
Once they had left, all would be right for India. The swami remembered the chaos after partition in 1946. The unending clashes between the proud northern Muslims and their richer Hindu neighbors of the south as they fought over the spoils after the British withdrawal. For centuries, the British, French, Portuguese and Dutch had raped India of her wealth. Screwing the minds of the people as surely as they plundered the natural resources of the vast country. It was justice that he should come among these effete white fools and grow rich while corrupting their minds with a debased form of the religious philosophies that they had scorned while they ruled the land of its birth.
The centuries of shit that whites had daubed over the fair face of India was being returned with interest. Now they in turn were being fucked and it was a pleasant task to plunge his prick into the flesh of a corrupt society. He had these fawning fools begging him to empty his aching balls down their gullible throats. In some small way it made up for the countless times he had been forced to stand helplessly by while gangs of loutish British soldiers took turns to lay with the terrified women of his family. Yes, they had indeed corrupted his people and should pay for the pleasure. His starving people had sunk so low that there was no perversion that they would not pander to. The memory returned of a pudgy eight-year-old girl's fingers wrapped around the prick of a gloating soldier in a Bombay bar ... the cringing manner in which she let him shoot his load into her young face before running off eagerly with a flung handful of rupees.
The swami laughed to himself gloatingly. Now, praise be to God there was a change in the order of things. In turn, he was fucking them and what was more, they were paying him well to do it. He would never be able to get enough of their flesh, or their money either.
As he sat upon his gilded throne, he surveyed the patiently awaiting throng that surrounded him. The fools, with their white, asinine faces. Looking at him so devoutly, believing his thoughts to be occupied with sweeping concepts of theology and brotherly love.
His glance fell upon Julie's two childish handmaidens. Within a few short hours, he told himself gloatingly, he should be upon them like the wrath of his people. Their blossoming bodies should feel the tearing intrusion of a thrusting prick as surely as his hungry sisters did as he watched helplessly. But now, he had had enough of these mental rejoicings. There was work to be done. And work that wasn't altogether unpleasant.
He lifted his head and spoke aloud to the silent, watchful throng around him.
"I must apologize to you for my abstraction. A mind such as mine is in tune with the Infinite. The words of God come upon me at times that are incomprehensible to the Western mind!"
He held his arms out wide to them. "You will be relieved to hear that I have not forgotten you. In fact, you, all of your benighted race has been the subject of my thoughts. Great things will happen. I have plans for you. It is written by the hand of fate."
He lowered his hands and smiled upon them tenderly. "But I digress. We must continue with the ceremony. Bring forth the shears for the blessing."
Obediently, each monk withdrew a pair of sharply pointed barber scissors from under his robe. The instruments gleamed metallically in the sunshine as if they had been coated in pure gold. Fumbling further in the folds of their robes, the monks each withdrew a safety razor and broke it free from its cellophane wrapping.
Fascinated, Julie watched as the monks lined up before the seated guru. As each man passed before him bearing the barber's tools on little squares of white cloth, the swami mumbled incomprehensible Indian words over him in a singsong voice.
Thin, bony wrists protruded from the wide sleeves of his robes as he raised his hands in an unctuous blessing. One by one, the monks filed past and took up their stations in front of the waiting girls.
All eyes were upon the swami as he lowered his raised hand and signaled for the monks to begin the delicate task of shearing the curly pubic hair from the prostrate girls.
"Begin, cut closely leaving only the slightest stubble for the razor."
One by one, the monks bent over their task, spreading the legs of the girls apart to get an uninterrupted, unencumbered access to the silken-haired groins of their partners.
The golden orb of the setting California sun had rarely looked down on such strange activities, even in a state that was notorious for its way-out acceptance of the bizarre. The long, low angle of the sinking sun threw a harsh, intense light on the industrious fingers of the bending monks as they took the delicate fuzz of pubic hair between their fingers and carefully snipped it off close to its white-fleshed roots. With painful concentration, they transferred each soft tuft to a small cloth bag that was carried on a cord around their necks.
The eyes of the swami darted to and fro, intent on every detail of the operation. Zealously he watched the transference of each individual snippet in case some careless monk allowed a single curly hair to fall and be lost on the paved courtyard.
As each monk finished his chore, he made his way across the courtyard. On reaching the throne of the waiting swami, he bowed and placed his small bag with its precious contents reverently at the feet of his master.
Slowly, the small pyramid of bags grew in height until the last monk had placed his offering in place. The size of the bags varied considerably. Those from the two younger girls naturally held less of a crop than those of the older, more developed girls. Even among these, there was considerable variation. The dark-skinned brunettes with their heavier, coarser pubic growth would yield, in many instances, two compressed handfuls, while the fair-skinned blondes and redheads, even though the monks assiduously explored every delightful nook and cranny of their groins, rarely gave more than a shimmering palm full of their golden treasure.
