Chapter 4

I arrived at Zodiac shortly before dusk, one day later. The establishment was nestled at the base of steep, rugged cliffs and the access road leading from the highway to the bottom of the cliffs was a poor excuse for a decent cow path. When finally I braked to a stop in front of the most imposing of three buildings, I sighed with relief. If they engaged in unlawful activities at this joint, the only sensible method of raiding the place would be via helicopter.

As I alighted from the car I spied a huge figure emerge from the building and stride toward my car. It was a man. Actually, giant would be a more accurate description because he was six foot four at least. His hair was worn Jesus-style, and hung down to an enormous pair of shoulders. The rest of his frame was draped in one of those hippie-like ponchos. When he drew closer his face came into clearer focus. It was rugged, square-jawed, and creased with lines.

I was about to speak and introduce myself when his voice boomed! "Chuck Norman, no doubt. I'm Kurt. We don't go much for last names, but of course, that's optional. You're a day late, Chuck. We expected you yesterday."

He came on like an avalanche. Piercing blue eyes stabbed into mine from above as he towered above me pumping my hand vigorously. "Sorry. I got sidetracked," I managed to inject before he rumbled on.

"No harm done. I just hope she was worth the delay," he chuckled, lowering his left eyelid in a meaningful wink. "Now we must get you settled in. We have a full schedule tomorrow."

Climbing back into the car with me, he directed me to one of the smaller buildings and waved me to a parking place beside several other vehicles. By their model and vintage, I was in high-class company. Phantom Rolls and Maseratis don't grow on trees even in California. They looked ridiculous, though, parked next to a dune-buggy, a motorcycle, and a small Datsun.

Noting my puzzlement at the strange mixture of vehicles, Kurt said, "our group attracts quite a mixture of folks, Chuck. We get more millionaires than poor people, actually. They got more time to develop hang-ups. The poor working bastard is too tired to get uptight. C'mon. Number seven is your pad. We selected that number from your birth sign."

Reaching back, he grabbed all three of my bags, and took them into the small luxurious apartment. Following him, I glanced at the curtained apartments adjacent to mine. As T was nearing the door to my own T caught sight of a movement in the draped window on my left. Part of a head and two inquisitive eyes gazed at me for an instant, then disappeared again. Whoever she was, ugliness wasn't one of her problems. I'd seldom seen more exquisite features and such luminous brown eyes.

Stepping inside I saw that Kurt had deposited my bags and was uncapping a small bottle of wine. He looked like a cross between a Viking chieftain and a Mexican bandit in that huge poncho-like garment.

He poured two glasses of wine from the bottle and handed one to me. "Here's to human encounter. May all of your neuroses be little ones," he chuckled in a jesting toast.

I quaffed a good swallow of the delicious grape and asked, "What's the drill for tomorrow, Kurt? This is all new to me, so I better find out about the rules."

"Right," he nodded. "Actually we have very few rules, Chuck. But don't worry about that tonight. Although you're tardy, you haven't missed anything. We don't brief our encounter participants until the second day anyway. They're encouraged to look the place over and kinda settle down. Just dress casually, slacks, teeshirt, etc. If you feel like it, swim trunks are okay too, if you're a sun-worshipper. The first session is at nine A.M., right after breakfast. You'll find the chow hall without any trouble. Just follow your nose. Goodnight."

I don't know whether it was the wine, fatigue, or the relaxed feeling of freedom, but I slept like the dead. I was awakened the next morning by the soft booming sound of a gong. At first I thought I was dreaming, but as I rubbed my eyes to check my watch, the resonant tones sounded again, Christ, I thought, what an unusual alarm clock.

Quickly I showered, shaved, donned slacks and teeshirt, then emerged from the apartment to locate the chow hall. As I was closing the door and preparing to proceed toward the other buildings, my neighbor emerged.

I must have been dreaming when Yd seen the face in the window the night before because this woman bore no resemblance to the gorgeous vision I'd seen peeping at me last night. This gal looked like the popular image of an old-maid school teacher. Her hair was a mousy dull brown, pulled back and arranged in a tight bun on top of her head. Heavy horn-rimmed glasses perched on a nice straight nose. Beneath them, unfriendly brown eyes stared coldly at me as she swished by, nodding slightly by way of greeting.

As she walked ahead of me toward one of the buildings, I tried to determine something about her figure but failed. She was draped from head to toe in a loose-fitting Mother Hubbard, or muu-muu if you happen to be wearing one in Hawaii.

