Chapter 1
Horizontal Travelogue
"I took off from home two days after my sixteenth birthday. Not that the birthday had anything to do with it. It was more the time of year. You know, you kind of don't want to hitch rides all over the country during the coldest months, so I waited until May and then-poof-I split.
"This goes to show that my exit was not one of those spur-of-the-moment things. No way. I had the whole caper planned for nearly a year, ever since I had a session with my mother after they found out I had had sex with Bill. I mean they just would not leave me alone about it and I knew I just had to leave.
"We live in Toledo, Ohio. One of those solid old fashioned American families that all the politicians talk about being the salt of the earth and the backbone of the country and all. You know, the silent majority. Except that when it came to family life, we were anything except silent. To tell the truth, I think the average zoo or dog pound is quieter than our house.
"There are five of us kids, three boys and two girls. But my sister was the eldest and off and married, so I as the baby of the family had four men and my mom to contend with, and if you think being the youngest and baby sister and all means a spoiled life then you don't know my family. All we did was fight, and half the time it seemed that I was everyone's target. You see, my sister had to get married, having gotten knocked up while still in high school, so, with that for an example, my folks decided that little Sharon here was going to go down a different path. Which meant my being watched like a hawk and being constantly harassed with questions as if we were in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition.
"And my brothers were no help. All they cared about was bikes and baseball or football. I couldn't trust any of them because they figured that the less they had to do with me then the less my folks could blame them if I got into any kind of a mess.
"I never did get into what you could call a mess, but last year I did have this thing with Bill. He was two years older than I. We met in the Public Library where I was working on some stuff for the biology class. One thing led to another and we were soon dating, except that my parents didn't know about it. I won't bore you with the details about how I got around that, but a smart girl can figure out quite a number of acts to cover up, and I always was told that I was intelligent. Also that I was good looking. Bill said I reminded him of Natalie Wood in some of her early movies on TV. I never saw any resemblance except for the figure, but then one is a poor judge of oneself.
"At any rate, I guess I was in love with Bill. It seemed perfectly normal for us to finally go all the way with each other. I mean I had read all the books about sex, so I was more curious than worried. Bill had more experience than I did, so he guided me along, and although the first time it hurt like hell, I got to really like it after that. We did about all the things normal people do, I guess. I mean all the positions, oral sex and stuff.
"But then my folks found out and all hell broke loose. It seems that after one date I had not been careful enough. We had spent the afternoon at Bill's house when his folks were away, and after the usual balling I got dressed and ready to leave, but Bill, that horny guy, wanted to come one more time. I didn't want to get undressed again, so I blew him ... He got so excited when he came that I missed getting it all in my mouth and a lot of his semen got on my blouse. Since he was making me come with his finger at the same time I didn't notice it, and by the time we got ready to leave it had dried. Well, that was what Mom found when she was doing the wash. Right away she knew why the blouse was stiff around the collar. That's a new version for that 'Ring around the collar!' commercial for you!
"There was no chance for me to lie or defend myself. I was simply stamped a whore and victim of perverts and things like that. I was to be watched at all times, to go nowhere unescorted by at least one brother, and all kinds of crap like that.
"Well, you can imagine my brothers' attitudes when they found themselves stuck with me whenever they felt like doing something. It wasn't long until my life was unbearable, and little Sharon decided to split the scene.
"I made my plans carefully. All year I saved money and then one morning two days after my birthday I was gone, taking only a sleeping bag and a small suitcase with clothes. I got a bus ticket as far as Chicago, then headed west on thumb power.
"Why west? Well, if you're from Ohio, there are three directions you think of going: Florida, New York, or California. Florida seemed too remote, New York I hear is all dirty and full of junkies and garbage, so I thought California would be an ideal place and climate to get a new start somehow. So I went West.
"At first, when I was going by bus, the trip was very pleasant. People were very nice to me, helping me with the luggage and buying me sandwiches and all. I guess as long as people think you've got money they treat you with consideration. But once my reserves got so low that I had to literally hit the road, then things got wilder.
"From Chicago I got a ride on Interstate 80 to Davenport on the Mississippi with a tractor salesman returning from a convention in Detroit. He was a nice guy who kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye without saying anything. He was hungry, but also very much married, so he was completely harmless. Even got me a coke and a hamburger on the way.
"I really didn't expect to have any trouble across the Midwest either. After all, all you read about places like Iowa and Nebraska are about how wholesome the people out there are. The weather was fantastic, so I looked forward to a really enjoyable trip.
"It took me longtime to get a ride out of Davenport. The entrance to the Interstate was full of ragged long-hair types, so I kept away from them. Finally, however, a car stopped for me. Much to my surprise it was a woman.
"Get in before the perverts get you, honey!" she said. I wasted no time and in a couple of seconds we were on our way.
"She was an attractive blonde with short hair and a kind of sure way about her. She said her name was Janet, that she was a medical technologist, and that she was on her vacation, headed for Yellowstone. She did most of the talking while keeping her Chevy Impala at a good 85 mph all the way. Told me all about her career, about St. Louis where she worked, about her family and stuff. She liked to play tennis and ride horses. Since I can't do the first and am allergic to the second, we didn't exactly have much in common, but this didn't stop her from getting friendlier and friendlier. She sympathized with the fact that I had such a rotten home, didn't blame me a bit for taking off, and kept saying how she hoped things would work out for me on the Coast. To tell the truth, I got to like her a whole lot. I mean it's rare that older girls pay any attention to you at all, not to mention really getting interested in what you have to say. Janet must have been a good ten years older than I was, but she wanted to hear everything I wanted to say.
