Chapter 9
It turned out that Joe was every bit as good mechanic as he was a lover, and so when Susie and I headed back onto the road the next morning we found that just like he promised the bike was running even better than new. The engine had a wonderful smooth sound-the idle was s low and perfect that when the engine wasn't revved you could just count the pulses-on two, three, four-as the cylinders fired in a wonderful rhythmic pattern. Also, since he ha cleaned the spark plugs and reset the gaps, the acceleration was even better than before, and whenever we pulled off from a red light, I could ripple through the gears in an amazingly short time, watching the tack rise and fall while the speedometer only rose higher and higher. It was a terrific feeling, especially down there in the wide open spaces of the Southwest.
For those of you who have never traveled in the Southwest, let me take just a minute or two to describe it. It's all desert, but the desert is always changing. For miles and miles the sand is a very pale yellow and then you'll hit a stretch which is very bright pink. The scrub and the cactus grow up out of that hard soil in a surprisingly erotic tide as if there were something particularly sexy in the notion of bringing some sort of fertility in all that arid dryness. But the urge to life-which of course comes to me as that sort of animal instinct that I spoke of before-is so strong that it brings forth these wild twisted bits of vegetation even out here where rain hardly ever falls.
But perhaps the most amazing thing about riding through the Southwest is what it does to your perception of distances. The air is so clear and so dry that you may look down the road and see a mountain which looks like it's only five or at the most ten miles away. But then, even cruising down at eighty or ninety, you find that the mountain takes you an hour to get to. In reality, it was really at least a hundred miles away! And yet the air is so empty that it seems as if you would reach it in just a few minutes.
And then of course there is the wonderful desert sky. The ground is so flat that the roundness of the sky is accentuated, and seems to go on forever in an ever-rising upward arch. And the blue of it is not quite like anything that you've ever seen before. Its neither the wet blue of a seacoast sky, or the darker blue of a Midwest sky, but rather a parched and scorched but perfectly crystal sort of blue. For me, there has always been an intimate connection between these details of landscape, and the sort of erotic moods it puts me in. I think that all animals, especially the human animal-are affected by their surroundings; I feel that the different sorts of plays of light and textures of the ground evoke different kinds of sexual response. For me, the desert always me think of very languorous cool sex; unlike the friendly fucking in the com fields, the desert just makes me feel like lying down very calmly, very slowly and deliberately, and diddling and being diddled for hours.
Which is exactly what Susie and I did on a couple of nights spent in the desert before we finally made it into California. Susie, as always, spent most of the day masturbating on the bike while she watched the scenery. And, as always, I spent the day quietly gathering impressions and getting myself subtly horny from the vibration of the bike. And when we stopped, our two sexual moods merged beautifully into perfect relaxation of calm lesbian loving. The two of us had grown very close in an incredibly short time, and in addition to knowing each other's body and each other's desires with greater accuracy as time went on, we found ourselves growing to really dig each other as individuals. There was about Susie an openness and an enthusiasm that ' I tremendously admired, and of course she herself never got over her initial fascination about a woman motorcyclist.
So it was a wonderfully pleasant few days that we spent on the road, and it was almost with a kind of sadness that we neared San Francisco. Someone has said that traveling is often better than arriving, and I couldn't help noticing a little twinge of that feeling as I saw the road markers tell us that San Francisco was only fifteen or twenty miles away.
Our destination in Frisco was a sort of crash pad that Susie had heard about in her travels and where she heard there would be plenty of good grass, plenty of good people, and, if rumor were to be believed, plenty of good fucking. This pad, which was on the fringe of the old Haight-Ashbury district, but which had survived long after most of the hippie pads of the sixties had folded, was run cooperatively by a group of very spiritual beings, and it served as a haven for high-school runaways, people who just wanted to get away for a while and other assorted types who wanted to spend some time in a communal sexual sort of setting.
Well, it all sounded good but at twenty-one I almost felt myself too old for that sort of thing but of course I looked forward to trying it out. And of course I must say that the thought of meeting up with more young girls-and young men-who were around Susie's age and who hopefully would share her enthusiasm and her remarkable adolescent horniness was a big part of the attraction.