Following her into the building I found myself in a rather rustic mess hall. Redwood picnic tables served as dining places. I got my first look at the group, though. They all looked up as I came in.

At the nearest table, on my left, sat a brassy-looking blonde woman in her late thirties. Her blue eyes traveled boldly over my body. Next to her, a dark-complexioned young man smiled at me with friendly brown eyes. He was exceptionally handsome, in a Latin way. As he nodded the brassy blonde leaned close to him. Apparently they were here together.

At the same table was a middle-aged couple sitting stiffly across from each other. The woman was in her mid-fifties, extremely well groomed with a sad, haunted look on her face. On closer inspection I realized she was very beautiful in an aristocratic way. Her cool gray eyes met mine in timid greeting. A glorious mass of silver hair adorned her head in a perfectly shaped coiffure. She wore a soft pearl-gray sweater with a modest neckline which exposed very little of an amazingly ample pair of breasts.

Her husband was a burly, barrel-shaped man with thick wavy steel-gray hair and a pugnacious face. As I passed he turned slightly and nodded, then turned his attention back to his hearty breakfast of steak and eggs.

I spied Kurt across the room at another table which he shared with a bikini-clad redhead, a spare, sandy-haired man, and a voluptuous brunette. He waved me over to join him. As I did, I noticed that my neighbor, the spinsterish gal, occupied a table by herself, and was primly sipping a cup of coffee with one hand while reading a sheaf of papers with the other. She didn't even glance up as I crossed the room.

"Welcome to your first meal at Zodiac, Chuck," Kurt said jovially. "Let me introduce you. First the ladies. Our fiery-haired friend is Margo," he said, nodding at the redhead. "She of the raven tresses is Barbara, and this lean-looking devil is Scotty. Now, sit down, Chuck, and eat hearty."

Although Kurt kept up an amiable line of chatter throughout the meal, the only response he got was from Scotty and myself. The two women just ate quietly, each studying me in her own way. Several times I caught Margo glancing at me with a strange intense glint in her eyes. Barbara also stole languid looks.

After breakfast Kurt led the group out onto the patio at the side of the building and briefed us on the program. He explained that despite what we might have heard, nudity was allowed only in the encounter sessions, in both the swimming pool and lawn sessions, and in the hot mineral baths during the evening. In these situations nudity was mandatory. In the discussion periods clothing was required.

"Now, you're all here to learn how to communicate with each other truthfully, no matter how painful it may be," he explained. "And you've all agreed not to hold grudges about what may be said to you, regardless of its personal nature. Anyone who does will be asked to leave. If you've ever felt like letting it all out, that's why you are here. One other thing: during any session where we encourage tactile contact, any type of fondling, kissing, and other forms of body contact are encouraged, but, and this is a very strict rule, no sexual congress will be allowed. Is that perfectly clear? If you feel you can't observe this discipline, I suggest you leave now." He paused looking carefully around the ring of faces. "Naturally, married couples can do as they please in their own apartments, but promiscuous behavior among the single adults is frowned upon. OK, now we will begin with a 'deep grievance' encounter. Say anything you like. The more hostile the better, about anyone or any subject you wish." Looking straight at me he said, "Chuck, you might as well kick it off."

Every eye turned on me. I felt as though I were facing a goddamned jury. For a few seconds I couldn't think of a thing. Then as the brassy blonde looked at me with a smug little sneer, I spoke.

"Wives!" I growled, directing a challenging look at the blonde. "Ninety percent of 'em are cheats. They accept a man's financial support and repay him with just housework. They conveniently forget about love, affection, to say nothing of sex."

For about five minutes I continued spewing my hostility about wives. Finally I stopped and waited for counter-statements.

Strangely it came from my old-maidish neighbor, whose name had turned out to be Velda. In prim but anger-charged tones she said, "Men are all the same. They don't want a life companion but a harlot. Sex, sex, sex ... that's all they're able to value. Children, a comfortable home, and the harmonious pursuit of a rich life of compatibility should be the objective of marriage. Sex is necessary, of course, but shouldn't be distorted and used for idle pleasure. Why is that so difficult for men to understand?"

Before I could respond, the stocky guy with the gorgeous silver-haired wife roared, "Bullshit. You talk like somethin' outta Better Homes and Gardens."

From there the hostilities flew back and forth from every person in the group with the exception of Kurt, Raoul, the Latin-looking guy, and the wife of Brad, the guy who had leaped into the fray in answer to Velda's response. Anger, curses, and arm waving rose to fiery heights. All the while Kurt calmly observed the melee. Finally it seemed that the debate would soon take a violent turn, and he rose to his full gigantic height and announced it was time for the "pool session."