"Well, when two girls get to chatting like that, then time really flies. Before we knew it we were through Des Moines and half way to Omaha. It was starting to get dark, so Janet wanted to stop at a motel, claiming she got too tired driving at night. I was afraid that I'd wind up on the highway by myself in the darkness, but Janet asked if I wanted to share a room with her. Silly question.
"She got a very nice room and I helped her drag in her suitcase and stuff and we made ourselves at home. I had been virtually without sleep for about two days, so that double bed looked awfully good to me.
"Janet was awfully well organized. She had along sandwiches, milk, even some wine. After we showered she made us a meal. At first I felt kind of funny since I didn't have any bed clothes, and after Janet came out of the shower in a see-through negligee, I felt like a real tramp wearing just an old army shirt. But Janet gave me one of hers, and pretty soon we were sitting and giggling on the bed like a couple of coeds.
"I bet the guys tell you you're really stacked," she said, referring to my all too visible curves. I told her that it seemed to bring nothing but trouble and she said she thought all men were a bunch of pigs anyway. Considering about how I felt then regarding my brothers and father, I could only agree with her.
"Janet herself could hardly be called stacked, except that she did have the kind of figure I always admired. She was very slim and athletic, with small breasts and a well tanned body. You could tell she was into sports and stuff.
"Anyway, after we had the sandwiches, Janet asked me if I wanted some wine. I had never touched the stuff in my life, so this was as good a time as any to try. Nobody ever told me how to drink, so I drank the first glass as if it were coke. Wham! It made me woozy in a matter of minutes. A couple more glasses and the room began to sort of tilt, and I could see two Janet's sitting on the bed and laughing. I don't remember even saying 'good-night'. I just crashed and the light went out.
"I started to dream about Bill. I dreamt that we were at his place when there was no one else there and we started to make love. He felt my breasts and stroked my body all over, kissing me on the mouth and on my nipples. But the dream was not quite like reality. As I already said, Bill had always been a horny bastard. He'd get so excited all the time that he wouldn't waste much time on foreplay. It was always grab, squeeze and then wham! He'd be inside me. But in the dream the foreplay just wouldn't quit. Sensuous fingers were caressing every part of my body, and gentle lips brushed my skin delicately. It was driving me wild. So wild, in fact, that I woke up.
"At first I didn't have the slightest idea where I was, all I knew was that I was terribly excited, but that Bill somehow was not around. Then I remembered Janet, the wine, the motel room and suddenly I realized that it was her down there between my legs, her face next to my pussy, her hands all over my body. I gave a startled little cry and jerked a bit in surprise at the realization of what was going on, but one of Janet's hands reassuringly stroked my breast.
"Shh, honey," she whispered, "don't be frightened. Just relax and let me make you feel good all over."
"Probably if I had not had the wine and had not been so tired, I might have reacted differently. I don't know, I always felt that lesbianism was something deviate. But at this point I was still half asleep and I had already been brought to a sort of lazy excitement, so I simply lay there passively. After all, it was pleasant, so there could not be anything really wrong in enjoying it.
"Janet's mouth now came in contact with my pussy, and I have never felt anything so gentle and sensitive. When Bill used to go down on me he just rooted around gobbling away so that often I cried out in pain. But Janet's mouth was a precision instrument that used everything-lips, teeth and tongue-with a sensuality which was fantastic. She sucked in the inner lips of my cunt and, while they were inside her mouth, the tip of her tongue probed between them, softly caressing my clitoris. Electric shocks ran through my whole body at each gentle touch. She kept one hand around my breasts, caressing and fondling, but the other now vanished somewhere until I felt her fingers probing into my vagina. She inserted them only a little way, then carefully ran them around the opening, widening it and making me feel as if I had an enormous cock in bed with me that was slowly trying to get inside me. It was too much. I started to moan and respond with my entire body. She murmured her pleasure and the fingers probed deeper while her tongue tip flicked faster over the tip of the clitoris. When I just could not stand it any longer she suddenly sucked in just my clitoris between her lips and drove half her hand inside me. I exploded into a series of wrenching heaves that seemed to go on and on until my orgasm finally subsided.
"As I lay there in a daze, breathing heavily, Janet stretched out beside me and looking at my exhausted body masturbated herself. She did it with quick, gently probing fingers, making herself come within a couple of minutes. We then entwined our legs and fell asleep in each other's arms.
"Strangely enough, nothing was said about all this in the morning. Janet bought me breakfast and we talked about everything except sex. I guess this sort of thing was simply a natural thing for her and not really worth commenting about.
"I was quite glad about it, because frankly I did feel slightly ashamed, and I have no idea if I would have been able to discuss it.
"Unfortunately Janet's car had something wrong with the carburetor, and we were hardly on our way when the engine started missing terribly. We pulled into a gas station and when I found out that repairs would take a long time, I decided to go ahead. Janet was very hurt, I think, but in the end she saw my side of it, and after giving me her address and a fond hug we parted. I left her at the station and stuck out my thumb on the Interstate.
"The car had broken down close to Lincoln, Nebraska, so there was plenty of traffic coming up the on-ramp on which I stood, but for a long time nobody stopped. Some men slowed down a couple of times, but in the end kept going. A State Trooper gave me a cynical once-over, and for a moment I was scared that he would pick me up as a runaway. I suppose the full figure I have fooled him about my age, because he too kept going.
"I was getting to the point where I felt there would be no ride at all, when this huge tractor-trailer rig comes up the ramp and with a hiss of airbrakes comes to a halt beside me.
"Hop on up, kid!" a man yelled down and the door opened. I had quite a time getting up there, dragging my sleeping bag and suitcase, but I finally made it. I hardly had a chance to slam the door shut when the truck roars off with much changing of gears.
"The driver was an older man. In his late twenties or early thirties, I suppose. He was very tanned and had a weather-beaten lined face with sparkling, laughing eyes and a friendly grin.