Looking around to ensure that all the contributions were in, Guram Zubri clapped his hands.
In answer to his command, two novice monks entered the courtyard. The first carried a steaming pitcher of hot water while his companion followed closely at his heels with a large brass tray bearing ten finely worked metal bowls. A cake of scented Kashmir soap and an old-fashioned shaving brush lay beside each bowl.
Quickly, they made the rounds of the couples. Each monk received a bowl of hot water and the necessary brush and soap.
As the last couple was served, Guram Zubri gave the order to commence. Excited giggling arose from the girls as the hot soapy brushes began to lather their shorn, unprotected pussies. The soft bristles of the brushes searched out the sensitive secrets of the lathered slits with an implacable determination. Driven to a frenzy, many of the girls called out in their passionate stimulation.
Sternly, the swami called for silence. "Let there be quietness and less levity. This is a ceremony fraught with esoteric significance, not the occasion for debased sensuality. If any of you do reach a climax, let it be in sanctified silence."
He motioned the men to continue. Julie lay motionless on her bench in the middle of it all. Glancing down, over the soft roundness of her stomach, she saw the soft, corn-colored crop of her own pubic hair ruffle slightly in the mild, California evening breeze.
"Why?" she asked herself wonderingly. "Why have I alone, out of all the girls, been neglected?"
Her fingers stole down to her thighs and caressed her downy pussy hair. She felt coarse and somehow concealed among all these smooth, hairless girls.
And Roddy? Where the hell was Roddy? He was supposed to be a head monk, or some other kind of big wheel in the organization. Why wasn't he here assisting in the ceremony?
Suddenly, the boom of the gong interrupted her train of thought. A tenseness seemed to sweep among the reclining women. The swami half turned on his embossed throne and looked towards the door leading from the Temple. Julie raised herself slightly and followed his gaze.
Roddy MacGowan strode purposefully through the opening, dressed in the yellow robes of a full fledged monk. In the harsh, searching light of the setting sun, his appearance was far removed from that of the clean cut all-American boy. His hands were folded reverently on his chest in an attitude of prayer. His face shone with an apparent religious fervor as he made his way across the courtyard.
Ignoring the couples on either side of him, he came to a halt in front of the swami. Guram Zubri looked at him with approval.
"Well, my son. Have you completed the prayers of purification?"
"I have, oh Divine Swami," Roddy replied firmly.
"Is your mind cleansed of all carnal thoughts?" the swami questioned. "It is," Roddy replied dogmatically.
"So be it. Go forth among the women and pick out those that have fallen from grace."
Turning on his heel, Roddy went to the first of the women as she lay waiting for his judgment. The swami looked on with an attitude of boredom as the farce proceeded. And farce it was. Decision had already been made days before. The swami was a sufficient psychologist to know that nothing kept the girls quite so eager to please as uncertainty. By keeping the number of Chosen Women down to ten at any one time, he was able to cope with them sexually. This way his visits to each girl were not spaced so far apart as to leave her hopelessly frustrated. At the same time, with ten girls to choose from, he would not become bored with repetition. But human nature being what it is, even a perfect paragon of docile femininity would tend to become a little bitchy and demanding if confined to the close life of the Inner Courtyard of the Chosen Women indefinitely. When the swami's practiced ear and lunging penis detected a sign of discontent among the girls, he invariably arranged for a shearing and ritual inspection to weed out the malcontented.
Roddy had been well briefed as to how to make his selection this time. Now that Julie had entered into the close circle of Chosen Women, there was a danger of active rebellion among the more established members of the harem. These would be firmly weeded out and sent back to the fields and workshops of the community to repent for their sins in hard back-breaking work. The swami was a firm believer in hard work, especially for other people. The swami raised his head and idly watched Roddy's progress. Grasping each reluctant girl firmly by her ankles, he spread her legs far apart and scrutinized her clean-shaven twat closely.
Carefully peeling back the white skin of the clean-shaven labia lips, Roddy ran his finger along the tender pinkness of the exposed twat as if testing the sensitivity of the moist folds.
Then placing one hand upon the hairless, revealed crotch and the other upon the forehead of the trembling girl, he would close his eyes and concentrate as if completing some magnetic, mystical circuit through the girl's body. If the girl was on the reject list, Roddy would open his eyes suddenly as if he had received divine inspiration and look with horror at the weeping girl. Ignoring her pleas, he would signal her attendant monk to lead her to the waiting door and thrust her naked, dejected body out of the hallowed grounds.
