The Oral Love Tunnel

The gray half-light of dawn was penetrating through the closed drapes as Julie awoke. Freeing herself from the tangle of limbs that were trapped around her, she sat up in bed. Dick murmured sleepily and reached out for her. His hand cupped her firm breast as he squeezed the nipple between thumb and first finger.

"Lay down honey," Dick whispered. "It's still be middle of the night."

Julie eased his sleep-weakened fingers from her breast. "You sleep for a little," she answered. "I'm going to put the coffee on and start breakfast. "I'll call you both when it's ready."

Kneeling up, she raised herself and started to crawl over Dick to reach the end of the bed. Her breasts brushed across Dick's stomach sending a soft message to his sleeping brain. Opening his eyes, Dick saw her pink-lipped poised above him.

Putting his fingers in through the cheeks of her ass, he spread her cunt apart until the lips of her vulva opened and the moist morsel peeped out" at him from its surrounding fringe of blonde hair. Leaving his thumbs between the spread cheeks of her ass, he slipped his fingers around her thighs and eased her down onto his face with his grasping hands. Pouting his lips, he sucked noisily at the still wet clit as the flaccid lips engulfed his probing nose.

Julie's breasts flattened against his stomach as she bent over and drew his half-hard prick into her mouth. Slowly, and reluctantly, she allowed it to slip from under her pursed lips.

"Good morning Dick," she said, ruffling his pubic hair. "Thank you for last night. It was the grooviest, farthest out thing I've ever known ... You lie here while I make breakfast."

Dick smacked his lips as she lifted her hot cunt off his face.

"Who needs breakfast? We've just had it." He turned sleepily to watch her as she walked across the bedroom.

"My sample case is by the front door. What size do you take?" Dick asked.

Julie brushed her long hair out of her face as she turned. "Seven and a half or eight if they're tight. Do you have any?"

Dick nodded his head as he lay back on the pillow. "You're in luck kid. There's three or four pairs in the new style that'll fit you. Take 'em all. I don't think I've got the strength to carry them around after last night."

Julie's boobies bounced excitedly as she rushed out to get the suitcase. Dragging it into the kitchen, she slipped open the catch and looked inside. Row upon row of shoes in the fabulous new fashion shades stood lined up and awaiting her choice. In the lid compartment she found a selection in her size as Dick had told her. Arranging them in a line in front of the kitchen chair, she sat down eagerly to try them on. The last's that Dick's firm used seemed to make shoes that fit her feet like gloves. There were five pairs that were way out.

Now, with the clothes that she had got from Lennie and the shoes from Dick, she had a ward-be that would take her anywhere. These and her newfound knowledge of cocksucking, gave her a confidence that she had not got on her arrival just a few short, prick-packed days ago. Leaving on a pair of mod-heeled formals, she tripped about in the kitchen hunting up the food for breakfast. She was unaccustomed to the height of the heels, which tightened the muscles in her slim legs and forced her to stand straight with a firm posture that thrust her breasts forward provocatively Going into the bathroom to brush her hair, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. Putting her arms above her head, she revolved slowly, taking in and analyzing every line and curve of her naked body.

The promise of her ripe, young body would lead her into more exciting adventures. The time was near for her to look a little beyond what men like Lennie and Dick could offer. Time for her to find a greater reward than the salt tang of jism in her mouth.

Humming her way back into the kitchen, she cracked the eggs into the pancake batter. Ignoring the electric mixer, she whipped the mixture rapidly with a big spoon. The loose flesh of her bare body jiggled in time as she concentrated on the bowl she held against her rounded stomach. A few drops of batter splashed out of the bowl and onto her flesh. Still singing to herself, she lifted them up on her finger and transferred them to the edge of the basin.

Placing the mixing bowl beside the cooker to wait until the men were ready for their breakfast, she poured out three cups of coffee. Her heels clicked across the tiled kitchen floor as she went to call the men from the doorway.

"Come on, you two sex freaks! Coffee's on the table. Come and get it."

Lennie mumbled incoherently and pulled the sheets up around his head. Dick opened his red rimmed eyes and stared at her slim white figure.

"Spread yourself out on the table, Julie. I'm coming right in."

"Don't kid yourself," Julie laughed at him. "It would kill you. Come and have some nourishment instead of punishment."

Pointing at Dick's hunched form under the covers, she continued with rising doubt in her voice. "If your friend is still alive, try and drag him into the kitchen."

With a smile, Dick leaned across the double bed and pulled the covers off the sleeping body as it lay curled and contented among the tangle of sheets. Dick rolled over onto his back with a seraphic smile across his face.

"If he's dead, at least he died happy," Dick smiled. "Just look at that grin. What a way to go."

Taking Lennie's shoulder in his hands, Dick shook him vigorously. Lennie's head rolled from side to side like a rag doll and a low bubbling sound came from his throat.

Dick beckoned Julie over to the side of the bed. "This calls for emergency treatment," he whispered. "Put your pussy under his nose like you did to me when you got up. The smell of a ripe, young cunt first thing in the morning would bring life to an Egyptian mummy. I'll guarantee the result." Giggling, Julie eased herself onto the bed and straddled Lennie's face with her thighs. Gradually, inch by inch, she lowered her damp slit onto the slackly snoring mouth below her. Closer and closer she moved until Lennie's exhaled breath ruffled the blonde fringe of her twat hair, Carefully, she closed the gap until the lips of her vulva came in contact with Lennie's open mouth. The frantic snort of his awakening vibrated through her covering cunt. "Jesus Christ," he bellowed as he pushed her away from him. "Don't ever do that again. I was having a dream that I was being eaten alive by a great hairy twat and that thing clamps over my face. I thought it had got me at last. What a bummer!"

Julie fell across the bed, laughing. Her face ended up in the crook of his arm. With a sniff of disgust, she raised her head.

"By the smell of your armpits," she said, "I'd say you already had. For Christ's sake, take a shower, will you?"

She swung herself off the bed disgustedly, leaving Lennie with the alternations of her rounded buttocks as she followed Dick into the kitchen. With an effort, Lennie eased himself out of bed and stood upright on the floor. He scratched his balls as he yawned a reply back at them. "Alright, alright. Don't spoil a pleasant dream.

"Pour me out some coffee while I go for a shit. I'll be right back."

Padding across to the toilet, Lennie stood swaying in front of the bowl as the piss poured from him in a long golden arc. Bending his legs slightly, he pressed down on his stomach muscles and felt a long rippling fart tear from the confines of his ass.

"Arrrrr," he said satisfied. "That feels better."

Closing the open door of the bathroom cabinet, he surveyed his face in the mirror.

"A few more nights like the last two," he told himself, "and I'll be ready for Social Security."

Shaking the drops off his dangling dong, he made for the kitchen. A tantalizing smell of coffee greeted him as he opened the door.

"Hey, what's happening?" he asked as he sat at the table.

Julie smiled back at him. "Want some coffee?"

She leaned across the table to reach the percolator. Her arms and body made an inverted vee while the pointed perfection of her breasts jutted out at an open angle. Momentarily, her pink nipples swept across the coldness of the Formica table top. Imperceptibly, the flat pink cap shrunk and hardened until her flesh became puckered like two firm round fruits. The plastic seat of the chair sighed as she sat down again. Her bare buttocks stuck to the seat.

Lennie tore his gaze away form the contrast of her soft young body against the angularity of the modern kitchen furniture. Looking across to Dick, he asked, "What time is your first call? Not that I'm being inhospitable and want to throw you out or anything. But if you have any ideas about waiting until I leave and then eating cunt all day, cool it. I want a little left for my supper when I get back tonight. That's all."

In turn, Dick broke off his contemplation of Julie's thrusting white form and turned to Lennie with a look of injured innocence.

"Look it, Lennie, it's a good thing I stayed here and helped burn up a little of this chick's energy. You look like you only have a couple more ejaculations left in you. And you need those to hold you together. Look at yourself, will you? If you sneezed your nuts would rattle and your arms would fall off. Yes, I'd be doing you a favor. In a spirit of pure brotherly love, I may just take the day off."

Lennie put down his cup of coffee and glared at him. "Like fuck you will. The terms are strictly blow and go ... come and run. I don't mind a friend having a little nibble, but Julie's my meat and I'll do the eating. Okay?"

Julie sat listening to the dialog. As the exchange faltered, she broke in.

"Why don't one of you ask me what I want to do for a change. If you think I'm going to be a head cook and cocksucker all night, then stay here all day and wash the come stains out of the carpet, for-. get it. I can find such pricks in Iowa. I came to Los Angeles to get some action. I'm going to look around today and see where it's at. I'm going to see something and meet people. I'm going to shoot the shit and find out what it's all about." She turned to Lennie as he sat crestfallen. "I'm not knocking you, Lennie." She reached over and took his hand. "You're an alright guy. But I'd be screwing without you. Remember what you told me when we were in that cafe? Alright, we both traded. Apart from that, you taught me a lot. Thank you."

She turned her gaze to Dick for a moment. "Say, that bit with the asshole is out of sight. Just think, every time I stick my finger up someone's ass, I'll remember you. Doesn't that make you feel good?"

Dick sat watching her lips as she talked. "Would you dig to gnaw on my bone for breakfast?" Dick asked hopefully with a grin on his face.