"Fred's the name!" he said when we rolled onto the highway, "But all the guys on the road know me as Fast Freight Freddie."
"Sharon," I said, shaking his hand. It was tough and calloused.
"You a minor, Sheree?" he grins at me, "Runaway?"
"I'm eighteen and I'm going to a job in California," I said, but I felt myself blushing. He took a squinty-eyed look at me and laughed again.
"Yeah, I'll bet. Want to see how you'll squirm when I ask you for ID?"
"I squirmed all right.
"Well, don't worry, Sheree. Me and you will part company before we hit the Colorado line. That way nobody gets hurt. You'll want to be going Cheyenne way anyway. Me and my Peterbilt here, we're headed for Boulder."
"It was nice of you to pick me up," I said, trying to be pleasant and grateful.
"Oh, I figure you'll make it worth my while," he said, "there's a cutoff I know near Lexington where we can park the rig and have us a lunch and a dip in the North Platte. Hey, that's York coming up on the right! Vroom! Honk! There it went! You ball, little girl?"
"I didn't know how to answer that. I guess I got red.
"Yeah, you ball. Maybe not much, but you've been laid. I can tell that by the eyes. If you hadn't there'd be shock in them, you're just blushing 'cause you know I know ... Well, honey, that's the way you pay for your mileage."
"I was stunned. Did he really mean I'd have to make it with him just because he gave me a ride?
"He must have seen my face because he just grinned lewdly at me.
"Hell, honey, what did you see when this rig rolled up to you? A Yellow Cab? Look, no meter. There's no Salvation Army sign on the side either. What it says out there is Fred's Fast Freight. A private enterprise with yours truly as sole owner. Captain of the ship like. You want a ride, I want to ball, so baby it's either off you jump at the next rest stop, or you take a dip in the North Platte with old Freddie here. Aurora on the right! Vroom! That was it! Honk!"
"Why didn't I insist on getting off? I don't know. I wanted the ride. He was funny and not at all mean looking. Maybe I thought he was only half serious. I don't know. At any rate, he got off the highway at Lexington, we crossed the river and were soon bouncing over a dirt road with green wheat on one side of us, and the North Platte on the other. He pulled the rig into the shade of some trees, and the first thing I know we are outside with a blanket for a picnic table and Fred is examining the contents of a large lunch box.
"Salami and cheese," he said and closed the box, "but that's for afterwards, when we need strength. Meantime you-all come here, Sheree and let me teach you how to shift gears on a Peterbilt."
"Grinning happily, he pulled me down on the blanket with him and, encasing me in a bone-crushing embrace, kissed me with overpowering force. I gasped for breath, at the same time realizing that he had just removed my jeans. It was all so smooth and professional on his part. Before I knew it we were both naked on the blanket, in full view of the meadowlarks skimming about in the sky. I now realized the difference between men and boys. Bill had been a neat looking, athletic boy. Fred was a hairy-chested, muscular and powerful man. When he crushed me to his body and I felt the roughness of his body hair against my breasts I felt a terrible excitement and a desire to be taken by him. I also felt something else, an enormous, hot and muscular cock pressing against my abdomen. He leaned back for a moment and gave me a good view of it. Must have been proud of it. It was twice the size of Bill's. A crowbar-like pole, with a pinkish-blue bulging head rearing out of a matt of black hair. His balls were tucked up against it in huge, taut hairy sacks, and the whole thing simply looked like an apparatus for destruction.
"I never imagined they could get that big," I said in perfect innocence, because I was simply awed by it.
"That's because you've been balling kids," he said, "takes more 'n long hair to make a man, Sheree. Now, I'm good for a couple of shots, so why don't you suck the first one off, just so you sort of get the taste of it?"
"He held it up at the base so that it pointed straight into the sky, and I snuggled over to be able to suck it, I had always thought I did wonders for Bill, but this was a different matter and I found myself badly equipped for it. I could only get the head of it into my mouth. It was simply too big. When I tried to get more in, Fred yelled: "Hey, watch those teeth! You a beaver or something? That's the only stick shift I got!"
"So I cupped and squeezed his massive balls with one hand, and used the other to masturbate his shaft, while sucking and licking at the engorged head. He seemed to like it, for I heard him give a couple of pleased grunts. I started to work my tongue all around it, constantly jacking him off. When I started to mouth the underside of the head with my lips and tongue, right where that sensitive piece of skin is, he gave a groan and a hot splatter of semen hit me in the face. Quickly I took the whole head inside again, sucking like crazy, my hand squeezing as hard as I could on every down-stroke on his shaft. He squirted one batch of semen after another into me and there was so much of it that I could not swallow it all. It ran out the corners of my mouth, down his dick and over my pumping hand. At last, when the ache in my jaw was unbearable, he stopped shooting and the head got softer and smaller. I let it slide out, gasped for breath, and wiped the streams of semen from my face.
"Well, you may have a toothy little mouth, Sheree, but you sure got dainty little hands and a right smart tongue," he said, "but you just keep right on shifting gears down there like you been doing, and we'll have the rig highballing again in no time."
"I suppose it was a compliment of sorts, so I smiled. My mouth was still full of the sticky, bitter-salty semen and I was slowly swallowing it down. I kept jacking him off, raising the foreskin as high as it would go over the head, then pumping it down again. My hand and his cock were all covered now with white lather, and the big, half limp thing felt hot and slimy and alive in my grip. But it did not stay half erect very long. It jerked a few times, bobbed a bit, and then started to expand and harden. A few more strokes of my hand and he was as big as ever. I felt a secret pride at having done that to him so quickly. Bill always conked out for a longer period.
"When it was back up, Fred took my hand away from it and propped it up into the air again. "This time you just sit down and make yourself at home on it, honey," he said.