From a distance, a crowd of devotees watched the sobbing girls as they walked with slumped shoulders in the direction of the bazaar. Here and there among the silent, watchful throng, a young girl would smile as she saw a rival fall from grace. With luck, some of them would be chosen as replacements and acknowledged as suitably pure recipients for the Sacred Seed of the holy Guram Zubri. This was an honor that every watching woman coveted in her heart of hearts.
The men in the crowd paid careful attention to the girls. Marking them well so that they would recognize them again at the next meeting, the men knew that any girl who had spent time as a Chosen Maiden would be well trained to give a good head job. After sucking on the tool of the jaded swami for a few months, there would be little that she didn't know about the exacting art of sucking a cock.
A few of the younger, more brazen men broke away from the crowd to offer a consoling word to the crestfallen girls. A quiet word, a shared meal and the offer of a bed for the night was the least that one could do for another on an occasion like this.
The deep-throated clang of the gong sounded over the enclosing walls of the convent, announcing the completion of this stage in the ceremony.
In all, six of the ten Chosen Women had been removed from the grace. Tomorrow would be a busy day as the replacements were chosen and admitted to the Order.
Inside the walls, the feeling of relief was a tangible, living entity as the four remaining girls knelt before the swami and humbly kissed his feet. Julie breathed a little sigh of happiness as she saw her two young friends prostrate themselves before the gilded throne. The firm buttocks seemed so familiar and reassuring as they crouched above the slightly soiled soles of their exposed feet. The firm unwrinkled lips of their young pussies peeped out at Julie from under the half moons of their asses.
Narrowing her eyes, Julie looked at them closely in the fading light. It was probably her imagination, but the smooth, stretched lips of their tight twats seemed to be pouting slightly as if blowing her an intimate, passion-wet kiss. Some instinct caused Julie to look around.
Silently on sandaled feet, the monks had formed a circle around her. Strong hands closed in on her naked, body and lifted her up to bear her towards the waiting swami. As if detached from her surroundings, Julie watched the flaming sun slip behind the mass of the distant mountain. The sudden hush of a summer's evening settled on the land.
The swami glowed in the last rays of the vanishing sun as if he had arranged it all like a clever Hollywood lighting director.
"Bring torches, Julie," he commanded.
Within minutes the courtyard flickered in the eerie light of a dozen flaming torches. Julie felt herself being lowered to the ground inside the circle of spluttering, flaring torches.
Ponderously, with dignified tread, the swami advanced towards her. Snapping his fingers, he held out his hand towards a monk, who offered him a closed, teakwood box.
"Open it. Open it, you fool. I cannot profane my sanctified hands."
Reaching inside, Guram Zubri brought forth a similar pair of scissors to the ones that the other monks had used in their tonsorial tasks. Where the others had the appearance of being gold plated, the slight difference in the sound of the metal as he snipped them experimentally, indicated that these were solid gold.
Julie's pussy twitched excitedly. Really, she thought to herself. If you are going to lose your cunt hair, this is the only way to fly. Golden scissors to match my delicate coloring. The swami is a riot. He's just thought of everything.
The sound of movement caused Julie to peer into the gathering darkness as Roddy made his way into the circle of light cast by the torches. Dociley, he stood at her feet holding a shallow bowl in his outstretched hands.
The swami moved in closer and motioned her to spread her legs. Ignoring the fixed stares of the surrounding monks, she obeyed the swami's gesture. The torches cast a ruddy tinge on her supine, white body.
Reaching down like a surgeon performing a delicate operation, the swami took a tuft of her luxurious pubic hair between his thin brown fingers and cut it loose from its fleshy bed. The watching circle of monks moved in closer like attentive medical students over an operation.
Julie heard the snip, snip of the scissors from some far-away world. Some built-in defense mechanism seemed to come into play, protecting her from the bizarre reality of what was happening to her here and now. Remembering the swami's disapproval of the other girl's reactions to the stimulation of their slits, Julie tried to fight down her mounting desire as the swami's hand worked on her moist opening. With practiced ease, he held the covering lips to one side as he ran the scissors closely along the soft flesh of her crotch.
At each snip of the blade, he would stop and meticulously pick up the precious crop of pubic hair. The glistening sheen of its honey-blonde texture appeared like beaten gold against the paleness of the shorn flesh. Taking the little tufts of curly pubic hair between his fastidious finger, he motioned to Roddy, who stood at his side with the shallow metal bowl. Imperceptibly, the golden fleece mounted higher in its receptacle until almost a handful of the feathery fluff shimmered in the flickering torchlight.
The warm California night breeze felt chill and fresh upon the plumpness of Julie's hairless mound of Venus. The swami's thumb manipulated Julie's dewy clitoris, absent-mindedly, as he stretched her labia about seeking the last of its silken crop.