Julie pushed her chair back and stood up. "Talking about eating," she announced, "I'm going to make some breakfast. You know, the old-fashioned sort you eat with a knife and fork. Do you think you two sex fiends can remember that far back?"

The two faces opposite to her lit up. "What can you make?" Lennie asked. "Well," she told him. "I've got some pancakes coming up."

Dick beamed back at her.

"Next to cunt, pancakes are my favorite breakfast food."

Julie went over to the stove and picked up the batter bowl which she had left there previously.

"You guys lay the table, will you, while I do the cooking."

As she put the pan on the burner, she heard the guys bustling about behind her. With the clatter of cups and the metallic rattle of the cutlery, they scurried about in the kitchen.

Pouring the batter into the hot fat at the bottom of the pan, she watched it as it slowly spread into a golden, bubbling circle. The sound of the guys laughing came to her above the sizzling of the fat.

"Must remember," she told herself, "to tell people what to do. When it sounds like I know what I'm talking about, they'll do what I ask. I've got to be decisive, and I'll be in like Flynn. Maybe I'll get laid at last if I use the same tactics. Maybe I could walk up to a guy and look him straight in the eye and say firmly, 'fuck me.' I'll bet he would too."

The sound of footsteps behind her brought her back to the present. It was Dick, looking eager and helpful as he peered over her shoulder.

"Need any help?" he asked. "That looks good, kid. About ready to turn over too."

He pushed her to one side and took hold of the pan handle. "Here, watch this for a mind-blower. I learned it in the scouts. Stand back. I'm a killer."

Taking the pan handle firmly in both hands, he backed away from the stove and into the center of the room. Hefting the pan for a moment or two to get the balance, he jerked the pan upwards, making the crisp pancake turn a somersault in the air and catching it again in the waiting pan.

"Stick with me, kid. There are things you'd never learn in a million years anywhere else."

Laughing down at her, he put the pan back on the stove. "You know," he said in mock seriousness. "There are times when I even amaze myself. I'm a goddamned wonder, aren't I?" Julie snuggled up to Dick, nestling her slim body comfortably under his encircling arm. "How the hell I'll get along without you," she pondered, "I don't know. You've shown me how to goose you, beat your meat, lick your dick, wriggle my tits, and now how to toss pancakes. Dick, you're just a living mine of information, aren't you?"

Dick nodded sagely. "Sure am. Say, have you ever had cock and maple syrup?" he asked looking the bottle on the table.

Julie shook her head and giggled. "No. But I've it with strawberry preserves." Lennie sat bolt upright. Startled out of his lethargy he said "The hell you have. Where did you come across that combination?" Julie looked at him coyly. "Oh, I get around.

know, you meet an occasional gourmet as you travel around."

She looked down at Dick's prick which was hardening rapidly and reached for the bottle. Don't you think it would be a bit runny though?" queried.

Dick considered the problem for a moment before he answered. "Well, if you sort of lay down with your mouth underneath and suck on the tip while I pour the stuff down from the top of it, you'd get most of it right on."

Lennie cut into the technicalities of the discussion. "Not if I can stop it. What are you two anyway? A couple of perverts? Aren't you satisfied having it the real way?"

He shook his head disgustedly. "A blow job's a blow job. These weird ideas are degenerate and un-American. That's the trouble with you young people. Knocking everything that you think is out of it. Burning the goddamned colleges and rioting. Wanting jam and maple syrup on a dick before you'll suck it. Too bad you weren't alive during the depression."

Looking at Julie, he continued indignantly. "I hadn't even got jam to put on my bread, and you want to go about smearing it over every prick you see. Goldwater and Reagan have the right ideas. Should crack down on you dissidents."

Julie crossed the room and put her arms around him as he sat slumped in his chair. Her long hair tumbled down onto the back of his shoulders.

"Be cool, Lennie," she consoled him. Her breasts rubbed against his bare back as she kissed the top of his thinning head.

"This is a wealthy society and there's enough strawberry jam to go around. You'll get your share. If you're a good boy, maybe I'll make a nice dessert for you when you come back tonight."

Lennie strained his head back to look at her. Her long, blonde hair trailed across his face.

"Yeah, I'd like that." He leaned the chair backwards until the firm mounds of her sexy tits rested on his shoulder.

"What flavor do I get?" Lennie asked.

Julie straightened up and eased his chair back until the four legs were solidly on the floor.

"How about raspberry snatch?" she asked. "You're the one who seems to be suffering from a jam deficiency," she commented consolingly.

Defeated, Lennie helped himself to the pancakes that Julie had piled onto a plate in the middle of the table. Pouring the maple syrup over his pancake, he watched it sink out of sight below the golden surface.

Life's like that, he thought. Now you have it, mow you don't.

Syrupy pancakes, he'd had. Jammed snatch was something new. Though after all these years, he had learned that no matter what you got, no matter how high the achievement, you could never atop still but had to keep on going for something that was better than what you already had. He wondered what would come after strawberry twat. But beyond that his mind would not go.

This should be the absolute end to a guy's efforts. Having sucked jam out of a hot snatch, he should rest content for the balance of his productive years. But he wouldn't. He'd spend frustrated years trying to figure out something even more tray-out.

Dick broke into the silence. "What's on your mind, man?" There was a mocking tone to his voice as he continued. "Don't worry about me and your cunt. I've had all I can eat. It's my guess she won't be around for much longer anyway, so I'll leave you the last mouthful, Lennie. It sounds as if it's going to be a tasty one. But for me, I prefer the flavor of raw meat. I must be part cannibal." Julie heaped a fresh pile of pancakes on the table. Pouring out more coffee, she looked across at Lennie.

"How do I get back in here," she asked Lennie, "if I go out today? Do you have a spare key?" Lennie shook his head. "These motels only dish 'em out one at a time. Tell you what." The thought of jammed snatch ran through his mind as he continued. "I'll leave my key at the office and make it right with the manager for you to pick it up when you get back. How's that grab you?"

His eyes glittered wickedly as he thought again of jammed snatch. "Got some shopping to do for tonight's dessert, honey?"

Julie looked at him blankly for a moment. "Er, no. I was going to ... Oh, I see what you mean. Don't worry about tonight. I'll see that you don't go hungry. There'll be a box lunch waiting for you when you come in. I told you I was going out today. I want to have a look around the town and see what gives in the big city."

Julie followed the two men as they left the table and made their way into the bedroom to dress. Throwing herself down on the bed, she watched the transformation as the hairy bodies that had pounded and probed into her soft flesh became impeccable, respectable businessmen.

Underneath every tailored suit, she thought to herself, there is a sex-crazed ape just waiting the opportunity to get its prick in your mouth.

As if reading her thoughts, Dick paused as he was pulling his fly zipper shut. "Hey, Julie. Want a little lick of my joy stick before I put him away for the day?"

She sighed resignedly and beckoned Lennie over also. "Get yours out, too, or you'll be sulking all day."

Julie swung her legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed with the two men facing her. Eagerly, Lennie unzipped his fly and reached inside. He whipped out his prick and his balls, which were supported by his stretched pants' opening. They bulged under the base of his penis, making a soft couch for it to rest on. As the guys stood side by side in front of her, their hairy dongs were on a level with her mouth. Taking one in each of her hands, her head went from side to side as she alternated from one to the other. Opening her mouth to its fullest extent, she pushed her head forward onto each cock, driving it deep into her fleshy throat. Neither of the cocks were at their full hardness. Firm, but still pliable enough to allow them to bend slightly, they slipped down the shape of her throat. At each successive insertion, Julie felt them expand and stiffen, making it more difficult for her to accept them. Lennie's shorter and thicker staff was not too bad because it was unable to pass the restriction of her mouth and buried itself between the back of her tongue and her fleshy upper palate. She found that if she made the motions of swallowing at the end of each stroke, she was able to control the desire to gag over this monstrous intruder.

Dick's longer and thinner dong was a different problem. Being narrower, it could penetrate and ram deeply into her throat. As she swallowed on his thrust, the sweeping action of her tongue drew his tool even farther down her gullet, increasing the desire to throw up and making her swallow again to counteract it. Leaving her mouth clamped over his extended member, she fought for control of her nausea as he pumped slowly and deeply into her head. His balls swung loosely and slapped against her chin at the end of each stroke. Driven beyond endurance, Dick groaned and locked his hands behind her head, forcing her face down until the air she breathed was filtered through the thick mat of his pubic hair. His ass swayed in time to his rhythmic motion.

Lennie's voice was sharp with annoyance as he reached over and pulled Dick's hands away.

"Let go of her ears," Lennie demanded. "She knows what she's doing."

Julie pulled her head off Dick's penetrating prick with relief. "The trouble with you guys is you want me to make a meal of it. You can't be satisfied with a couple of quick licks after breakfast but want a four-course lunch instead. Just no self-control, either of you. Now get the hell out of here so I can clean up a little before I go out."

She turned toward Lennie and took his prick in her hands. "Here, let me put it away for you, Lennie. You've got a nice little tool that takes what it's offered without demanding more."

Resting the bulging penis head in the palm of her hand, she raised it to her lips. With her full, red lips nuzzling against the swollen flesh, she kissed it in mock tenderness.