"I straddled him and eased myself down upon the massive shaft poking up at me. When the enormous head touched my pussy, it literally touched all of it, from the very front to the back. I could not imagine how I would be able to get it inside me, but I resolved to give it a damn good try. Fred was patient with me. At first I just moved my pussy back and forth over the head, getting it within the outer lips. This excited me terribly because on each brush the head would touch my clitoris. The excitement in turn made my lubricating juices flow, and soon I felt the tip of his cock getting all wet and slimy. I now tried to skewer myself onto it, but it was difficult. A part of the head went in, then a little more, until I was jammed right onto the heavy, hard ring at the base of the head. I felt I could go no further, but then Fred gave a quick sharp lunge with his hips, and in a painful flash the head vanished inside me.
"I cannot really describe the feeling. It was as if I had taken a hot glowing orb within me. A big round hot object that completely filled my vagina. Trembling with pleasure I slowly allowed my body to sink down upon the hard shaft of his cock. Inch by inch it sank into me, stretching the walls of my vagina and making me feel as if it were penetrating my entire abdomen. At last I felt the pressure of the head against my cervix, and although I had not sank down to the base of his cock, I was completely full of it.
"Very slowly, because I was still awed by the size of the thing I had put inside me, I rose off it, feeling its distended form ripple over the folds within my vagina. I came up so that only the head of his cock was anchored inside me, then I sank down again. Soon I had lubricated the entire length of his cock, and I could do it faster, rising and falling on it, each time driving it up into me all the way to the end of my own cunt.
"I had never been so gloriously filled before, and each thrust of that huge organ of his sent new waves' of excitement through me. I could not stand it, and I began to come, sobbing at the same time with the ecstasy of it. I drove down as hard as I could onto him, not caring if he ripped me apart, my orgasm driving my body with uncontrollable spasms of my pelvis. I rocked and swayed on top of him, half conscious and fighting to keep my balance. And then, when I thought my climax was beginning to subside, Fred suddenly sat up, twirled me around on his dick as if I were a toy, and I found myself down on all fours with him still in me from behind. His strong hands reached around and firmly gripped my breasts, squeezing the nipples, and he began to drive that torpedo into me with all of the brute strength he had. I started to come all over again, my whole body quaking until I fell on my face, my ass still up in the air and hung up by that piercing monstrous cock of his. His balls were banging the back of my pussy and there were loud wet and sucking sounds as he rammed me. I was eating the blanket and moaning and shuddering when I felt the searing hot jet of his semen burst into me. Pumping it into a lather, he deposited what seemed to be quarts of it in me before he finally let go of my hips and eased his meat out of my cunt, allowing me to collapse exhausted onto the blanket. God, did I know I had been fucked by a real man!
"I lay there gasping on my stomach, and Fred sat beside me hardly breathing hard. Then he scooped me up and suddenly we were in the chilling waters of the North Platte. I screamed, he laughed, and the two of us fell in over our heads. In a few strokes we were back on the shore, but now I was laughing, totally refreshed and cleansed of sweat and semen by the sudden plunge.
"Well, honey," he laughed, "now I guess I've spoiled you for every other man. But let's get some chow, you've earned it. All this horseshit is raising hell with my schedule and we gotta get that Peterbilt back rollin' on the old road."
"I suddenly felt a longing to stay with him. To stay in that damn Peterbilt of his that he loved so much, and go anywhere he went, and to have that hard body of his against me and all that fantastic cock ramming in and out of me. But Fred went his way. We rolled up the blanket after lunch and were soon back on the Interstate. He dropped me off in Big Springs, near the Colorado border, and then he was off. There went Nebraska! Vroom! Honk! And there went the most fantastic piece of sexual equipment I had ever seen."
The problem with the subject, Sharon, which drives her to leave home is possibly more overtly sexual than some others this study may concern itself with. Her identity conflict is strongly rooted in the undeniable fact that her level of sexual maturity (i.e., her ability to engage in sexual intercourse with resultant orgasm) has far outstripped her level of emotional maturity.
Thus, while she achieves various sexual relationships without undue harm coming to her, she fails various times in the course of this excerpt to make use-for the purposes of growth-of the opportunities that her adventures afford her for self-discovery and the development of the ability to make successful and healthy emotional relationships.
These include such potentially useful adult contacts as that made with the lesbian-or bisexual? It is not quite clear from the brief interlude described here-Janet, from whom she learns certain things about her own bodily functions, and the exploitative but curiously honest truck driver Freddie, from whom she learns certain things about the sexual capacity of the male.
To be sure, it is scarcely surprising that she makes so little use of these experiences (preferring, as she does, to drift into the airless "hippie"-type relationship she finds with the young drifters she meets at the end). She is, after all, very young, particularly in the emotional sense.
It is a curious medical fact that the age when a girl reaches sexual maturity seems to be bumped back slightly with every passing year in the present cycle. Dr. J. M. Tanner reports on this situation:
During the past one hundred years there has been a striking tendency for the time of adolescence, as typified by the menarche or growth spurt, to become earlier. The data on heights and weights of children of school age and below show that the whole process of growth has speeded up and that all children born in the 1930's or 1950's, for example, were considerably larger than those born in the 1900's ... Age at menarche has been getting earlier by some four months per decade in Europe over the period 1830-1960. Other European data, though not quite so regular, agree well with these figures. The trend in height and weight at about this age is closely equivalent to this amount of four months per decade, children of ten thirty years ago having the size of children of nine at present ... It is interesting that at the same time as the menarche has gotten earlier, the menopause has gotten later, suggesting that the pituitary is involved in the genesis of both trends.