Biting down on her lip, Julie stifled a sob of burning desire as her dilated clit responded to the stimulus of the pious swami-caressing thumb.
"If he doesn't quit shortly," Julie muttered to herself desperately, "I'm going to shoot my load right in his holy hand."
As if realizing that he had driven her almost beyond the tolerance of flesh and blood, Guram Zubri straightened up and pronounced himself satisfied.
Julie's hairless pussy gleamed whitely, contrasting with the darker color of her tanned body. The swami stroked it approvingly "Now, my dear," he pronounced purringly. "You are childlike and pure again. There is great symbolism in this simple ritual. Now you can enter into your new life in innocence of all your past knowing. You are reborn, naked and unknowing, but biologically capable of giving yourself in holy innocence to the rituals of our faith. Do you understand the meaning of my words?"
Julie nodded doubtfully. "I think I do, Swami Zubri. You mean that no matter what I do, I do it purely like a child, I do not understand?"
The swami looked around the assembled circle of monks, exalting. "I was right again. When I first saw this angelic child, a voice whispered within me that she was the All Pure, All Knowing One that we had searched for. It has indeed been revealed that no matter what the rest of the world would call the rituals of our faith, she can approach the most complex ceremony with a clean mind and not be degraded."
In his excess of joy, he ran his hand over her exposed body. "Look at this perfection." He patted her breasts fondly, the thrusting flesh trembled with a fluid plasticity under his touch.
"All of her, each gloriously eager inch of her innocent beauty is ours to worship according to the creed of the Most Holy Rama Krishna."
He wiped the tears of emotion from his lidded eyes with the sleeve of his robe.
Turning to Roddy, he spoke again in a pent-up stifled voice. "Take over, my son. I am too overwrought to carry on. My trembling hands are not to be trusted with a razor. As a High Priest of the yellow robe, you are sanctified enough to shave this virginal creature."
Nothing loath, Roddy took his place between Julie's outstretched legs and called for water and scented soap.
Beseechingly, Julie seized the swami's hand. "Guram Zubri, sir. Though I can control my nature when touched by your revered hands I doubt if my flesh will remain unresponsive under the ministrations of your youthful priest."
The swami nodded understandingly. "That can be understood and allowed for. There are stages of sublimity in our order. We do not expect more than the human entity can give. I will watch and rejoice in your release."
Happily, Julie resigned herself to whatever was about to happen.
She had warned the swami and it seemed that if she did get her rocks off, it was going to be all right by him. She closed her eyes and waited.
A sudden shock, like nothing she had believed possible ran through her. A warm bubbling slickness flowed sensuously across her hairless, helpless twat. Shuddering waves of delight coursed through her as Roddy deftly applied the lather-laden brush to her tender pubic area.
In an ecstasy of delight, she felt his gentle, soap-coated hands rubbing the foaming lather into her genitals. Thrusting her hips up to coincide with the rhythm of his massage, she squirmed delightedly under his touch.
Disapprovingly, Guram Zubri motioned the monks to hold her still. "It must be all in the mind," he clucked between his teeth. "Hold her firm so the body does not indicate its pleasure."
He bowed slightly to Roddy. "Please continue. Do not rush the soaping. Exercise this sensuality out of her high-strung body."
Pinioned firmly by the monk's restricting hands, she found herself powerless and unable to escape the steady, persistent circular motion of the soapy brush across her gaping love hole. Her stomach muscles heaved and knotted as she fought to thrust her yearning cunt upwards to meet Roddy's ministrations.
The guru's eyes gleamed as he witnessed the struggles of his willing victim. "See how she writhes in the grip of the demon of desire." His pointing finger indicated her heaving titties as they shuddered on her panting chest. "The desires must be drawn out of her. Two of you will take that delicate flesh between your lips and give a counter stimulation. Draw forth the milk of her lust."
Nothing loath, two of the monks leaned over Julie's writhing body and she felt the hotness of their breath upon her tits before their mouths closed over her erect nipples.
With increased speed, the tongues lapped, licked and pulled at her rubbery ju-jubes. Electric shocks ran through Julie's sweaty body and merged with the crescendo of delight that fermented between her wide-open crotch.
Unable to fight back the paralysis of her rapidly approaching climax, Julie surrendered herself to the hot flush of tingling near oblivion that heralded the approach of her orgasm.
Gauging her reaction to a nicety, Roddy abandoned all pretense of lathering her soapy cunt and concentrated on her erect, protruding love button. The clammy love juice mixed with the foaming soap and formed a lubricating film that allowed her hairless cunt to slip through his fingers with a wet, slurping sound. Round and round slipped his questing hand, playing over the smooth hollows beside her gaping, eager slit.