Grumbling and muttering, we all filed into the separate dressing rooms near the pool and disrobed. Boldly I stepped out and slipped into the pool. Next Brad came waddling out on his huge stump-like legs. He looked like a retired wrestler. His chest was thick with steel-gray hair which he scratched idly as he looked around.

"Christ, I can't wait to see what that old maid cunt looks like in the buff. I'll bet she hasn't even got a pussy. Probably just a peehole," he growled, then stared in amazement at a nude goddess emerging from the women's dressing room.

I didn't recognize her at first, but finally it dawned on me that the gorgeous creature was Velda. Prim, straight-laced Velda was a living, breathing sexpot under all that old-maid garb and the horn-rimmed glasses.

"Jesus," croaked Brad, "lookit that!"

Our open stares of raw lust weren't lost on Velda. A deep crimson blush crept over her entire lush body. Her full breasts bounced heavily as she rushed to the pool and slipped into the semi-concealment of the water. As she entered I was transfixed by the pure sexuality of her large firm buttocks and unusually prominent mons veneris topped with a lush crown of golden pubic hair.

Brad made for the pool and jumped in near Velda. Bastard! I'd had the same idea but had reacted too slowly.

Chagrined, I climbed into the cool water about ten yards away from Velda and Brad. Finally all of us were standing around like naked statues awaiting Kurt's directive on the "pool session."

I'd hardly paid any attention to the other woman as they had emerged from the dressing room and entered the pool. I'd been too busy concentrating on Velda. Now I turned to see who was standing near me. My eyes fell on a bobbing pair of huge tits attached to the surprisingly firm torso of Brad's wife. Her silver-gray hair hung down over her regal shoulders into the water.

Her face was a calm mask, but her eyes blazed as she watched Brad position himself close to Velda. I felt a pang of sympathy for her and moved a little closer.

"My name's Chuck," I ventured.

Turing to acknowledge my greeting, her eyes softened and she blushed shyly. "Martha is mine. A rather old-fashioned name. I don't know how I ever let Brad talk me into this lunacy. I'm so embarrassed I could die. I've never undressed in front of any man but Brad."

"Join the club, Martha," I grinned disarmingly. "It's my first group skinny-dip, too."

Kurt's voice interrupted me before I could continue. "Everybody close your eyes! Keep 'era closed tight. I'm watching and I'll remove anyone who opens his eyes before I call time. The idea of this pool session is to establish tactile communication. You can talk and touch anyone you choose but for only five minutes with any one person. If more than one couple desire to merge and discover each other in groups, that's OK. Now, remember. The idea is to establish communication by touch and talk, but no visual contact."

Closing my eyes tight, T moved toward Martha. As my fingers encountered the soft resilient fullness of her protruding breasts, she recoiled.

"Oh, I don't think I can do it," she cried softly.

"Easy does it, Martha. Just relax! Here, take my hand. There, you see, it's not so bad. Now put my hand on your shoulder. That's right. Hey. You have marvelous shoulders."

"Do you really think so ... er ... Chuck? My mother always said that was one of my good features, too," she said shyly.

Carefully and tenderly I moved my hands down her arms, slipped them gently onto her waist and traced the surprisingly full, firm contour of her hips. She trembled slightly, but reciprocated by moving her own slender fingers over my chest and around my waist, stopping just short of my buttocks.

Her breathing was rapid, and I knew the feel of my hard-muscled chest and narrow waist had put a crack in her reserve. "My, Chuck," she whispered, "you're in excellent condition. Your body tone is that of a much younger man."

"Martha, you got the greatest hips I've ever felt. I'll bet your breasts are firm, too," I ventured, and moved my hand from the soft rise of her flared hips up over her rib cage and gently cupped the heavy fullness of two lush breasts. As my hands closed about them her body shuddered.

"I've tried to keep myself in good condition. Brad just can't stand an ugly body on a woman. He could certainly learn something about touching, though. Your hands are so gentle," she whispered. "I hate to admit it, but I like you to touch me."

Boldly, I reached up and grabbed her hand from where it was frozen in place above my buttocks and moved it down. As her fingers came in contact with my flaccid cock she gasped. "Gracious. It's your ... ahhh ... penis, Chuck."

"Where do you suppose Brad's hand is right now," I said.

"You're absolutely right; Chuck. It's probably feeling up that big-busted sexpot who dresses like a lady. The shit!" she rasped, and clasped my cock hungrily in silent retaliation. It swelled immediately, hardening into a full erection. "Oh my," she giggled. "Did I do that? Why, Chuck, you're even bigger than...."