Contributing nothing of value, and much that is of real harm, to the situation is the fact that advertising with a distinctly sexual bent is directed at younger and younger girls with each passing year, each advertisement urging the adolescent girl to grow up and buy constantly-and buy products which have strong sexual overtones. These include special cosmetics, some of them allegedly blended for "problem skin," toothpastes which allegedly invite "him" to "kiss you again," and a vast stream of mouthwash and hair coloring commercials aimed at the female child just becoming aware of her sexuality. Add to these the fashion of mini-skirts, hot pants, bare-midriff dresses, no-bra looks, and you become increasingly aware of a growing bombardment of American girl children with material of a sexual nature.
Little seems to be happening to change this trend, and indeed the current propaganda directed by the media at America favors the notion that the finest thing in life, for people of all ages, is completely uninhibited sexual license. Result: the young girl in our society is becoming more and more assertive about her fancied rights to sexual self-expression at any age, and she tends to select her own time, place and method of achieving her own seduction with the willing aid of the boys she manipulates into seducing her.
In previous centuries her family would have dictated when she would marry and whom. Today, because of the rapid disintegration of family life, the young girl in high school thinks of herself as completely adult-however tragically wrong she may be about this-and demands adult "rights" to determine her own sexual destiny.
By any legal standard prevalent in the fifty American states at present, Sharon is a "delinquent child" during the entire period covered in the present excerpt. A medically or scientifically accurate definition of the term might prove hopelessly vague as to be inoperative and useless, as Dr. Robert L. Stubblefield points out:
Modern concepts of delinquency suggest that children who are called delinquent are ill primarily in terms of society, in their inability to conform to the social milieu. Since the social and cultural milieu is influenced by many factors-education, radio, television, socio-economic levels, minority racial groups, poverty, war and threat of war, civil rights movements, immigration, and many others-it is not possible to give precise definitions of delinquent behavior.
Perhaps one might say, for a start, that delinquency was the name we give a counter-culture movement consisting of one lonely deviant personality in conflict with his or her environment.
The isolation inherent in this position has a definite paranoid taint, with its exquisite sensitivity to slights, etc., in interpersonal relations. Mistrust, suspiciousness, envy, jealousy and stubbornness are characteristic. It is difficult, however, to find these traits in Sharon's personality, however easy it may be to attribute them to the collective outlook of the group with whom she affiliates at the end of the excerpt recorded here. Some other mechanism is clearly at work in her passive and devastatingly complete acceptance of their values and ideas-their "life-style," as the current cant has it. She seems much more the classic dropout or runaway than the rest of the people she travels with, with her too-easy relaxation into a posture of inability or unwillingness to cope directly with the larger environment with which her runaway tactics brought her into contact.
"From Big Springs I got a ride as far as Potter, which is only a few miles, with some kind of Sunday School teacher. He preached at me the whole way, telling me how I should be careful, that there was sin all over the highways, and that young girls are forever getting into trouble by hitching rides all over the country. I barely listened, for I kept thinking about that Fast Freight Freddie's stick shift. It still tingled inside me, and I found myself really hot and horny. He must have really made a woman out of me that day.
"Out of Potter I got picked up by a really unusual character. This big Lincoln with Florida plates sprayed gravel all over me coming to a stop, then backed up nearly running me over. The door popped open and I peered inside. All I could make out was a blond mop of curly hair and a mouthful of teeth.
"Climb aboard and trip out with the joys of health!" a guy's voice yells. I got inside. There was very little traffic, so you can't be too choosy.
"Peeling out and laying down rubber, the Lincoln took off and I sized up my new benefactor. It was a guy in his twenties who was built like Hercules. I mean it. All muscles. Must have worked years to get them built up like that. And he knew he had a body on him, for his satin shirt was unbuttoned all the way to the waist, where a studded wide belt went around his narrow hips. The car was full of weird little bottles and vials, and it smelled awfully funny. The guy gives me a big grin and introduced himself.
"I'm John Baptiste Bistiere," he said, crushing my hand with his, "known in New Orleans and Miami as John the Baptized Beast! Good, huh?"
"I guess it was my day for nicknames. I told him my name.
"You don't know how lucky you are I picked you up," he said, "I may change your whole life, Sharon. Normally I never pick anyone up, but you looked as if you were weak, so I could not help stopping. That's my mission in life, Sharon. I help the weak and make them strong. After meeting me your whole life will change. Here, feel this arm."
"He flexed his arm for me to feel. It was as big as my thigh or more, and bulging with all kinds of improbable hard muscles.
"How many inches, do you think?" he asked, "Don't know, huh? Well, I got twenty four inch arms, you know that? And what do you think my waist is? Look at it. What do you think? It's twenty-eight inches. That's right. I got the figure of a Greek god. Better. All of me is perfect!"
"Right there, at seventy five miles an hour, he peels off his shirt and wiggles out of his pants.
"Don't be afraid," he says when I gave him a wild look, "I'm no pervert. I won't hurt you. I just want you to see this bod. The body of John the Baptized Beast! Look at the legs! You think I neglected those legs! Look at those calf muscles! Then look at my abs, see how they ripple? Not an ounce of fat!"
"With each he would demonstrate by flexing whatever muscle he was talking about, pointing them out with a finger, one hand on the wheel. I saw that he either had no cock or else had no erection, because his reddish pubic hair was all I could see.
"And you know how come I'm perfect? Because I live right! I don't eat the garbage everybody does. Nothing but the health foods that my company produces. No additives! Everything organic! No fat from slaughtered pigs! No booze! You got to live inside your body. Not inside your house or car. You live in your body. It's the first thing you should perfect! That's what I've done and what I'm going to teach the world to do! Sharon, girl, you don't know how lucky you are! Here read the labels on these!"