Sliding with soapy ease past the lips of her labia, he chased the springy button of her throbbing clitoris around the fleshy confines of her foaming twat. Reaching out again, Julie found the hand of the watching swami and held it tight as the convulsing hysteria of an orgasm swept through her. Clutching his hand tightly, Julie could feel the sanctity of the man cleansing her of all animal sensuality until the passion of her climax seemed to become a religious ecstasy. Like an exhausted child, she let the last throb of her ejaculation ebb out of her limp body and surrender herself to the steady scrape of the razor as Roddy removed the last trace of fuzz from her completely relaxed love pit.
Now she felt absolutely drained, with all the animal passion gone from her mind as surely, as the symbolic sexuality of womanhood had been shaved from her sweet, hairless honey pot.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Julie roused herself at the sound of the swami's voice and raised her head languorously from the bench. The swami's back was towards her as he addressed the circle of women standing beyond the light of the torches.
"Fetch the Ordination Robes for your Priestess," he instructed them.
The women scurried away to do his bidding, returning moments later with their arms laden with filmy garments.
Silently, they held them out to Julie's two attendants. "Dress yourselves, my pretty flowers," Guram Zubri told the small circle of girls. "There are garments there for all of you. The monks and I will await you by the entrance to the Temple."
Laughing in their excitement, the girls examined the clothes by the light of the torches. With the exception of Julie's more elaborate gown, all the dresses were embroidered, tunics of clinging silk.
As they slipped them on, the gauzy material seemed to transform them from creatures of flesh and blood into delicate spirits that flitted in and out of the flickering torch light with a dreamlike quality. There was nothing dreamlike, though, about the rounded contours of their young bodies whenever outlined for a minute against the torchlight. The fabric, of finest Indian silk, allowed the rich fullness of their figures to be plainly visible through the practically transparent cloth.
As they moved, there would be a fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of a firm thigh or the enticing pinkness of a young nipple pressed momentarily against the hardly concealing material.
As they finished dressing, the girls crowded around Julie to help her two attendants select a dress. One by one, the garments were held up and admired. Taking them from the outstretched hands, Dora and Shirley helped their mistress as she slowly became transformed from a blonde, American teenager to a figure that would have graced the harem of any Eastern potentate. The soft flowing lines of a sari graced the lower half of Julie's trim figure. Fitting tightly as it did, the enclosing material forced Julie to walk with the flowing grace of a high-caste Indian woman. Every inch of her long-legged beauty was revealed through the opaque material.
The smooth sweep of her calf gave way to the plump fullness of her thigh with a line of breathtaking beauty. The contours of her inner thigh ran upwards delicately to merge with the enticing hairless vee of her groin. The whole effect was one of utterly sexless beauty, "like a Greek statue of some ancient goddess.
About her upper body was fitted a jacket such as the Hindu women wear. The long-sleeved garment fitted tight under her full boobs, accentuating the extraordinary cone-shaped breasts. Though the garment covered, it did little to conceal and every detail was discernible as she reached behind her to secure the traditional mask on her head. Though the yasmak actually belonged to the Muslims, the swami had felt little compunction in borrowing it for his sect, as he knew the devotees would be unaware of the anomaly. Actually in his heart of hearts, he rather agreed with the principle behind it and despite all his talk to the contrary, held little patience with the idea of women's equality. That a woman should hide her face so as not to tempt man, sounded like a damned good practice as far as the swami was concerned ... particularly when they looked like some of his older disciples, Mrs. Ogglethorpe for instance. Though, to give fair credit, with her dentures out she did give a good head job. Those toothless gums had a little knack of squeezing down just as he was shooting his load that nearly blew his mind. The slight pain of her pinching seemed to exaggerate the ecstasy of his release. A remarkable woman in many respects, but most importantly, a very rich one.
At last the guru gave a signal to one of the monks standing beside the huge brass gong.
"Summon my people to the ceremony," he commanded testily.
The lusty tone of the gong beat insistently through the warm night air. In groups of various sizes, the faithful left homes, bazaar and places of work to gather in an eager throng before the steps of the temple.
Bright electric lighting glared down from the cornices and columns, turning the facade into a Disneylike fairy land. On the terrace, which ran the length of the building, Guram Zubri's throne seat had been placed in the center of a row of chairs for the lesser monks. In the middle of the platform, a silk cushion had been placed for Julie.
An expectant hush fell over the waiting crowd as music heralded the approach of the cult leaders. With superb showmanship, the guru allowed the musicians and monks to stand at their allotted places before he entered.