Well it wasn't long before we found ourselves within the San Francisco city limits and so I turned off the highway and started groping my way through the streets. I had never been to San Francisco before, and I didn't really know where I was going. But to me there is something very exciting about finding your way through the streets of a strange city-it's somehow like looking for buried treasure, like following a map that exists only in your own mind. You never know what you'll run into, you never know where the streets are leading but you just follow on the basis of a kind of instinct and the desire to ride, the desire to cover the ground and to get somewhere, no matter where it is. So we just rode, looking around at the beautiful white buildings, watching the fog that was already moving in a soft white mass down over the city from the north. Susie seemed very, very glad to be in San Francisco at last, and she showed her gratitude to me for getting her there by hugging me very tightly as we drove through the dark streets. The pressure of her hand around my waist and coyly slipping up toward my breasts began to excite me terrifically and I looked forward to finding the pad where we would be able to lay ourselves out and begin making love.
By a combination of good luck and people who gave us some good directions we soon found the place. It was an old sort of beat-up looking three story house, and it was painted lavender. The people in charge must have really had some sort of sense of decorating! There was a weird assortment of vehicles in front, vans mostly, but also some dime buggies and here and there another motorcycle-which of course I found a good sign. So we parked the bike and took our packs off the back and went up to the front door.
The sight that confronted us when Susie boldly pushed the door open was like nothing I've ever seen before. It was like a vision out of some sort of hirsute Alice in Wonderland-aside from anything else there was an assortment of hair like I've never seen before! There were beards that hung down to waists, there were pony tails that hung down between the cracks of young girls' asses, there were afros, there were frizzed-out freaked-out coiffures that seemed to take up whole corners of the room. Some of the bodies were hairy, most of the faces were hairy and all of the heads were exceedingly hairy. And since--as I noticed immediately after the overwhelming impression of all that hair wore off--everyone was nude, there was also a goodly amount of pubic hair to be viewed. And even the pubic hair was of an amazing variety-there was the usual dark brown curly sort, but there also seemed to be bushes here and there, blond or flaming bright red, and seemed to see a few that were trimmed in various patterns, some of which seemed to have some sort of mystical tantric meaning, but others of which were just the good old all American sweetheart sign.
Well, in addition to all the hair and all the nudity, the whole room seemed to be overhung with the haze of marijuana smoke. The sweet musky fragrance of the drug hit us as soon as we opened the door, and we looked through the haze with a sort of eager anticipation to get stoned ourselves. I myself, being a good clean country girl, have never been into drugs much, but of course I'm curious about them as I am about anything that might make you feel good so I was more than willing to give it a try. In addition to all the smoke, I also saw lots of people wearing these funny little canisters around their necks, which I later found out were amyl nitrite philters. And it wasn't long before I learned what those little gizmos were all about! And aside from that, back in a corner I saw a few people who seemed to be inhaling the base of their thumbs-I later found out that what they were doing was snorting cocaine, the Cadillac of drugs.
Susie and I just stood there and gaped for a couple of minutes-our attention was especially held by a beautiful young couple who were fucking in the middle of the room as oblivious to all the activity around them as could be imagined-taking in the scent of the drugs and the vision of all those wasted but still beautiful young bodies. And then we turned and looked at each other as if to say what the fuck are we waiting for? And we walked into one of the back rooms to find a place to lay our clothes and then came back into the main room to join the fray.
Now I've been involved in lots of group sex scenes-the one by the pond was a memorable one, so were lots of others, during the time I was hooking and during the time I spent in Joplin before taking off-but I've never seen one where the atmosphere was quite so strange as this one. It may just have been that I myself was feeling very spacy from all those hours spent on the road, but everyone seemed to be in a sort of trance. People were fucking in many different positions and in many different configurations, and even though everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves thoroughly, there was a kind of restfulness and noninvolvement-almost a kind of exalted indifference that pervaded every act.