"There now," she told it gently. "Mummy loves you, but take your owner out to earn a few pennies."

Lennie felt the coldness of the air strike the saliva-moistened flesh before Julie carefully tucked his prick away into the warmth of his pants and pulled up his zipper.

Lennie turned to his friend with a satisfied expression. "Let's get to hell out of here before we start all over again. Got to earn the rent for this place and a few bucks for jam besides."

Dick shrugged his shoulders and slipped on his jacket.

Julie followed them to the door. The bright sunlight streamed onto her slim body as they opened it. Lennie bent over to get his sample case and rubbed his face into her blonde pubic hair for a moment before straightening up.

"See you around, honey," Lennie told her. Then realizing that she was standing naked in the doorway, he screamed at her, "For Christ sake, get your ass back behind the door before someone phones the cops."

Julie giggled as she stepped back behind the door. "Don't fall off your pot, Lennie," she told him. "I can take care of a few pigs if somebody calls them."

Dick wound the window down in his T-bird and put his head out. "Bet you could, baby. And all of Los Angeles Finest and the Fire Department afterwards."

Dick turned on the ignition key and gunned the engine into life. "Be seeing you then. You've got my phone number. If ever you get tired of this sawed-off prick," he said nodding his head toward Lennie, "I've got a nice big bone you can gnaw on at my place."

He waved as he drove off. The sun glinted on the car windows as he turned out of the drive and onto Hollywood Boulevard.

Lennie stopped as he was getting into the car. Turning to look at Julie's head as it peered around the corner of the door, he addressed her paternally.

"You watch what you're doing around town today. There's a lot of no good S.O.B.s in this joint that would try and take advantage of a young chick straight out of the boondocks. Watch it, babe. Do y'hear me?"

Julie brought one bare arm from around the door and waved to him as he drove off slowly.

"He wasn't such a bad bastard," she thought as she shut the door behind her. "Maybe I'll come back and give him his jammed pussy if things don't look too hot in L.A."

But first of all, she had to have a look at the town she had traveled so far to see. She thought she would walk along Sunset Strip and just let the atmosphere of the place soak into her pores. She wanted to look at the chicks and see what they were wearing. And of course she'd give the guys the once over and speculate whether they had a mind to offer as well as a throbbing prick. Some of the long-haired types she had seen as she drove with Lennie had fascinated her.

As she crossed the room, the sunlight poured through the open drapes of the windows. Long fingers of light seemed to beckon to her, inviting her to search for the excitement and adventure that she knew awaited her out there.

Humming softly to herself, she went into the bathroom. Bending over, she turned on the taps, letting the water plunge and foam into the bathtub. The roar of the water muted the distant rumble of the traffic on the Strip, deadening the sense of urgency that she had experienced a few moments before.

Standing in front of the mirror, she pinned up her long hair to keep it out of the bathwater. Approvingly, she noted its sheen and fullness. It would be a pity to wet it and let it lose its body. Today, she wanted to look her best so that she could rise to any challenge that the hours ahead might bring.

Putting her hand into the water, she tested the temperature before lowering herself below the slightly green surface.

Gingerly, she slid lower and lower until she was completely submerged. Her buoyant breasts peeped coyly out of the distorting water. Two firm islands in a hot, tropical sea. As she moved, the water swirled, rose and receded, momentarily uncovering her rounded body. Thin rivulets of water ran off her wet flesh and trickled back into the bathwater.

The sensuously hot water seemed to have a life of its own. The rivulets felt like caressing fingers of water that were reluctant to lose the firm, white body that merged with it. Meditatively, Julie rubbed soap over herself.

A shudder of anticipation ran through her as she wondered what a long-hair would feel like. She imagined a beard nestling against her thighs as its owner's hot tongue explored the secrets of her vagina. Groovy, she thought and let her mind run riot as she surrendered herself to the sensuality of her probing, soap slick fingers.

With an effort, she beat back the mounting wave of desire that flooded into the pit of her stomach. There was no need any longer to indulge in furtive finger play. She was a woman now; and here in California ready to take on all comers. And the more they came in hot, satisfying spurts, the happier she would be. Determined, she lowered herself back under the water. The lather floated away from her pubic hair like a white ball of bubbles on fop of the water.

Reaching down, she opened the lips of her vulva and allowed the warm cleansing flow of water to flood into her. Sitting up, she reached out for Lennie's razor and carefully shaved under her arms.

If she was going to wear the see-through blouse that she'd got off Lennie, she wanted to create the suggestion of soft pink flesh through the translucent material. And she couldn't do that if she had armpits like a gorilla.

She watched the mixture of soap and hair slide down her chest and merge with the bathwater. The cavity of her armpits was hairless, pink and glowing-a suitable receptacle for some adventurous prick to slide into.

Reaching over, she put her leg out of the tub. flashing the outlet lever down with her toe, she hard the water begin to gurgle as it rushed down the waste pipe. Standing up, she reached for the towel and wrapped it around herself before getting out onto the bath mat.

Patting herself dry, she made her way into the bedroom. Moving quickly about the room, she straightened the bed and picked up the scattered clothes.

She deliberated about what to wear. The transparent blouse was a must. She thought the texture of the tweed two-piece would contrast nicely with the soft flesh that it revealed.

Wriggling her hips, she eased the snug-fitting skirt into place. Tucking the blouse inside the waistband, she stood back to get the effect. She nodded happily back to her reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, brother," she muttered. "If this doesn't make them notice, nothing will. Better wear the matching jacket as well. I can always slip it off when I really want to create an impression."

To walk about in the blouse and skirt alone, would have them howling in the streets, she chuckled.

Going into her suitcase, she selected a pair of coffee-colored pantyhose that would go well with the flaxen skirt and display her long, slim legs. Now she went over to examine the shoes that she had got from Dick. Rummaging among them, she found the perfect pair: light tan; the highly polished surface of the leather reflecting the subtle variations of shade as she moved.

Slipping them on, she walked across the room to try them out. The square, mod heels were higher than she was used to and she felt the muscles in her buttocks tighten, forcing her into an upright, graceful posture.

Picking up her costume jacket from the back of the chair, she slipped it on over her transparent blouse.

Dressed as she was in her new duds, she knew she looked good and could afford to be choosy about the dicks she licked from now on. She didn't want to have to blow the motel manager on the way out.

Slipping the catch down on the front door, she pulled it closed behind her. Her high heels clicked along the concrete path to the manager's office. The Venetian blinds at the office window parted a little and she was aware of a pair of eyes surveying her as she walked the last few yards.

Pushing the door open just as the manager reached his chair, she swept up to the counter.

"About the key for number twenty one," she started to explain.

The manager wrenched his eyes upwards from her micro mini. He swallowed before answering. "Yup ... your brother explained about it as he drove off this morning." He eyed her trim figure. "Say, if I had a sister like you visiting with me, I reckon I'd phone in sick and take a couple of days off."

Recognizing the danger signals, Julie thanked him and left quickly. Really, she thought to herself as she walked down the remainder of the driveway. The guy must be in his sixties. Don't they ever quit?

She could feel his hot eyes on her as she turned the corner. The motel was in the more residential section of the Strip and she had a good five-minute walk in front of her before she hit the main drag.

As she went past the neon signs flashing in front of the motels, she looked up at the drawn drapes covering the windows and wondered who was sucking whom in the ten dollar privacy of their rooms. Many girls like her had probably sucked their way through the very places she was passing now.

The hot Hollywood sun felt good on her head as she crossed a small junction and plunged into the dense crowds that were packing the sidewalks of Sunset Strip. Pausing in a shop doorway, she stood for a moment and watched the people as they jostled.

There were all kinds of people there. Rubbernecked tourists walked with cameras slung around their necks like a chain of office. A group of women talked excitedly in their praise of the daring fashions displayed in the store windows. The guys waited patiently in a tight little group, sneaking quick glances out of the corners of their eyes at the bra-less girls as they flaunted their bouncing boobies in front of them. Then the women would screech at them, and taking their arms, the group would set out again.

The people passed with their eyes down and mouths reading out the names of the stars set into the concrete sidewalk. There was a searching procession of people, the tail end somewhere around the Chinese Theater and the head being photographed at the corner of Sunset and Vine to prove that they had been there.

Bearded hippies, with their pale washed-out girlfriends, drifted with their eyes on distant horizons. Somewhere along the Strip, they knew they would find the magic elixir. Taking the perfect trip, they could blow the remainder of their tottering reason in some mad, swirling acid dream of reality.

Their clothes were out of sight. Really way-out. In their frantic desire to be non-conformist, their off-beat clothes had become a sort of uniform. Unless they dressed according to the rigorous standards laid down by their non-conforming, revolutionary sub-culture, they could no longer demonstrate their independence.

Two black men passed the doorway. Their hair was fuzzed high upon their proudly held heads. Julie had read of the black movement in the large cities, and how the Negroes had rediscovered their African heritage. The simple phrase, "Black is Beautiful," summed up their attitude.