"He shoved some bottles and jars at me, but the labels were Greek to me. It was all kinds of garbage about seeds and herbs and the inner strength of nature's miracle products. One built your bones, the other muscles, a third hair. It was crazy mumbo jumbo, and all carried the brand name of Doc John the Baptized Beast, New Orleans, La.
"While I was examining the products, Doc Beast tilted the rear view mirror and was examining his body bit by bit, now flexing this or that. It must have turned him on, for suddenly I saw something rear up out of his pubic hair. Oh, it was his cock all right, but I nearly got sick when I saw it.
"See? You see?" he pointed at it with great pride, "I told you all of me was perfect! Every detail! Just look at it, have you seen a more beautiful reproductive organ in your young life?"
"Now I knew he was crazy. The thing that poked itself up was about three inches of stubby pink meat. That's about how far up it went. Three inches. And that is about how wide or fat it got. Three inches. A three by three cock! It was disgusting. It reminded me of the wooden plugs I have seen for wooden barrels. Just a fat pink plug.
"But Doc Beast obviously loved his ugly duckling. He rotated an open palm around the head for a minute, then took the thing in two fingers. "Got to keep all parts of you in shape!" he winked at me, "Nothing stays trim without exercise!" And the weirdo started jacking off right in front of me!
"Seeing that pink snail turn beet red in his hand almost made me throw up, but the guy just kept on smiling and milking the pathetic, disgusting thing. It did not last long. Suddenly he gave it a couple of fast jerks and a thin shot of semen hit the steering wheel. He squeezed out a few more drops and let them ooze down around the cock and wiped his hand on his chest. Without explanation he also started to slow down.
"You've just seen one of the miracles of nature," he said, "you'll never see a more perfect machine. Subscribe to my magazine: "The Intelligent Monthly" and eat my products. Your entire life will change for the better and you can become a miracle like me."
"He stopped the car and opened the door for me from inside.
"Go, child, and think about what you have witnessed. I must drive on alone in order to transcend into meditation."
"Again he showered me with gravel, laid down a strip of rubber, and was gone.
"For a while I wasn't sure that I had really experienced that last freaky ride. I mean what a creep! I think if it wasn't for the fact that I was on the run from authorities myself, I would probably have let the cops know about him. Who knows when a dingaling like that might get out of hand and really hurt someone.
"We had gotten to Wyoming by the time he let me out. I know we went through Cheyenne, and I remember seeing signs about Laramie. It was getting well into the afternoon and the air was quite cool, promising a cold night. All the way out of western Nebraska I had the feeling we were climbing, and the rich agricultural fields had now turned into prairies and grazing ranges of the high plains. I began to wonder where I would spend the night, because I did have my sleeping bag along. I am not really all that much an outdoor freak, and I am terrified of being alone in the dark.
"For a while no one paid any attention to my thumb. Then a guy on a motorcycle stopped, but I was always afraid of those things so I shook my head. After a while a big sedan pulled up and a bald man wanted to pick me up. He looked drunk and kind of mean, so I passed on that too. I was getting a little depressed and hungry now, and almost wished I had taken some of Doc Beast's health food along. I mean even nuts and seeds are better than an empty stomach.
"I was sort of sitting on my suitcase and staring at my feet feeling miserable, when a two-tone horn blared at me. I looked up and this vehicle was slowing down onto the shoulder. I say vehicle because at first it was difficult to really define it any better. Only a closer inspection showed it to be an ancient school bus, converted into a sort of live-in truck or camper. Multi-colored paint was peeling from it everywhere. On a radio antenna was a ragged American flag flying upside down, the signal of distress. Flower decals and peace symbols were plastered all over it and it looked generally as if the whole thing was held together with bumper stickers. They said things like: 'If you like sex honk!' 'America-if you love it then fuck it,' 'A faithful wife: Piece with Honor,' 'God's not dead, only stoned,' and a few others I don't remember.
"As the strange thing came to a halt I could hear hard rock on a stereo through the windows. A guy with embroidered jeans, beard and blond pony tail came out the side door and gave me a big mock bow.
"Lost virgin, your shining knights have come to rescue you!" he said, "Care to make it with us in our migrant pad?"
"I was pretty amused by this strange looking outfit, so in no time at all the pony tail had me and my luggage inside. There were at least half a dozen people inside the bus, about half of them girls. Also a couple of sleeping dogs. Later on I found out that since the dogs got carsick, the kids kept them stoned when they traveled. I say kids because all the people were young, everything from about my age to early twenties. The interior of the bus was something else, too. It had crazy tasseled curtains in the windows, the ceiling was a glut of posters and the floor was covered with pieces of carpets of various textures and colors. A tape deck blared rock so you could hardly hear yourself and there was a definite smell of pot and incense in the air. Besides the driver's seat there were no other seats, only bundles of clothing and mattresses strewn on the floor. To describe the occupants is to talk almost in stereotypes, for the kids looked exactly like everything that my folks hated when they saw such persons passing through Ohio. Long hair, beards, funky clothes, spaced-out expressions and weird jewelry.
"The driver, Saviour Stan, seemed to be sort of head man in the place. He had a fierce mustache and straight black hair, and was wearing a sleeveless sheepskin jacket, bellbottoms and moccasins. Before he drove on he introduced me to the whole bunch, rattling off names like Heavy Mike, Speedy Gonzales, Melon Mary or Clitty. I naturally got them all confused and just nodded towards the interior of the bus where the whole bunch was sprawled around, nodding in time to the music and not paying any attention to me.
"Crash anywhere there's space," Saviour Stan said, and I unrolled my sleeping bag on the carpeting so as to make myself a softer place. Soon the bus was rolling again and I was able to take a better look at my new companions, although due to the loud music and heavy clouds of pot I was having trouble registering in my mind what I saw.