For example, I saw a young man eating the cunt of a girl who was sprawled out in the middle of the living room. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself-I could see that his cock was at full erection while he knelt between her legs and gobbled her snatch greedily, but as soon as he brought her to orgasm, he crawled away without even sticking his cock in once and sat in a corner by himself, in a lotus position his cock still erect though it was neither touching nor being touched! And the strangest thing about it was that he made the act of just sitting there by himself seem every bit as sensual and sexy as the act of eating the woman's cunt! To put it mildly, it was a strange group of people, and though I was more than eager to join in the fun I didn't quite know how to go about it. These sophisticated city drug types were certainly a far cry from the straightforward fucking of Joplin, Missouri!
I didn't want to admit to Susie that I was at all confused-after all I was the older and supposedly the more experienced, and she looked up to me-so I just decided to bide my time for a while and see how one went about getting in on this strange trance-like fucking. And Susie soon set an example that was delightfully easy to follow by just walking over to where the cunt-lapping meditator was now sitting, and as casually as could be going down on him! He was staring straight ahead the whole time and didn't even seem to acknowledge it as she laid herself at his feet and began to suck his cock. His concentration was really incredible-she lay there in front of him, working her mouth over the head of his prick sensually. I watched the movement of her lips and I could tell that she was doing a fine job too. She was tonguing the head, tracing the outline of the wonderful ruby bulge while at the same time she ran her fingers gently over the shaft. Then I saw her bring her teeth into play, nibbling at the ever so tender prick slit, and cupping his heavy balls with her right hand. It was definitely an ace perfect blow-job and it amazed me to see him sitting there, taking it all in, and no doubt thoroughly enjoying it, without even batting an eyelash! Whether it was the drugs or the meditation, I wasn't quite sure, but there seemed something exquisitely perverse in enjoying so much while showing so little reaction.
As I was standing there watching, someone came along and offered me a pipe full of what I later found out was hashish. Trying to look as relaxed as could be, I took a deep breath pulling the drug deep down into my lungs. It seemed to effect me almost immediately-it seemed as if my internal organs were all relaxing and rearranging themselves-my head was growing light, and I suddenly became aware of blood coursing through the inner regions of my genitalia. A whole new point of awareness opened up and overtook me-I seemed to feel all the bones inside my fingers, I seemed to feel the potential milk inside my breasts! It was a wonderful feeling, and I made sure that I took three or four good deep hits before passing the pipe on.
Well, now that I had a little of the drug into my system the whole scene suddenly began to seem very natural and understandable. Although I hadn't as yet gotten into the fucking myself, I felt a strange sort of total sensuality overtake me, and I felt I could understand why it had seemed so utterly sexy when the guy who Susie was now sucking was merely sitting in the corner with a hard-on, staring off into space. And it also seemed very easy for me to go over to anyone in the room and begin fucking or sucking-whatever small number of inhibitions I might have had were thoroughly swept away by the wonderful effect of the drug.
So I looked around the room, trying to decide which of the many sprawling bodies around me I wished to select for my initiation into this wonderful new sort of communal fucking. I decided on a very slender and dark female figure who was lying on her stomach on the other side of the room. Her skin was a wonderful sort of golden brown and what I noticed first about her, because of the position she was lying in, were her beautiful buttocks, which rose up in twin orbs. As I learned later, she was Pakistani and she had the rich grayish brown skin which is typical of people from that part of the world. And the impulse I had was simply to go over to her, kneel between the backs of her thighs and lick the entire length of the crack of her ass. I -wanted just to run my pink tongue over that wonderful cleft in the grayish brown skin!
And so I did just that. I walked across the room on legs that were made very heavy by the drug, and when I reached my goal, I simply dropped to my knees between her thighs. I placed my palms on the floor to support me, and I leaned forward, letting my tongue dangle into the crack of her ass. Her skin had a wonderfully sweet and salty taste-no doubt she had already been fucked several times that day, and had done a good deal of sweating as well as having absorbed various other tasty secretions. Over and over again I let my tongue trace its way through the long cleft of ass, letting it slide along the tender skin of her buttocks, and slipping it playfully against the tight button of her anal sphincter. She lay there very calmly as I did this and her only indication of pleasure was to purr softly in a low trance-like tone.