The pulse-quickening music ended with an abrupt flourish as the gong sounded again from the depths of the temple. The monks prostrated themselves on the ground as the multicolored crowd broke into shouts of acclaim. With solemn, dignified steps, Roddy walked into the illuminated terrace holding a grotesquely carved Indian fertility symbol high in his hands. The guru followed behind him, his thin body seeming to float along in his flowing robes.
Seating himself with assurance on his raised throne, he held his arms up in a blessing. Utter silence fell upon the assembled throng.
"My fellow people," he began, with his voice thin and reedy as it cut through the densely packed plaza. "Let me make this perfectly clear: I have summoned you to witness the fulfilling of prophesies that have been written in our sacred books. It had been said that if man gives away his accumulated wealth and turns inward upon himself in contemplation, he will achieve Nirvana. In this blessed state, he can know no evil and all his deeds will be sanctified. Only by converting that which the unenlightened call base and wicked into purity can we rid mankind of its corruption. I have taught you that sex is an approach to the bliss of heaven."
A low murmur of approval of the Holy Words ran through the crowd gathered before him.
Again, the swami held his hands up for silence before continuing. "But ... This is not enough. Each great philosophy has a focal point. A high peak of truth from whence it can expound its doctrine. The more learned amongst you have read that we await the coming of The Virgin. This untouched female will be the fallow ground wherein the seeds of our faith shall join with the flesh of her body. In the normal sex act, the male pours his seed into the wet yoni of the woman." The swami's voice cackled in his excitement and beads of sweat stood out on his animatedly twitching face.
"But, what is the purpose of this coupling?" he demanded rhetorically. Without waiting for an answer, he continued his harangue. "It is only to fulfill the women's purpose for procreating. If the Gods do not will it thus, the precious seed is allowed to dribble away and run wastefully down the woman's legs. Disgusting ... The seed of man carries the essence of eternity within them. All his strivings, all his hopes and dreams are contained within the precious fluid. This must not be cast upon barren ground ... There is another way, praise be to All-seeing Providence. If the sperms are placed into the eager mouth of woman and swallowed ritually saying the sacred words, they will pass into her being completely. There to merge with the flesh, blood and bone of her body in holy completeness. As the digestive system completes its work, they become as one with every part. Thus she becomes the living temple of man's yearning and holy essence. Praise be to the blessed saints who, after devoting their lives to endless study and practice, discovered this principle."
Guram Zubri paused and looked around him with theatrical effect. "There are none here who doubt the revelation of my words?"
Cries of agreement roared from the enraptured crowd. Guram Zubri beamed upon them like a grade school teacher when his class has come up with the right answer. His voice sunk to an impressive key as he pointed off stage.
"In response to our prayers, providence has sent a virgin to us to take the Holy Sacrament of our gushing sperms. This child is pure and uncorrupted. Her thoughts, like her delicious body, are as white as the driven snow. I, your acknowledged representative of All Holy Knowing and purity, shall shoot my ..." he corrected himself quickly, carried away by the intensity of his desire.
"I have attained a sufficiently high state of wisdom and cleanliness to give my seeds into the vessel of this girl's body. In her purity, they will become part of her, coursing through her divine body like a living fire. As she moves, her motion will come from my essence within. As she thinks her thoughts will wing like birds of paradise straight to the altars of the highest. The wisdom of my understanding will be upon them and the gods will know there is sanctity and holiness upon earth ..."
The swami turned and held his hands out to the dimly lit side of the terrace. "Let it be done. Bring forth the virgin."
The haunting melody of the Indian music swelled in volume as the musicians bent over their instruments. A queenly representative of feminine beauty, Julie minced into the lights, her tightly swathed sari heightening the regal effect. Behind her, the temple maidens walked at a respectful distance. The bright lights cut through the transparent materials of their dresses like a hot knife through butter, leaving no detail of their delectable bodies to the imagination.
Reaching the center of the terrace, they turned to face the silent, fascinated crowd. A roar of approval surged from the exulting crowd as hundreds of eyes penetrated every fold of Julie's revealing costume. Cries of animal lust and passion mingled with the exclamations of religious fervor. The dark gaze of Guram Zubri burnt into Julie's flesh like a hot iron. Conscious of his eyes, she turned towards him questioningly.
A slow smile played about the corners of his wet lips. "Be not impatient. Soon I will merge with you."
He addressed the crowd again. "In this bowl," he pointed to the brass dish of pubic hair that Roddy held before him. "Here are the last traces of your High Priestess's earlier karma. They shall be changed in form and scattered to the four winds. She is then released from all but her life in our service."