"Lying close to me was the girl called Melon Mary. She was on her back, eyes closed, dreamily blowing a joint. Her shirt was unbuttoned and one naked breast was fully exposed. She was a bit on the plump side with large breasts, so I suppose that's how she got her name. She also had blond hair that hung below her waist. Pony tail was also stretched out close by, lost in a world of his own due to the fact that he had put on a set of earphones and was grooving to his own separate drummer. Beside him lay a really cute chick in T-shirt and jeans, and beyond were more people whom I really couldn't make out too well.
"As the bus rolled on at a steady rate, Melon Mary finished her joint and propped herself up on an elbow, grinning at me stupidly, her full breast swinging out of the shirt. She was completely stoned, but she still made a little sense. She told me that Saviour Stan owned the bus together with Speedy, the pony tail. They just wandered all over the US, Mexico and Canada. Everybody else there was semi-transient, in other words staying with the group as long as they wanted and splitting when they felt like it. For money, the Saviour and Speedy had an easy remedy. Both were experienced as short order cooks, a skill which it seems there is always an opening for all over the country. The girls with them would work as waitresses, but all in all they would only hold jobs long enough to make it possible to get rolling again. It seems that the Saviour had an obsession about at least once going down every road in America.
"After a while Mary stopped talking, looked over her shoulder and grinned.
"Clitty's running up the flag again," she said.
"I looked back and must admit that I got quite a jolt. The girl in the T-shirt was on her back, head propped on a sleeping bag, eyes closed and a vague smile on her lips. In her hand she held the erect cock of Speedy, who paid no attention but kept on tripping with his head set. Clitty was dreamily making her hand go up and down on his cock, gently jacking him off. "It's her thing," Mary explained, "it's the way she kills time."
"They were so casual about it that after the first shock I also just sort of accepted it, although watching it like that right before my very eyes did excite me. Clitty maneuvered all of Speedy's cock and balls out of the fly of his jeans and caressed it with nice rhythmic strokes, using her thumb to tickle it underneath the head. The cock began to let out lubricant, and her thumb smeared it all around the head until it was shiny from it. Then with her other hand she casually undid her jeans and began to play with herself. She used two fingers, slipping them expertly through her hair and in between the outer lips, then manipulating her clitoris with them. She looked like she was playing the piano in slow motion.
"The sensations must have been getting through to Speedy, because he moved a bit to make it handier for the girl. I could see that now she was squeezing his cock a bit more and jacking him off a bit faster. She took her hand out of her cunt, slipped it under her T-shirt and pinched her nipples. She winced and smiled at the pleasure she was giving herself and when her hand went down to her crotch again the nipples were large and erect, poking like little stumps up through the cotton material. She now took a harder grip on her own pussy and those two fingers really began to dig in, at the same time her hand began to fly up and down on the music fan's cock. Suddenly she grimaced, closed her legs tightly around her hand and tensed all over in a convulsive orgasm. Her hand jerked roughly a couple of times in her crotch, held still, and then her body relaxed. Speedy also moved his hips a bit and as her hand came down on a downstroke a spurt of semen shot out of his cock, landing on her T-shirt. She smiled and rolled over, taking his cock in her mouth and milking him into it. He came with a couple of short, hard thrusts and I saw her throat at work at swallowing him. I found myself with my own hand clutching at my pussy.
"After Speedy came the girl just lay there with the cock all the way inside her mouth, her hand between her legs and her eyes still closed. She gave a great satisfied sigh, and I guessed she started dozing right there with the guy's cock as a sort of pacifier in her mouth.
"About this time the Saviour drove off the main highway and we started going down a pretty rough farm road. The old bus rattled and shook, but it didn't shake the cock out of the sleeping girl's mouth.
"One of the guys in the back of the bus made it up front on all fours with hardly a glance at the sucking girl. He reached over and pinched Mary's nipple. She gave him a lazy glance and without a word got out of her jeans. The guy lay down on his back and got out an enormous erect cock. With her back to him Mary straddled him and took the cock inside her, settling down the best she could on her knees. The bus rocked and swayed and she had to reach out with one hand to use the side wall to keep her balance.
"They were both absolutely passive. The guy just lay there staring at the roof and Mary sat rocking with the motion of the bus, her large breasts bouncing and jiggling.
"He calls it road-test," she said to me with a smile, "just stick it in and let the bumps do the work. And let me tell you, if you hit a good rut at just the right second it can be a real heavy trip." She looked towards the driver, "Saviour Stan, give us a few pot holes, man!"
"The Saviour looked back and grinned. He began to drive the bus slightly more erratically, now and then allowing the wheels on one side to rumble over the edge of the pavement. Mary balanced well, her face showing a kind of quiet pleasure. As the road got rougher and the guy below her would be thrust up into her by the bumps she would open her mouth in a silent groan and clutch at the side for support. Soon she was breathing heavily and suddenly hissed: "Shit! I'm going to come!"
"The bus hit a good bump, rattled over the shoulder of the road, and she rolled up her eyes and ground down on the guy below her, a low moan escaping from her lips. Just then there was a loud ripping sound and the whole bus rattled with vibrations. We had shot over a cattle guard in the road. Mary gave a screech and just came and came, her body finally sagging down into a sort of hunched over ball of flesh, her hair hanging down over her face and touching the floor of the bus. For a while she kneeled like that, resting and savoring her orgasm. When she rolled off the guy, his half limp cock slid out of her, trailing a thick strand of jizz out of her cunt. She took his cock in her hand and carefully licked it clean. That's when I winced at my own orgasm which I had pinched out of myself right through my jeans.
"The Saviour stopped the bus, looked back at the satisfied couple and shook his head grinning. He opened up a map, studied it thoughtfully for a while, then put it away and got the bus rolling again. After a short time he turned onto a dirt road and drove for a while through hilly range country. Soon it gave way to more and more trees until we were driving through a sizeable forest. When we came to a nice flat clearing he pulled into it and stopped, turning off the engine.