Without even being conscious of it, I increased the pressure of my tongue. Now that I had licked all the tasty secretions off of her skin, I began to crave the feeling of the pressure of the flesh beneath so I tongued her harder, feeling the sponginess of her buttocks' muscles and most of all enjoying the tight resilience of her anus. I pressed on it, forced it open a bit with the pressure of my tongue, and then let it gently snap shut again as I released the pressure. It was a wonderfully playful sensation to be playing with this strange woman's ass with the tip of my tongue!
And I must have been in some sort of trance of my own because it was only gradually that I realized that I was being fingered! Someone had evidently come over in back of me as I knelt over the reclining form of my Pakistani princess-had come up and silently and without introduction or ceremony, as I myself had assumed my place, and had introduced a finger or two into my snatch. I didn't know who it was that was in back of me-whether it was a man or a woman, whether he or she was beautiful or ugly, short or tall, white or black-and this confusion, the total anonymity of it, seemed terrifically perverse and exciting. All that mattered was that we were all there fucking-all that mattered was that I had something in my pussy and that I had a beautiful ass to play with my tongue-and the individual faces and bodies were all merged into a trance-like haze which all flowed together into one long communal fuck. If it's true, like the mystics say, that all is one, then in this particular house all is one great big fuck.
Well strangely enough, I picked up the vibes of the household so thoroughly that as this anonymous hand was fingering me, although I was enjoying it terrifically, it did have a way of making my pussy more and more sensitive and more and more wet-I didn't feel like showing any sort of reaction, other than very subtly and very rhythmically moving my pussy around his or hers or its fingers. At the same time, I kept up my finger probe and ass-licking and this movement became so automatic that it seemed like I had been doing much longer than I actually had. I felt myself performing like some sort of machine-but not a cold machine of steel and oil, rather a huge flesh machine that was powered by some sort of will and some sort of sexual presence that went far beyond the combined sexualities of the individuals. It was all very strange, let me tell you.
Even though I was feeling so cool and calm I was aware that the juices of my snatch were beginning to flow more and more freely and I could tell that those fingers were coming into me with a bit more authority as time progressed. I lifted my ass a notch higher in the air to expose my twat more fully, and at the same time I brought my tongue down harder and harder onto the delicious flesh of the Pakistani's "rear. end. I now had her to the point where I was working her anal sphincter pretty well open with my tongue and I was even getting a bit more than the tip of my tongue up her ass! It is of course fairly common to lick someone's ass-but as I opened her more and more, I was actually fucking her ass with my tongue! There is no shame or sense of disgust in this-on the contrary it seemed like a wonderfully intimate and almost spiritual thing to do-I was gaining way into her body by a route more bizarre and more unique than any other I could think of. And as if in response to my growing excitement I felt the. fingers that were in my cunt fan out so that one of them was now pressing gently but firmly against my own anal quarter.
It wasn't long before one of the fingers was up my ass. It went in wonderfully smoothly-no doubt from some lubrication from my cunt which was pretty well distributed" over that entire area-and now that there were fingers in both my ass and my cunt I could feel the wonderful shared pressure pinching my membrane.
In a kind of sympathetic response, I brought two of my own fingers up and into the twat of my willing victim while I continued licking her crack. The volume and the pitch of her groaning increased, and I knew that I was pleasing her.
As my own excitement mounted higher and higher I became terrifically curious as to whose fingers were doing such a wonderful job toying with my ass and my cunt, but I dared not turn around. It was not that I consciously refused to turn around but rather that I seemed incapable of doing so. I was so totally involved in the rhythm of this particular configuration that I just could not dare myself to move and interrupt this harmony in any way.
But though I had no way of knowing the exact identity of my fingerer, I was at least able to surmise that it was a male because the fingers were soon removed and something that felt distinctly like a cock was put in my cunt in its place. And a goodly cock it seemed! It was rock hard and terrifically long, it explored the very upper regions of my cunt without seeming to show the slightest sign of strain. And something that was wonderfully filthy about it was that it seemed totally disembodied: whoever's cock it was, was careful not to touch me in any way with his hips or stomach, it was just pure cock going into me, pure cock corning at me in some sort of sourceless place in the cosmos.