A robed monk came forward with a flickering torch. Taking the gleaming cunt hair from the bowl, Roddy sprinkled it over the eager, leaping flame of the torch. Each feather-light hair crisped for a moment before bursting into a tiny point of fire. For one intense second, a hair would burn and then drift away to merge with the surrounding darkness of the night.
The swami's voice intoned steadily. "And so your past changes. Drifting away into the oblivion of darkness. You are smooth, naked and reborn."
His hands beckoned her and she felt herself walking across the intervening space as if drawn by a magnet. Taking her arms, Guran Aubri positioned them into the gestures of an Indian goddess.
"And now, the High Priestess shall be revealed unto you," Guram Zubri announced. His fingers sought the fastener of her dress. A deft twist and the single button was undone.
With a caressing movement, the swami eased the soft garment from her torso, leaving her upper body starkly revealed in the strong lighting. Summoning her young attendants, he had them remove the sari from her waist. Kneeling in front of her, the young girls inched the tight-fitting skirt-like dress from her rounded stomach. As if reluctant to relinquish its closeness to her warm flesh, the sari slipped lower in response to the girl's steady downward pull. Lower and lower, the dress sank past Julie's slim hips until the smooth V of her hairless mound of Venus appeared above the moving hem. Steadily, the material was peeled from her and the details of her pouting cunt lips surrendered themselves to the stares of the excited crowd. Further and further the dress dropped over her thighs, pausing for a moment as it slid over her knees, then dropped with a silken rustle to lay in folds around her ankles.
Stark naked, Julie stood motionless as the guru's words spat over her young body at the crowd. "This is your Head Priestess. Kneel and do her reverence. The Virginal Head Priestess. The Head Virgin amongst my Chosen Women."
As if in a daze, Julie thought she heard the sound of Roddy's reassuring American voice as he mumbled in the background.
"Her cunt may still be cherry, but her head won't be virgin after tonight."
Though the sound of Roddy's reassuring American accent brought a touch of the commonplace into the unusual situation that she was in, the meaning of Roddy's words confused Julie. And what was all this talk about being a virgin. A Head Virgin. After all the pounding pricks that she had sucked on, she could hardly say that her head was still cherry. Or her armpits, or anywhere else except her clammy, longing twat that still demanded attention after all of the sex-filled days and nights she had been in perverted, promiscuous Los Angeles.
The guru's voice trembled with a passionate intensity as it cut in on Julie's thoughts. "And now, you will apply your mouth to the sacred yang of the Holy Swami Guram Zubri."
Julie felt his firm hands upon her head as he gently forced her down to a kneeling position on the cushions in front of him. As if mesmerized, she watched him peel off his flowing robes until only a cloth covered his waist. His thin legs looked incongruous as they stuck out from beneath.
The tense crowd seemed unaware of his frail, skinny body as they breathlessly awaited his next move. With agonizing slowness, he unwound the covering from his middle. Julie's eyes were inches away from the long, sinuous, snakelike prick when it fell clear of the material.
Instinctively, her mouth dropped open in awe of this monstrous prick that grew from the emaciated loins of the guru. Smiling his approval of her reaction, Guram Zubri grasped his hands behind her head and pulled her open mouth onto his tool. Remembering her previous experience with another huge, mouth-filling erection, Julie swallowed hard as she felt the rigid member sliding over her wet tongue and pushing its way down the sensitive tissue of her throat. By a supreme effort of concentration, she prevented herself from gagging, as inch after long inch of Guram Zubri's snake insinuated itself down her throat. With a feeling of satisfaction, she felt the spongy slap of his testicles as they registered against her chin.
A cry of wonder and admiration burst from the amazed crowd. "She does it. She has taken all of the swami's yang into her mouth. His seed will not be wasted in one so compliant and receptive."
Julie felt the massive prick stirring deep within her for a few convulsive moments. Then, with practiced slowness, he began to withdraw it, allowing every ripple and convolution of Julie's arched throat to caress it as it slipped past.
Exclamations of joy came from the guru above her. "Ahhhhh, she does well, does our priestess."
Inch by inch the long dong was withdrawn from Julie's sucking red lips. Her saliva glistened on the brown skin in the bright lights. The pulsating head rested on her tongue at last and Julie closed her eyes and settled down to give the swami the blow job of his life.
Half convinced by the impassioned speech of the swami, Julie felt that this was the special occasion that all her previous lessons in cocksucking had led up to. Searching under his stretched foreskin, Julie's tongue found the sensitive glans at the head of his slimy, oozing dick. The salt taste of his emissions goaded her on to the reward of his bursting climax. Her tongue flicked like lightning around his conductor. The electric stimulation of her licking tongue convulsed the twitching swami until he was clutching her head in a grip of iron. A wet slurping sound came from her lips as she sucked on the tense flesh of his rod without faltering in the steady revolving motion of her tongue.