One of the blacks was wearing what Julie imagined to be an African tribal costume. A long flowing multi-hued robe hung loosely from shoulders down to feet, which were rather conspicuous in baseball tennis shoes. The man beside him was a breathtaking riot of color in fashionable mod attire. His shirt was cut on a feminine style out of what seemed to be curtain material. There were gathers along the shoulder yoke and the sleeves were loose and puffed like old-fashioned leg of mutton sleeves that Julie had seen pictures of her grandmother wearing. Over his shirt, he was sporting a heavy cast brass medallion on a thick chain around his neck.

There was cool appraisal in their eyes as they looked at Julie that indicated they were no strangers to the taste of white meat. A delicious shiver ran through Julie as she dropped her eyes from their challenge, wondering if the stories she had heard about blacks were true. Someday, she promised herself, she would find out. When she raised her head, they had become lost in the seething crowd along the sidewalk.

An elderly man with long white hair stepped in front of her. His appearance was startling. He was dressed like a Southern Confederate of the pre-Civil War days. Straight from the pages of Gone With the Wind, he raised his white stetson.

"Howdy, ma'am. New in town?"

Julie gulped nervously, not knowing how to reply. Back in Iowa people would have laughed at him, but here, anything seemed to go. He wore his outlandish costume with such assurance and effect that it made you believe in him.

Julie smiled shyly. "Yes, couple of days now. It's a groovy place, isn't it?"

He nodded his head in agreement. "It sure is, missy. Whatever you want, you'll find it here. It's been a pleasure talking to you. A fresh face, especially a pretty one is always welcome."

With a courtly bow, he replaced his hat and was gone.

Leaving the shelter of the doorway, Julie ventured out onto the sidewalk. On the opposite side of the street a funky Rolls Royce, painted bright yellow, drew her attention. A small crowd had collected around it be the time she managed to cross the boulevard. Standing on tiptoe, she caught sight of a guy with shoulder-length hair wearing another curtain material shirt. His face, half hidden by a Mexican type moustache, was hard and cruel before it broke into a smile. His eyes glistened cold and calculating above the grinning mask of his face. Two teenaged girls in front of the car made loud animal noises.

Winding the window down, he shouted, "Get the new one, kids. It's on the Delia label." With a last wave, he settled back in the cushions in the car. He made a sign to the driver and the car pulled away from the curb.

Mystified, Julie turned to a skinny twelve-year-old girl. "And who," Julie asked, "is that?"

The child looked at her incredulously. "You mean to say you don't know?"

Julie admitted ignorance as the girl continued. "Sister, you must be from outer space. That was Mike Hubbard of The Mother Grabbers. Them and The Airplane are the greatest. They turn me on."

Julie gazed at the receding car. So that was one of the Mother Grabbers. Somehow when she had heard their records being played on the local station back home, she had imagined somebody different. She expected some special type of person, whose appearance would match the wisdom and the idealism that she believed was present in the words and music they represented. He did look out of sight and groovy with his hair and clothes and all. But those eyes ... There was no warmth or soul in that calculating scrutiny.

As the crowd dispersed, Julie allowed herself to be carried along with it. Slowly she moved long a couple of blocks. A young man in front of her stopped suddenly, causing her to bump into him.

Julie smiled at him apologetically. "Gee, I'm sorry. But you didn't give any hand signals."

The young man turned. His face looked intellectual with its frame of black beard.

"My fault. I'm always doing it," he grinned at her as he continued. "Met some of my best friends that way. I spent a month with a Japanese girl that ran into me on a parking lot. She was a lousy driver, but a great cook. Rice seems to reduce my sexual drive though. I had to skip."

He took her arm as if he had known her for years d steered her into a coffee shop. "I'm just going in here before the accident," he informed her. "Care to join me?"

Julie tried to relax, fighting back the tension she felt building up inside her. The guy was still talking as they made their way to an empty booth.

She had come to Los Angeles to meet people, yet every time someone spoke to her she dried up. She decided she had better stop acting like a hick. This was Hollywood and if people acted this way, she supposed they knew what they were doing.

An indifferent waitress slopped two glasses of ice water in front of them while handing them a huge printed menu. Julie suddenly realized that she was hungry.

With an assurance that she didn't feel, she looked across at the young man opposite to her.

"Would you think me a pig if I ordered an omelet?" she asked laughing.

He shook his head. "Be my guest. They're probably not up to much. There used to be a marvelous place by the beach in Venice called the Shiftwood. They gave six-egg omelets for sixty cents. I was shooting a film down there and lived on them for a couple of weeks. Want to see my feathers?"

Julie straightened up in her chair and undid the buttons on her jacket. Moving her arms as if unconsciously, she let her see-through blouse come into sight.

"Did you say you were shooting a film down there?" she asked with an intrigued catch in her voice. "Are you in the movie business?"

The guy laughed depreciatingly. "It depends what you call the movies. I'm a student. I'm in Theatre Arts at U.C.L.A. By the way, I'm Allan Adderman. What's your name?"

Julie let her breath out and eased her boobs back to more natural proportions before answering.

"Julie Baldwin," she told him. "I'm, er, on vacation."

Allan nodded approvingly. "Fine, fine," he said. "Maybe I can show you around the zoo. We have some student films coming up soon in Royce Hall. Give me your phone number and we'll make arrangements."

Julie shook her blonde head. "I can't," she told him. "I haven't settled down yet. No home, no phone."

Allan took it in his stride. "It's no hassle," he said. Then taking a pen out of his shirt pocket, he continued. "Here, I'll give you mine. The top one is my pad in Venice. It's a bit cruddy, but it's near the beach and cheap. The other is my parents' number. I go there to eat occasionally. Rice is bad enough, but starving is a bummer."

Julie sat patiently listening to him. Then seizing her chance, she broke in. "But you said you make films. You make money doing that."

Allan looked at her indulgently. "I said I make films. Not I make money. The stuff we do is for credits at school. When I get my master's degree at the end of the quarter, maybe I'll make some money then." His companion was sympathetic. "Well, how do you make money? Someone's got to buy bread and pay for tuition."

Allan glanced around the restaurant furtively before answering. "I know a guy who makes stag films after hours. I help out sometimes." Julie tried to stifle her laughter as she spoke. You mean you screw in front of a camera for money?"

Allan held his hand up to quieten her. "Watch it will you," he cautioned. "You never know who's listening."

He leaned over towards her. "No, I'm not in front of the camera. I'm behind it. I do the photography. The money's good and I'm learning all the time."

"To screw?" Julie cut in.

Allan shook his head impatiently. "No. I don't need any practice in that field. It's the technical know-how that I'm short of. This guy that I'm telling you about, the one from the studio. He's terrific. It intrigues me the way he brings a whole new art form into porno pictures. He's worked with all the topflight names in the straight field. He knows every trick in the book and he's taught me a bell of a lot. He's good fun, too. A great person to be around."

Allan paused as a thought seemed to strike him. "Say, how would you like to meet him?"

He looked at Julie quizzically, his scrutiny starting at the top of her blonde head and lingering for quite a while on her half-revealed tits.

Then with added certainty, he carried on. "He might have something for you."

Julie cut in again. "Yes, and I can imagine what it is, too."

Allan noted her reaction. "Well, you'd have to audition, of course. But apart from that, he's casting for someone to play the part of a twelve-year-old girl who falls in love with a middle-aged man. It's a beautiful story and handled very sympathetically. It beats Candy all to hell. What do you say? Should I phone him?"

Julie fidgeted nervously for a moment. "Well, I er, don't really know," she said hesitantly. "I want to have a look around first before committing myself. I don't know what I want to do yet. What would I have to do in the film anyway? I mean I haven't..."

Allan silenced her with a warning grimace and nodded towards the waitress who was coming towards them with their order.

"Keep it down. Play it cool," he said in a whisper. "They have spies everywhere."

His alarm was contagious. "Who are THEY? "Julie whispered back.

"They," Allan informed her, "are the pigs. The Establishment. They are everywhere, watching, listening. If you are young and look like a swinger, they bust you just on principle. It's worse for students. I could tell you things that would ..."

He broke off abruptly as the waitress reached the table. He greeted her smiling. "Oh, that looks good. You were quick, too."

The waitress shifted her feet tiredly. "Thank you, sir. Will that be all?"

Flattery she could do without. It was the tip she was interested in. This kid looked like a student out with his girlfriend. She knew that if she got a quarter out of them, she'd be lucky.

Flashing a mechanical, practiced smile in their direction, she left them to their own devices.

Allan waited until she was out of earshot before continuing. "Where were we up to? Oh yes," he went on. "You were asking what you would have to do. Well, I only glanced through the script. The shooting script is what I'm interested in. However, as well as I can remember, it's aimed at the nymphophile market."

Catching Julie's look of puzzlement, he elaborated. "That means child lover. It should be quite a large market, too. Did you know that the biggest indictable crime in the U.S. is child molesting. Those figures include incest and other related behavioral patterns, of course."

Julie shook her head in disbelief.