"Brad," I interjected.

"Why, yes," she whispered excitedly. "I always thought he had the biggest-er-penis in the world. The big phony. Wait'll I get him alone tonight."

As her excited fingers explored the soft globes of my testicles and fondled the bard length of my cock, I moved my hand between the smooth resilient walls of her thighs and buried my fingers in the thick foliage of her pubic hair. Surprisingly, she didn't recoil, but thrust against my hand, urging me to explore further. "Oh, Chuck, I'm feeling so wicked and sexy. You'll think I'm no better than that tramp with the big tits," she muttered hoarsely into my ear. "We'd better stop. I'm a very hot-blooded woman, really, and I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself."

I paid no attention and probed upward into the thick firm lips of her vulva. "Oh Chuck .,." she gasped and began to pull on my cock with instinctive movements. She pulled, squeezed and fondled so eagerly I felt a wild tingling sensation course from the base of my cock to the tip. My fingers groped further into the hot slick furrow of her labia and finally located the swollen clitoral bud.

I'd hardly rolled my forefinger around it twice, when she shuddered violently and covered my fingers with a sticky river of hot secretions. Plunging my finger into her vagina quickly, I triggered her explosive orgasm. God! I'd never heard of a woman coming so fast. Her vaginal muscles gripped my finger in a series of spasmodic contractions.

"Ohhh ... my God," she moaned softly and pressed her body tightly against mine.

My cock was throbbing so wildly I thought it would burst as she released it to clasp me toward her.

As she did, I felt another mass of soft flesh plant itself against my buttocks. Soft mounds of meaty breasts pressed against my back, and two facile hands curled around my waist, snaked between Martha's belly and mine, and closed over my pulsing cock and swollen testicles.

"Need a little help, baby?" breathed a low coarse voice.

"Beggars can't be choosers," I growled. "Jesus, yes, hurry!"

"Glad to help, buster, but it'll cost you later," chortled the husky voice.

"Hurry up, willya?" I groaned. Martha was still in the never-never land of her subsiding orgasm as the quick subtle fingers of the mysterious Samaritan jerked me off vigorously. With a sharp gasp I ejaculated copiously under the expert goading of the pumping fingers. Just then Kurt yelled time.

Opening my eyes, I turned to look into the lust-filled face of the brassy blonde. "Hiya, big fella. Jesus. You came a bucket. Remember our little bargain, now. Janet's my name. Room seven tonight. Bring your virgin grandma there if ya like," she said moving toward the side of the pool.

As she clambered out, I stared into the blatantly gross folds of her exposed vulva. Great draped labia protruded from the round cheeks of her ass as she pulled herself out of the pool.

Martha looked at me, then at the swaying naked form of the blonde. "Oh, Chuck. I'm so sorry. I let that creature do my part. I'm so mortified. I must have blacked out or something. I got so excited I forgot all about you, and everything. I just came around as that creature was ... er ... ah ... doing you."

"Don't worry about it, Martha," I soothed her, "it could happen to anybody. I guess you were just starved for a little action."

"Well ... Brad isn't exactly attentive you see," she explained. "I guess the grass always looks a little greener elsewhere."

"Two can play that game, baby," I said. "Hey! Why don't you come with me tonight when I go pay my little debt to Janet? A little group action might be fun. OK?"

"Golly, Chuck, I don't know." she said hesitantly. "I don't approve of ... well ... orgies."

"Forget it, then," I said coldly. "Don't be angry, Chuck. I'm just not accustomed to all of this sexy encounter stuff. I wouldn't even be here except for Brad. He threatened to come here by himself so I forced myself to come."

"You don't have any shyness in that department," I retorted. "You come like a fuckin' volcano when you're havin' all the fun."

"That's a filthy thing to say," she recoiled angrily, splashed out of the pool, and trotted toward the women's dressing rooms, furious.

After lunch we gathered for a lecture on the mysteries of encounter therapy, took a hike along the beach, then returned and ate a hearty dinner. All during the afternoon and dinner, Martha avoided all contact with both me and her husband.

He could have cared less. Every time Velda moved her lush ass two inches, Brad was there. Strangely, she didn't object. On the contrary, she seemed to relish her control over the barrel-chested ape. Once or twice Janet looked meaningfully at me. Each time I nodded, silently assuring her T hadn't forgotten and was going to pay off come evening.

I showered and flung myself down for a few winks, somehow knowing I'd need all my strength later that night.