"Bless you, my child," the swami's grimacing mouth uttered.
Faster and faster, her pointed pink tongue circled the iron-hard intruder as her head jerked with a trancelike motion back and forth.
Reaching up, her hands stroked the tensed balls in the swami's wrinkled scrotum.
With a shudder, Guram Zubri pulled the frantic head away from his immense shaft. "Steady. Not so fast," he begged her. "This is a sacred ritual that my people must share."
With an effort, he raised his voice and addressed the excited crowd. "This is indeed the promised moment. All people must share in the communion. Those of you who are sufficiently inspired will turn to the nearest person and repeat the sacrament that is being performed by the High Priestess and your guru. Do as you are bidden."
Nothing loath, the frenzied crowd tore the clothes from their eager bodies and sought the sucking mouth Of the person next to them.
In an excess of religious zeal, couples threw themselves on the ground and formed the sixty-nine position. As hundreds of cocks slipped into eagerly moist mouths, Julie felt a tangible wave of sexual communication rise from the heaving moaning mass in the plaza and sweep over her in a crashing wave. Among the frenzied moans, she could hear the unmistakable lapping sound as the men's tongues scooped up the juices of their partner's love pit.
Her own wet twat flooded with the insistent need for a hard prick to slide into its yearning depths. Alone, out of all the assembled women, Julie was the only one that wasn't getting as good as she gave.
Resignedly, she slid her mouth onto Guram Zubri's hard member. Twisting her head, she looked around to see who was blowing Roddy.
If only she could feel the length of his prick forcing its way into her burning pussy. She would be happy to blow the swami until the wax came out of his ears.
Slowly, her eyes swept along the line of naked monks, each with a temple maiden attached to the end of his pumping prick. Roddy was not among them. Where was he and what was he doing?
Then she spotted him just as his figure merged with the shadows at the end of the terrace.
"Damn him," she thought. "He is walking out oh me. On me, on everybody. Even if he doesn't really go for this religious stuff, surely he is not going to miss a chance to get his tubes cleaned. Maybe he's queer," thought Julie spitefully. Maybe he's gone to ream out somebody's asshole. Well, to hell with him. I've got a length of dong in my mouth that will keep me occupied for a little while."
With renewed vigor, Julie sucked the erect cock into her warm mouth and gave her concentration to timing her suck with the thrust of the guru's hips.
Suddenly, the lights went out, blanketing the copulating masses in darkness.
The reassuring voice of Guram Zubri flowed through the blackness, like balm. "Do not be alarmed. It is only a power failure. Everyone must carry on with the ritual. Keep sucking until the blessed sperms engulf you."
Suiting action to word, the swami closed his eyes in the darkness and surrendered himself to the delights of Julie's rhythmic tonguing of his bulging prick.
A sixth sense made Julie aware of stealthy footsteps approaching her across the pitch black terrace. Furtively, the footsteps made their way around oblivious couples as they rocked in the ecstasy of their passion. Steadily they padded on until Julie felt a hand touching her bent ass. One finger slipped inside her saturated cunt lips and touched her erect love button.
A dull fleshy thud came from behind her as the unknown violator knelt down, doggy fashion at her rear. Two large, masculine hands crept around her back and clutched at the firm, white protrusions of her tits.
A man's voice whispered harshly on her neck. "Keep sucking baby. Don't stop. It's me, Roddy. I turned the goddamn lights off at the main. Can you keep old dry bollocks busy while I slip you a length from the back?"
The relief swelled up in Julie's stomach. Running through her happy body, she broke out around Guram Zubri's huge dong in a happy, bubbling cry. "Oh ... Yes ... YES ... Give it to me all the way."
Obligingly, the two men obeyed her and Julie felt the strong probes of her two impassioned priests plunge hilt deep into her tight, untouched love pit, she wriggled back onto it with a sigh of satisfaction.
At last she was getting laid and it felt every bit as good as she knew it would. But a small twinge of conscience-fed doubt stabbed through her like a toothache. If her sucking on the guru's cock was some sort of religious deal, like all that stuff about his sperms living on inside her body, was it right that Roddy should be driving his gloriously big prick into her enveloping pussy at the same time?
But the swami's words came back to her reassuringly-"To be pure in mind, all is holy. No matter what shall happen to you during our rituals, you are to submit and your sanctity shall keep you chaste."
"Oh well," she thought, "why not do as the man says?"
She "munched contentedly on Guram Zubri's tool as he swayed in the concealing darkness above her. The wet sounds of sex came from all around her before she blotted them out and concentrated on the stiff thrust... thrust... thrust of the hot pricks that ripped their muscular way into her fulfilled flesh.