"It's a fact," Allan assured her. "I was researching the subject for this guy at the campus library. I read a lot of stuff for him there. It's quiet there and you can concentrate. Meet a lot of the right kind of people there, too. I was researching a nude Tarzan production for him a couple of months back and met a girl who was doing Central African anthropology as a major. She ended up playing Jane. She made a lot of bread and got laid by dozens of 'natives.' She said it was the most total experience she had ever had. It really turned her Julie nodded her head as she remembered the effect that the two blacks had had upon her as they walked past the doorway she was standing in. Their hot, knowing appraisal had caused the juices to flow in her love pit. The thought of their hard pricks pumping into her while the owners' fertility medallions beat a tattoo on her bare boobs turned her on, too. She knew just how the girl student felt. Dangling dongs and jingling dollars was enough to turn anybody on.

Stimulated, Julie came out of her reverie and questioned Allan further. "Would I get laid, too?" she asked hopefully. "I mean there's a lot of screwing that goes on in those films, isn't there?"

Allan misread the inflection in her voice. Mistaking it for reluctance he said, "No. You'd play the virgin."

His voice" was soft and reassuring. "All you'd have to do is blow the guy, beat his meat and stuff like that. There would be other birds getting laid. But unless they write anything into your part for the backers, you are supposed to be pure and innocent. The theme of the whole production is the idealism and delicacy of young girlhood."

He stopped talking as he caught sight of the plate of food that was lying untouched in front of her.

"Hey, you've not eaten anything. You said you were hungry."

Obediently, Julie picked up a fork and took a corner off the omelet. Raising it to her lips, she found that it wasn't too bad at all. It had begun to settle a little as it cooled, but it was still good. Eagerly, she took another mouthful.

It had been quite a while since she had sat down to a square meal. There had been snacks at Lennie's place, but most of the time she had been munching on choppers. Jism is groovy, but not very nourishing. She must have lost quite a bit of weight since she came to Los Angeles. She took another mouthful of the omelet and motioned to Allan.

"What's that you've got? Apple pie? Better hurry up and eat it before I get finished with this omelet."

Allan nodded absently and picked up a fork. "Sorry, I was thinking. You know," he continued, "it might be an idea for you to get in touch with Ben."

Julie countered him with, "Who's Ben?"

Allan spoke through a mouthful of pie. "The movie guy I was telling you about, of course."

They both ate in silence for a minute. Allan finished his pie and spooned some sugar into his coffee.

"Look, I'm tied up for today anyway. I've got to go to the Pickwick Bookshop to pick up something. We'll split after you've finished. But listen. You've got my numbers, so keep in touch. Even if nothing jells about the film bit, call, me and I'll show you around."

He signaled to the waitress, who came over with the bill. Fishing in his pockets, he brought out a quarter and left it beside his plate.

Julie finished off her coffee and stood up. "Ready when you are," she told him.

Stopping at the cash desk, Allan settled the bill and led Julie out into the sunshine of the Sunset Strip.

Allan looked at her inquisitively. "Where are you heading for then?"

Julie shrugged her shoulders. "Nowhere in particular. I'm just bumming around and looking at things."

Allan pointed down the street. "I'm going this way. Want to walk along?"

Taking her arm, Allan steered her through the crowds, he indicated the places they were passing.

"Over there on the corner is Max Factor's main place. They do a roaring trade here in Hollywood.

Nobody wants to grow old gracefully. They try to stay young hideously instead."

A thrill ran through Julie as she looked at the marble portals. "Think of all the movie stars you'd see going in there," she exclaimed rapturously.

Allan looked at her quizzically. "You don't see them going in. They wear heavy veils until they come out with a fresh paint job."

Julie spoke through her laughter. "You know you're mad, don't you?"

"Genius," Allan assured her solemnly, "is akin to madness."

They walked a few more paces. Allan talked like a tour guide.

"And if you care to look on the left of the bus, you will see that we are now passing the famous Hollywood Wax Museum, internationally famous for its reproductions."

He put his mouth to her ear. "Actually," he whispered, "they make them wear condoms now, so they can't" Julie was puzzled. "Can't what?" she asked.

"Reproduce ... Don't ever ask me to explain my jokes. They're not that funny."

Stopping at the foyer, Julie gazed delightedly at the photographs.

"Oh, Allan," Julie's eyes were shining as she spoke. "I think you're right on. Can we go in and have a look around?"

He shook his head. "I've already told you, I'm tied up for today. I'd love to later. But right now, I've got to go to the Pickwick."

Reluctantly, Julie allowed herself to be led away from the front of the museum and back onto the sidewalk. The sound of music came to her above the roar of the traffic. They moved closer to the little circle of spectators, but she still could not distinguish the music as being Indian. Unable to pass through the crowd, they stopped on the outer edge. An elderly couple in front of her shook their heads at each other and moved away. Julie dragged Allan into the vacant spot.

In front of her was the queerest sight she had ever seen. Squatted in a semi-circle in the gutter were a bunch of half-starved people dressed in loin Cloths and long robes. The girls among them wore saris or shapeless costumes that fell around their ankles in dirty folds. A pretty young girl sat in the middle of them with an Indian stringed instrument in front of her. As she picked out the haunting Eastern melody, the others chanted the words in eye-closed concentration. To one side, an emaciated youth with long hair, beat rhythmically on a deep-toned drum. The weird chanting and the pulsing throb of the drum began to work its way into Julie's mind and she found herself beginning to sway in time to the insistent music.

Allan squeezed her arm. "Steady on," he warned her. "You'll be joining them next."

Julie's face was flushed as she turned to him. "Brother, this is really far out. Who are they? Some new group?"

Allan laughed. "If you mean musical group, the answer's no," he told her. "It's one of the religious sects. There's dozens of them about in the canyons in L.A. I couldn't say exactly who these are, but they all follow a pattern. Usually, they follow some debased Oriental philosophy which is injected into their minds. Some of them have a degree of truth. Others are just an excuse to pander to the sensual element. That's alright if you like orgies and that sort of thing. And," he added smiling, "let's face it, who doesn't?"

Julie surveyed the group in front of her carefully. "Which one is the leader?" she inquired.

Allan nodded his head toward the shop doorway behind them. "The unwashed gentleman over there in the doorway. It's cooler in the shade and easier to split if the pigs start harassing the devotees."

Disbelief showed in Julie's voice. "But why should they want to do that?" she asked.

Allan shrugged his shoulders. "Beats the shit out of me. But that's pig mentality. If they see anybody doing their thing, they club 'em."

Taking her arm again, Allan edged through the crowd. As they waited for the traffic light at a busy little intersection, Allan directed her attention to a flashing sign a few doors up the street on the right hand side.

"There's a place you'd dig ... The Third World. They've got everything there. Love beads, psychedelic lamps, books, even the clap."

Following his pointing finger, Julie spotted the shop. The windows were painted in garish, swirling designs, matching the assortment of people leaving and entering the doors.

She opened her mouth and turned to Allan.

"Oh," he forestalled her question. "I've told you. I have to go to the Pickwick. But as soon as I'm free, we'll get together."

As the traffic light flashed to green, he helped Julie down the curb and they darted to the opposite pavement. On the corner stood a Mexican Cafe with a loudspeaker blaring mariachi music over the door. The next shop seemed to be part of the same firm and was full of Mexican curios.

Julie came to a standstill in front of the window. Her voice was shrill as she exclaimed breathlessly.

"Oh Allen, just look at all this funky stuff. Is it all for real?"

He followed her gaze and shuddered. "It may be a mirage. If we close our eyes, perhaps it will go away."

"No, stupid," Julie said impatiently. "You know what I mean. Is it really Mexican and made there by Indians?" Her curiosity increased.

Allan nodded. "Yes, most of it. The prices are high here of course as they sell to tourists and hicks from Iowa."

He ducked as Julie swung at him with her purse.

"Tell you what," he suggested. "Let's have a run to T.J. someday. The place is out of sight. You can pick up some camp gear if you know where to look. Everybody should go to Tijuana at least once in their lives. It would be fun showing you the place. One of these weekends, alright?"

Julie agreed raptuously. "I'd love to. It sounds great. But how do we get there?" she queried.

"It's no sweat," he reassured her. "We'll go in my car. It's less than two hours to the border. The car should live that long. One of the nice things about a V.W. bug is that when it gets tired, you can always carry it. I don't like leaving it in T.J. though. They cut up the tires for sandals and engage in other quaint native customs. It's rough driving back on the freeway on the rims."

Resisting the impulse to go into the shop and browse around, Julie fell into step with her escort as he continued down Sunset Strip.

A couple of blocks further they reached the entrance to the Pickwick Bookshop.

Allan turned to her. "Well," he asked her, "What'll it be? Do you want to come in and watch me 'liberate' a couple of books, or are you going to carry on with the tour on your own?"

Julie stood indecisively on the pavement. Through the glass windows, she could see the millions of books stacked invitingly down isle after isle. She saw a varied cross-section of human-drifting through the profusion. Students and professors, looking for textbooks, rubbed shoulders with queerly garbed cultists, seeking treatises on religion and demonology. A suburban housewife was buying a cookbook and a hippie girl was scanning through a work on the preparation of love potions. They were, in Julie's eyes, a most interesting and diverse collection of human beings.

Looking up at Allan, she noticed how impatiently he stood beside her. "You carry on," she told him. "You've spent enough time already. I'll have a quick look around and see if there's anything I can't live without. I've got your phone number. I'll call you in a couple of days and see if we can work anything out. I'll look forward to seeing you."