"Okay children," he said, "we're home for the night, Zip up your pants and take a downer if you're flying, let's get some wood and make camp."
"It was lovely. Just like a gypsy camp or something. There were these Wyoming mountains and forests all around us, a fantastic sunset over the Rockies, a bonfire in the clearing and the smell of Mexican refried beans in the air. The blare of acid rock from the tape deck gave the whole thing a really weird feeling, as if it all wasn't real.
"Not knowing their routine, there was little I could do except help gather firewood. But nobody seemed to mind. They were all kind and helpful. I got a plate of beans which, after the active day I had had, tasted better than anything I had ever eaten.
"When we finished eating and washed up the pots and plates in a nearby stream, it was already dark. Only our clearing was lit up with the orange glow of the campfire. Saviour Stan came over to where I was sitting.
"Well, little bird, think you want to hang in for a while?" he asked.
"Oh, God, I'd love to," I said, "You're the nicest people I've met since I left home."
"You're into the runaway scene, huh?"
"I nodded, suddenly afraid that it meant that I would not be able to stay with them.
"He squatted there thoughtfully for a while and stroked his mustache. "That's all right, little bird," he said, "most of the crap in the world deserves to be left behind. Let's you, Speedy and me go into the bus and see if our vibes match enough that we can make it together."
"The kids were unrolling sleeping bags all over the place and sacking out, singly or doubled up. The Saviour took me inside the bus and Speedy soon showed up. They turned on the lights inside the bus, indicated the mattresses and began undressing. It seemed the perfectly normal thing to do. In a moment I was also naked and on my back, looking up at the wiry frame of the Saviour standing over me with a long crooked cock sticking out of him like a branch out of a tree. He made a motion for me to get up, and instinctively I knew what he wanted. I knelt in front of him and he smiled down at me, taking my head in his hands and pressing it towards his cock. Almost gratefully, I let it slide between my lips and over my tongue, getting as much of it inside as I could.
"Easy, little bird," he said, "relax your throat and you can get it all in ... That's it."
"It worked. I just sort of let the back of my mouth and throat go slack and suddenly there was the hot nob of his cock back there and my nose was up against his abdomen. I withdrew and sank down on it again, terribly proud of myself. It was fantastic. I could now just let the whole thing go in and out of me without any trouble. I did gag a couple of times, but he didn't seem to mind. Reaching up I stroked his balls and they drew themselves up tightly in their sack.
"He still kept his hands around my head, now and then running his fingers over my face to feel my bulging cheeks or to feel where my lips were stretched around his cock. Without moving his hips he began to rock my head onto his cock at an increased speed, until it was literally flying in and out of my mouth. I felt the slippery foam we were churning up in there, and it began to ooze out of the corners of my mouth and all over my chin. I gave his balls a hard squeeze and he suddenly tensed, took in a deep breath and rammed my head against him so that his balls hit my chin. I felt a hot surge hurtling into the depth of my throat, and in a second my mouth was brimming over with shot after shot of his jizz. I swallowed, I let it drool out, I sucked and sucked, wanting to empty him completely. At last he let go of my head and slowly slid his cock out of my mouth. I looked up at him, unsure whether I had really pleased him. He smiled down at me then bent over and kissed me, his mustache getting wet in the jizz all over my face and his tongue probing into the bitter-salty fluid in my mouth.
"Out of sight, little bird," he grinned, "now make Speedy happy."
"Speedy. I don't to this day know if he got his nickname for dropping speed or for the fact he could fuck at a hundred miles an hour. At any rate, when the Saviour stepped aside, Speedy was there with his cock as large as I had seen it when it vanished into Clitty's mouth before. He laid me out, spread my legs and brought them up so he could get them over his shoulders. Lying down on me he slipped in his cock smoothly, got a good grip on the mattress, braced his legs, and really gave it to me. The first strokes were easy, sort of just feeling out the territory, but as soon as he found his range he began to pick up speed. I was startled by how well coordinated he was physically and how rapidly he could pump himself into me. The whole bus began to rock as he drove himself faster and faster into me. I had to reach up with both hands and hang onto that pony tail of his, so violent was the jarring. I started to come, losing my breath and fighting to keep from yelling my guts out. Speedy now became a blur above me, his cock a ramming jackhammer that seemed to be all over my insides, pumping and driving with the staccato of a rapid-fire rifle. I had no air in my lungs to scream as I came, making only funny noises from the depths of my stomach, and then wincing and grinding my teeth at the excruciating pleasure this super-fast cock was giving me. My orgasm was all over by the time he filled my pussy with his jizz, ejaculating hard and fast right up against my cervix. I was so exhausted and heaving from the experience that when he finally got off me I thought I would throw up, but after a few gasps I finally was able to get control of my trembling body. Between my legs was so much lather that almost all of my pubic hair had vanished in it. My god, did I feel I had been fucked! Not in all the weeks I had been with Bill in Toledo had I had experienced a fraction of what had happened in the two short days since I ran away.
"Man, she's got one heavy snatch," Speedy told the Saviour, "I think she'll make it."
"And that is how I found my home away from home, because from then on I stayed with that bus and Speedy and the Saviour until I was old enough to be legally on my own. Their life-style and outlook on society changed me completely, and the sexual side of life which they introduced me to made me a full woman at an age when others are still dumb virgins."
There are redeeming qualities-in the sense of their proving eventually useful in her rehabilitation-in Sharon which are difficult to find in her companions. One may only hope that she does not remain overlong at the present stage of development, but will forsake the lotus-eating habits of her friends and adopt a more positive attitude toward life.