Under the condition of excitement of getting fucked, I could no longer content myself with merely tonguing my princess' ass, and so I slipped my longest finger-the middle-into her, anal sphincter. I put it in all the way and he relaxed asshole admitted it all at once with no strain at all. The three of us were now involved in a wonderful sort of linked chain-a cock stuck in me, my finger stuck in her, and the three of us rocked back and forth. To my surprise, I found that I myself was humming, a droning note that was in perfect harmony with the groaning of the beautiful brown woman whose ass I was fingering. And at the same time I gradually became aware that the creature who was fucking me was also humming in harmony and the three of us resonated together on a perfect sexual chord., We lay there fucking like a chain that could be added on to at either end, or maybe more like a game of dominos that could be added on to at any place. Because it wasn't long before a young man threw himself alongside me and began sucking at my tits. He had a beautiful head of dark curly hair and with my free hand I massaged his scalp for him while he sucked my nipple. And the entire atmosphere was so totally sexualized that the mere act of running my hand through his hair sent shivers down my back and sent the juices spurting more heavily in my cunt. There were no parts of our bodies that had not become sexual parts-it was as if the hair on his head was in some way mysteriously linked to his pubic hair, to his cock, and to the inner workings of his entire sexual being!
And suddenly I felt myself begin to come. Now as I've said, my type of orgasm takes a long time to build, and when it does build there is a tremendous amount of tension-a kind of pain really for the few minutes before I actually burst open with ecstasy. But this was a totally different sort of sensation, a totally new kind of Orgasm than any I had ever experienced before! There was no tension, no pain, leading up to it-there was just a constant and subtle rise in pleasure until I was mysteriously at the threshold, and then the orgasm, when it came, was not of the rippling sort that racked my body, but a more subtle sort that kept radiating warmth for what seemed like hours. Because there was no painful buildup to the orgasm, there needed to be no painful backing off from it. I stayed at the peak for an incredibly long time, coming and coming and coming, but not even thinking of it as multiple orgasms-rather as one big never ending one, a real kind of cosmic come.
And to increase my excitement still more, I could feel that the cock-this wonderful anonymous cock-was spilling sperm into me. But spilling it not in the usual spurt of a man's ejaculation, and not with the usual results either. His cock stayed as hard as could be! As I attuned my own movements and sensations to his, I became aware that he was just constantly shooting single drops into me, that that stiff prick was just slowly oozing gism without ever losing any of its hardness in the process! It was amazing, these people, through an amazing sort of sexual discipline, had found a way to prolong orgasm almost indefinitely! Even the men, who are usually limited by nature's laws, had managed to transcend their own limitations and had managed to come nonstop for hours, to control their ejaculations so wonderfully that their cocks remained hard even after they had remained at the peak of pleasure for a long, long time!
And our chain didn't stop there. The young boy who was sucking my tit was soon mounted by a beautiful young girl. She simply straddled him, taking his ruby cock deep into her snatch, nor did it stop there. Another man came over and stood alongside the girl who had just straddled my tit-sucker's prick. Without ceremony, she began rubbing his penis against her cheek, and in a trancelike way she took it into her mouth and began to suck it.
And I don't know how many other configurations went on. I don't know how long it lasted or how many people we had involved in our wonderful chain of sex. I myself, exhausted from the road and totally given up to the contemplation of my seemingly never-ending pleasure, closed my eyes, still being fucked, still fingering my bronze princess' ass, and let it all flow over me. All I know is that it seemed like I was fucked forever, and when I regained consciousness it was the next morning. My cunt was sore in a wondrous way-it radiated a warmth all its own, the walls were so gently bruised that I felt like I still had cock in me. I woke up on the rug alongside Susie and seeing her looking at me out o one eye, I pulled her toward me and gave her full wet kiss on the mouth and told her that I thought she had some wonderful friends.