Allan smiled back at her, his brown eyes expressive and warm. "Don't forget now. And it's been nice meeting a girl that hasn't been bent out of shape by the system."

Still smiling, he, turned and disappeared through the door.

Taking her time, Julie walked through the swinging doors and down the isles of books. Gazing at the titles, her mind was far away.

That had been a most refreshing encounter for her. For the first time since she had been here, someone had given her something without asking anything in return. Allen had appeared to be interested in her as a person and not as a sex object. As she had spoken to him, she had felt a warmth of communication between them that was something unusual in her young life. He was obviously clever and functioning at a higher intellectual level than she. And yet he had been interested in what she had to say and did not think any less of her for asking questions. She thought that it would be nice to see more of him after she had settled down. He seemed to represent the sort of thing that she had come to Los Angles to explore.

But what was she going to talk about. She didn't want to appear to be a complete dud. Suddenly, her eye fell upon a book entitled Comparative Religions. That seemed to be a subject that interested him. She remembered the way he was discussing the cults that existed in the area.

Before making any further judgment, Julie picked up the book and checked the price. It was reduced to three dollars. At that price, she decided that she couldn't afford to be without it.

Paying at the desk, she left the shop without catching sight of Allan again. She retraced her steps back along Sunset Boulevard.

The sun was shining brightly on a beautiful, carefree day. Julie thought that there couldn't be a better time to go to see some of the flower people.

If she had a car, she would have run up to Big Sur to see what the scene was out there. She had heard how they lived in communes, with everybody contributing according to their ability. They even referred to themselves as a family. But it probably meant a family with a difference. The incest taboo was unheard of and everybody screwed with everybody as the mood took them. Delight-mi. A meaningful social experiment with unlimited fucking.

As she walked, Julie found herself back on the corner, where the Mexican shop stood.

"What the hell," she muttered. "I'll go and have a look. What did Allan say it was called? Oh yes, The Third World, that was it."

Turning right up the side street a few short steps, she arrived at the entrance.

A solid wall of gut-slamming music hit her as she entered. The smell of incense was overpowering. The place looked like it had been a warehouse of an office complex. Now, the partitions had been removed and the whole place was a huge, noise-filled, pulsating unit. Stalls and booths had been set up that sold everything imaginable. Psychedelic lamps flickered in one booth, while another booth showed eye-hurting displays of fluorescent posters. A cacophony of solid rock music assailed the ears as two bearded youths demonstrated cut priced records on an amplifying system. The next stall offered Indian brass ware and junky jewelry. Julie wandered spellbound through the displays.

The offerings were endless. Pausing at a secondhand bookstall, she glanced through the titles casually. The smell of spices and strange herbs came to her from the next stall. It was hot and the exotically spiced air from the next stall was relaxing and languorous. Glancing around her, Julie scrutinized the dress of the other girls. The majority of customers seemed to have a complete indifference to the charms of their scantily clad bodies.

The girl behind the spice stall was wearing a fringed leather jacket that gaped open and displayed her firm young breasts as she bent across the counter. The ripple and sway of the girls' un-confined bodies showed that even those wearing ankle-length Mother Hubbard dresses, were naked underneath.

Brushing a sweat-damp strand of hair from her face, Julie straightened up and removed her jacket. In her expensive micro-mini and well-tailored see-through blouse, her clean blonde beauty stood out among the off-beat hippie girls around her.

What made them outstanding was the casual display of their bodies. Julie knew that she could beat them at the game. There wasn't a pair of knockers to match hers in the entire place. And the ultra-short skirt she was wearing only accentuated the desirability of her long-legged body.

With an affectation of aloof superiority, she engrossed herself in the study of the books around her. She felt little surprise, however, when she became aware of a pair of piercing eyes, studying her from above a pile of books a few feet away. As if unaware, she brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulders. Falling as it did, down the front of her, it concealed the thrust of her boobs against the transparent covering of her blouse.

She felt the hot glance running over her body, like exploring fingers. Putting the book she was studying down on the counter, she bent over to read it closer. The see-through blouse obeyed the laws of gravity and the patch pockets relinquished her pink-tipped tits, leaving them obvious through the material.

Seemingly engrossed in her book, she heard the soft pad of sandaled feet approaching.

A voice overtoned with Indian temples and mystery, spoke behind her.

"Teek hi, Mem. I see that you are interested in our ancient beliefs."

A thin brown hand came from behind her and touched the book on the counter before her. The smell of curry and spices assailed her as the voice spoke again.

"Oh, yes. The writing of the great swami Lal-Kaka. We studied together in Bombay."

Julie turned to meet the owner of the voice. All the mysteries of the East seemed to be embodied in the saffron-robed man who stood before her.

Aged about forty, his thin, esthetic face appeared to know of the depths of human frailties, but the understanding in his moist brown eyes spoke of his compassion for the millions, who unlike himself, were unable to surmount them.

Rising to the challenge of his personality, Julie answered with assurance. "Yes, I am rather. My friend and I were discussing comparative religions only this morning."

Two brown hands emerged from the folds of his robe, making a little arched temple of prayer against his chest.

"Salam a myhika," he breathed gently. The fumes of his curry-laden breath filtered through his pressed fingers.

"God be upon you. I am the swami Guram Zubri. A great purpose has led you to this place today. Let us talk, you and I."

Leaving her book still open on the counter, Julie followed the swami to a corner of the bazaar. A draped silken shawl covered a doorway. Holding it to one side, he beckoned Julie to enter. "Come," he told her, bowing slightly. "This is where the people of this place eat. They know me here."

The silken shawl rustled as Julie entered. A few tables and chairs were jammed into a small, dimly lit room. A faint red light glowed from a central wrought iron hanging lamp. A teakwood Buddha sat obesely in a little shrine. Incense burned before the statue in a shining brass bowl.

The swami held a chair back for Julie at the nearest table. Seating himself opposite to her, he picked up a small brass bell from the center of the table and sent its shrill demand ringing through the scented room.

Before the sound had died away, the curtains parted once more and a young girl entered. Standing before the swami, she bowed her head in greeting over her folded hands.

"What can I do for you?" she said.

The swami inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Peace be upon you, my child."

Indicating the seated Julie with his hand, he continued. "Ghurem cha, jildi. We will take tea, my friend and I."

The girl left and returned almost immediately with two bowls of scented green tea.

Turning to Julie, she asked. "Would you like halvah?"

Not wishing to display her ignorance, Julie nodded her head.

He beamed upon her. "I am most pleased that your knowledge of our country is not confined to things spiritual. Halvah is one of the delights of the senses. Without the senses, it would be impossible for man to reach the sublimity of true understanding. But why should I relate these things to one whose dress alone indicates understanding of the mysteries."

As he spoke, his eyes flickered toward her half-revealed breasts. The eyelids seemed to hood over, snakelike. The darker brown of the folded skin under his brows seemed to accentuate the gleam of his deep set eyes.

Julie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She felt it difficult to reconcile religion and mysticism with the exhibition of her thrusting tits.

The curtain parted again and the girl returned with a plate heaped high with a pyramid of white confection.

Reaching for one of the succulent wedges, Julie sank her teeth into it experimentally. The smooth mixture of sesame seed, sugar and ground nuts melted in the warmth of her mouth like a snow-hall in the heat of the sun. A cloying sweetness permeated her whole being.

The swami watched her reaction with interest, re they to your satisfaction, mem?" he asked her solicitously.

"Oh, they are wonderful," Julie breathed. If the revelations of Eastern mysticism could be related to the taste of halva, Julie felt that she was going to enjoy this experience.

He continued his appraisal of her over the rim of his tea bowl.

"Now tell me," he commanded. "What is it that causes the lines of self-doubt around your pretty blue eyes?"

He reached across the table and ran his fingers over Julie's soft face.

"The eyes mirror the soul and I see that your soul is unhappy."

A penetrating wave of power seemed to emanate from his stroking fingers. Peace and a feeling of being touched by healing forces oozed through the girl as the soft brown fingers found their way to her temple. The swami's voice droned on as he stroked her brow.

"There is peace and forgiveness in God. One must expose all before him. I am his appointed servant. Cleanse yourself of all temporal troubles by revealing your inner being to me."

As if hypnotized, Julie heard herself telling him of all that had happened since she had arrived in Los Angeles. How she had longed for a deep cultural/religious/emotional experience and ended up sucking cocks. Her eyes flickered shut as she related how she felt about getting laid, and thus becoming an emotionally capable woman. She told him how she had caressed cocks, breathing on them to make them spring to life, and how all the owners had ever wanted was to ram them down her protesting throat.

"I've tried," she told him with a sob in her voice. "I've tried every way I know how. It's beautiful to feel the surge of life containing sperms surging through your mouth." Her voice broke as she felt the sympathy of the man before her. "But how can I become an emotionally stable woman until I've been laid. I'm seventeen and I'm still a virgin."

His reaction to this was electric.

"My dear child," he questioned her sharply, "did you say that you had sucked the male member and yet had never taken it within your yoni? That you are still a virgin?"

Julie nodded her head shamefacedly.

"Yes, swami," she whispered crestfallen. "I am beginning to think that I am not good enough to screw in men's eyes."

He stood up and walked around the table. Taking her shoulders in both hands, he let his eyes bore into hers.

"Providence has indeed guided your footsteps here today. It is written that only in the unknowing, can absolute truth be found. Do you have any family or are you alone in this place?"

Julie looked up at him through the tears in her eyes. "I am quite alone," she admitted. "I only came here a couple of days ago."

Swami Guram Zubri relaxed and nodded his head contentedly. "So be it. You must join my little group immediately."

"But my clothes, and my friend Lennie that I told you about."

"These are worldly considerations," he told her. "We will arrange for your admission to the Zen Veda Society immediately. I will see that a car is procured for our conveyance there."

Turning to the table, he rang the bell again. The girl responded almost immediately and stood waiting for the swami to speak.

"Ask brother Lar Meer to attend me, child." The girl obeyed the command and left the room. The silken drapes fell into place behind her as if marking the closing of an important passage in Julie's life.

She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the feeling of inevitability that swept over her. There was such a commanding certainty that seemed to flow from the presence of swami Guram Zubri that even if she had wanted to, Julie felt powerless to influence the forces of destiny that had overtaken her.

He sat opposite her, eating halvah and surveying her through his snake-lidded eyes.

The drapes rustled again and Julie looked up see a young man standing beside them. He folded his hands and greeted them.

"Peace be upon you, swami."

As Julie looked at him, she was reminded of a clean-cut surfer. Tight jeans stretched across his athletic, muscular legs.

"You sent for me?" the young man added.

"I did." The guru's glance fell upon the young man's jeans and open-necked shirt.

"But why are you wearing this occidental clothing?" he asked curtly. "You are entitled to the purple robe and should wear it with dignity."

The young man's voice was assured as he answered. "I am living in the world outside the temple, swami Zubri," he told him. "When I mix with others and do my missionary work, I try to show them that it is possible for ordinary people to attain a state of grace and nirvana. If I dress like them, they feel that I am like them."

The guru held up his hand for silence. "Enough, enough, you are a faithful devotee and reason well. Now you must drive this young lady and I to Cocunga Canyon. She will be inducted into the society tonight."

Brother Lai Meer looked at Julie with interest. Despite the Indian-sounding name, he was obviously an all-American boy. Julie judged him to be around a hundred and ninety pounds of firm muscular flesh. Though he wore his curly blond hair in a flowing mane over his shoulders, he had the well-scrubbed look of an ex-football player. Julie thought that if the religion attracted many like him, it must have something to commend it.

A slow smile broke over his face as he sensed Julie's scrutiny.

His voice was cultivated and even as he addressed her.

"Hi there. Let me introduce myself."

He held a large hand out for Julie to shake. Swami Zubri has already told you my name bin the society. Before I became enlightened I was called Roddy MacGowan. I am one of the priests and I do work among the kids here."

He swept his hand behind him towards the sound of the rock music that penetrated the silk-screened door.

Many of them are approaching a state of understanding and are nearly ready for admission. By leeway, what's your name?"

Julie told him. Her eyes took in the assured masculinity of his stance.

That's nice," he acknowledged. "Though we'll have to find a new one for you after the ceremony."

He turned to the guru, who sat watching them both motionlessly.

"But, swami," he said, "This is certainly a wild-looking chick. How do you know that she's suited to the understanding of our beliefs without a period of instruction and discipline?"

The swami looked at him indulgently. The hooded eyelids seemed to slip back and reveal an almost carnal anticipation in the depths of his unfathomable brown eyes.

"You doubt my wisdom, my son." His voice was butter soft as he spoke. "However, I shall excuse your presumption and let you rejoice in my discovery." He turned theatrically towards Julie as he announced, "This vessel has not been sullied by the prodding lusts of man. She is a virgin and will be ordained as the high priestess of our cult tonight. Into her pure white body, we shall pour the very essence of our searching souls."

Roddy's voice was far from humble as he replied, "Woweeeee, she can have a gut full of my essence right here now. This is one vessel that I'm going to enjoy filling."

He wrenched his eyes away from Julie's half-exposed tits and tried to stifle the excitement in his voice.

"Excuse my excitement, Julie," he continued in a more even tone. "But a situation like this is enough to make even a saint lose his cool. You are a very lucky chick, believe me, being accepted by the swami Zubri. He will cultivate your mind and discipline your body until you are worthy of a place within the enlightened circle of our society. I'll lay on some wheels and whisk you up to the retreat before he changes his mind."

Bowing again to the guru, he turned on his heel and left the room. The guru offered the last half-wedge of halvah to Julie. He studied her moving red lips as she sucked on the succulent morsel.

His voice was hardly audible over the moist sucking sounds of Julie's mastication. "You must make allowance for my young friend. At his age, it is difficult to separate the carnal from the spiritual. There is such a fine line of division that it takes much discipline to walk the tightrope of the senses. I will give you exercises in disassociation very soon."

His voice droned on, filling the scented room with its phrases. Julie abandoned herself to the comforting sound of his voice, aware more of the assured tone of his voice than of the wisdom of his words. Time lost its meaning as she closed her eyes and relaxed under the verbal massage of her impressionable mind. The flow of the swami's words stopped, and Julie opened her eyes to find Roddy standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me, swami," he interrupted. "I am parked at a red curb. The pigs have such a temporal attitude towards those things. Let's go, should we?"

The swami stood up and gathered his robes around him. The trio swept through the draped curtain and out into the noisy throng of the bazaar.

Julie and Rod followed in his wake as the hippie crowd parted to allow him through. His right hand was raised in blessing, as his tight esthetic lips murmured a benediction.

"Peace upon you, my children. Peace upon you."

Julie blinked as they emerged into the bright sunlight. Drawn up at the red curb, a black Cadillac shimmered in the heat of the California sun. Roddy darted forward and held the door open for Zubri to enter. The brown, alien flesh of his legs snowed for a moment as he bent forward to insinuate himself into the luxury of the car. Seating himself in the expensive-smelling upholstery of the back seat, he beckoned Julie to sit beside him.

Julie felt the cold snake-like intensity of his eyes as they riveted on the soft firmness of her hash tits. Her blouse fell open as she stooped into she confines of the Cadillac. Self-consciously, she seated herself at the opposite end of the seat away from him. His plump, oily hand insinuated itself along the length of the cushions until it rested on her thigh.

"There, my dear, you are still a prisoner of your bodily awareness. You have a long .path to follow." He spoke persuasively as he gently patted the yielding flesh of her thigh. "But, I, Zubri, shall be personally responsible for your passage aver the razor's edge of understanding."

Roddy slammed the driving door shut and settled behind the wheel. He spoke over his shoulder as he turned the ignition key on.

"Let's leave the instructions until we're out at the canyon, revered one. You know that they are out to bust us. If they found you giving instructions to a young broad in the middle of the street in bright daylight, they wouldn't let the opportunity pass. The police mind works on a much lower level than yours does and they'd swear that you were having an orgy on the back seat."

The swami nodded and withdrew his hand from the moist crotch of Julie's panties.

"You are right, as so often happens in things temporal. I am afraid that my holy mind is incapable of functioning along the gutter level of common mentality. Drive on, Roddy, my wise disciple. Drive on to the Retreat and an aura of sanctity and enlightenment."

For a moment, Julie thought that she detected a sensuality in the implacability of the swami's fleshy Hindu face. Dismissing the thought as unworthy, she turned toward him.

"What will happen when we get to the Retreat, swami?" she asked trusting and childlike. "Will there be a long period of instruction before I am allowed to enter into understanding?"

The swami turned to her. His eyes seemed to make a veil, hiding his thoughts from her with Eastern inscrutability.

"No, Julie," he reassured her. "In your particular case,I believe that the period of instruction can be kept to a minimum. The mechanics of devotion you are already conversant with. A little instruction in the doctrine of surrender of self to the universal love will be needed. But your mind seems to match the pliability of your young and pliant body. I see no great difficulty ahead of us."

He raised his voice to include Roddy in the conversation. "I assume that the firm rod of truth can be applied to the orifice of this child's understanding before the sun brightens the rim of another day."

Roddy diverted his attention from the road ahead for a moment and turned to look at the swami.

"If you mean that she gets it before the night's out," he answered enthusiastically, "I'll go along with that one-hundred percent."

The swami shuddered delicately. "This is a spiritual matter of great beauty and delicacy." His eyes were reproachful as he looked at Roddy. "If you insist on being so carnal before the light of this child's understanding is lit, I'm afraid that you are unworthy of tutoring her and the whole responsibility shall fall upon my shoulders."

Roddy controlled himself with a visible effort. "Don't be like that, swami. You know that I quenched the flame of earthly passion on entering thee holy order. Any screwing I do now is purely to release the flood of temporal energies towards a higher enlightenment."

He concentrated morosely on the traffic for a block or so before continuing.

"It's just that you seem to get to release all the young worthwhile chicks from their carnal tensions while all I ever get is the old broads, like Mrs. Ogglethorpe, with their lifetime subscriptions. I know that their needs are as great, if not greater than the young, good-looking devotees. I can't help looking forward to sowing the seed of universal love in less plowed ground than Elsie Ogglethorpe, can I? I mean, you know what I mean, don't you?" He looked hopefully at his spiritual leader.

The swami nodded sagely. "Yes, I do indeed know what you mean. When I first came over here with nothing but a dream and a bottle of the sacred Ganges water to start my mission among the spiritual deserts of California, I too, had much hard work to do among the unenlightened. Money was needed for the holy work. The devotees that could afford to. pay for individual tuition were usually old and ugly. When next you look upon the splendor of our temple, think how it was raised, stone upon stone, by the sweat of my brow. It was a lesson in iron discipline that you could profit by. However, you have served both the cause and the elderly ladies of our circle. You have served them well. I will share the instruction of our new high priestess as a reward for your devotion."

Roddy's reply seemed out of place among the aura of sanctity that permeated the interior of the car.

"Atta-boy, swami. I knew that you would come through with some young cunt if I just kept humping."

Julie's attention was diverted from the conversation by a change in the rhythm of the car's progress.

As they had been talking, the car had left Hollywood and sped along the Hollywood Freeway. Filtering left, they had emerged onto the Ventura Freeway. Passing Sepulveda and on through the San Fernando Valley, they left the Santa Monica Mountains far behind. Effortlessly, the Cadillac gathered speed as they breasted the slight rise at Calabasas and dropped down into the gentle rolling hills beyond. They were now some thirty miles out of the density of Los Angeles and the only homes visible were expensive ranches with graceful trees dotted about their park-like grounds.

Occasionally, a distant horse and rider could be seen against the green backdrop of hills, reminding Julie of the history of the area and how the proud Spanish settlers had once ridden about the rancheros that now lay forgotten among the bustle of American life. The very names on the freeway signs seemed to speak of the old Spanish influence.

The foreign-sounding place names stuck to her tongue like glue. A big, green freeway sign, with Tujunga Canyon emblazoned across it in huge white letters flashed by them.

Tapping Roddy on the shoulder, Julie asked him, "How do you pronounce that one, Roddy?" He peered into the rearview mirror and eased the car across the highway and into the slow lane before answering.

"The 'J' becomes 'H' in Spanish. 'TuImnga' would be understandable." Another sign came into sight bearing the legend "Malibu Canyon." Roddy slowed the car to fifty before he spoke again.

"You'd better get used to the sound of it. The Retreat lies between Tujunga and Malibu canyons. The approach road, which is called Concunga Canyon runs off Malibu. It's very isolated and you'll be able to disassociate yourself from all worldly corruption and feel the peace of perfect understanding enter into you. Along with one or two other things," he added softly as he swung the car into the off ramp. Within minutes, they had left the disturbing influence of civilization far behind them, and Julie surrendered herself to the healing balm of the surrounding countryside. Gentle rolling meadows and softly undulating hills alternated with towering rocky crags, windswept and untamed, tumbling and broken, slashing the horizon of the blue California sky. Here and there, a dusty unpaved road ran from the highway and disappeared into the folds of the brown mountains. Roddy drove for another ten minutes along the curved main road. Then he slowed and made an abrupt right turn before stopping at a locked gate.

A curved stone arch soared above it bearing a gold-lettered sign.

Meditative Center of the Church of Universal Love Principal-The Most Holy Swami Guram Zubri Trespassers Beware. Patrolled by Guard Dogs Roddy selected a key from his ring, unlocked the gate and drove the car through. He locked up carefully behind him.

Julie felt the swami's oily hand running along her leg again.

"This is a great privilege for you, my dear. I hope that you are going to enter into the spirit of our little community and give yourself fully."

Julie nodded her head and smiled up at him trustingly. "As soon as I understand what they are, I will."

The holy man beside her smiled. "Not what they are. Just remember who they are and you will not go unnoticed. If you care to study the sign above the gateway, you will see that I am mentioned."

Julie smiled obediently, without trying to follow the torturous workings of his Asian mind. Her interest lay in the countryside that unfolded itself beyond the car window.

They had turned into a spur of broken mountain side that hid the main road from view. It was as if they had been transported across thousands of miles to an entirely different continent. All the motion pictures that Julie had ever seen about India seemed to be coming to life in front of her.

Barefooted people of all ages seemed to be converging out of the hills onto the dusty road, where they were driving. Some were dressed in plain white robes that streamed loosely behind them as they walked. Others, usually of a more serious mien, wore robes of different hues. Purple, red and yellow garments winked like exotic butterflies among the knots of white.

All the mystery and glamor of the East seemed to be captured and offered to Julie's eager gaze. Julie watched as a sari-clad woman was jostled aside by a humpbacked Brahma cow. Its dhotti-clad herdsman goaded it off the dusty road as his eager eyes penetrated the gauze of the woman's dress.

As the car drew close to them, the people paused and turned, seemingly hypnotically aware swami, so close to them. A low murmur, like the sound of a breaking wave, ran along them as they knelt in the dust of the road. "Swami... Swami Most Holy Zubri." The faces pressed up close to the window of the crawling Despite their sunburn, their features were obviously Caucasian beneath the tan and grime. Hands reached out in supplication towards the proud Indian figure, leaning back among the cushions of the Cadillac. "Holy One. Give to us from the wealth of your understanding." A mask of benign enlightenment seemed to slip into place over the guru's face as he raised his hands in blessing. He wound the window down and leaned out as he spoke. "Peace upon you, my faithful people, There will be a reward for your labors in the fields of truth shortly."

He gestured towards Julie as he continued. "I bring into the temple, the priestess of whom I have spoken. The pure, untouched vessel, therein we can sow the seed of eternal brotherhood. Behold her before you."

His hand was tight upon her arm, as Julie felt herself being forced to the car window. The white purity of her blonde beauty shone like a light among the dusty crowd in front of her.

A rapturous murmur broke from the crowd as if it had one throat. "When ... when, oh Holy One?"

Julie felt the intensity of their fervor engulfing her, as if some strong wind had passed over her body, stripping her and leaving her naked to the many-eyed searching of the crowd.

Instinctively she raised her hands, cupping them around her boobs. Her breasts thrust forward, taut against the transparency of her blouse.

Angrily, the swami reached around her and seized her hands in a grip of iron. His voice flowed, ice cold with fury from between his compressed lips.

"How dare you," he spat at her. "How dare you disappoint my people."

Reaching around her, he took one lapel of her blouse in each of his hands. His mouth pressed close to her ear.

"Now you will display yourself to them fully."

The flimsy material of her blouse parted beneath the pull of the swami's hands, and a dull roar of approval came from the gaping crowd.

Julie's firm, pink-tipped knockers, free and un-confined, seemed to thrust their way at the open mouths that screamed hysterically at the sight of her soft, young flesh.

The guru reached around her, so that the texture ' of his cotton robe registered on her bare back as he opened the car.

"Out of the car," he ordered through a swirling haze of embarrassment.

Unable to resist the command in his voice, Julie found herself standing on the dusty road as the holy man left the car and joined her.

The hot California sun beat upon her naked tits. The heat seemed to set her on fire. It sunk below the white surface of her flesh, burning out her inhibitions and reluctance.

Compliantly, she turned to face her mentor, half expecting his next command.

"Now, my little shy fawn," he whispered softly, "Remove the rest of your clothing. There is no immodesty in revelation. You shall walk, clothed in beauty alone, into your new life."

Dutifully, as if in a dream, Julie found herself reaching around to unzip the tight miniskirt.

The crowd had fallen silent and the slight rustle of the skirt, sliding over her hips, sounded like it had come from a world totally removed from all she had ever felt before. Seeking some point of reference, she tried to think of one known thing that would establish the world that she knew. She felt the world of reality was rapidly slipping away from her like sand through her fingers. Turning away from the eager circle of strangers who surrounded her, she sought out the friendly face of Roddy MacGowan. Roddy sat grinning in the front seat of the Cadillac. His blue eyes leered at her from under his shock of blond hair. His face was lit by a momentary smile before his eyes slid down her body, fondling her tits like fingers. Down over the swelling roundness of her stomach, his eyes fastened like in twin leeches on the plump Vee of her crotch. As if in telepathic communication with Zubri, Julie heard him speak again.

"And now if you will be so kind, the pantyhose.

Take them off." There was a certainty underlying the softness of his voice.

Julie inserted her fingers under the elastic waist of the tightly clinging panties and rolled them down until they hung in tight folds on her succulent, plump thighs. Standing on one foot, she reached over to ease her foot out of its nylon mesh. The enticing rotundity of her ass gleamed whitely in the revealing brightness of the sunlight. The twin cones of her tits swung gently as she shrugged out of her last flimsy covering.

Straightening up, she turned to face the crowd around her. Like an actress performing a well-rehearsed part, she felt a flow of familiarity surge through her, stifling all embarrassment of her nudity. It was as if she truly believed herself to be the pure, sacred vessel that had come into these people's lives as the focal point of all their dreams and aspirations. Raising her hands above her head, she pirouetted slowly in front of them so that not a single detail of her naked body was hidden from their eager, searching eyes.

Soft hissing came from the watchers as they slowly let their pent-up breath escape from their constricted throats. One by one, the multitude dropped to their knees in the dust of the road. With their eyes riveted on her, each individual reacted in his own different way. Some knelt with uncovered heads, a low moan of ecstasy and anticipation bubbling out from between their slack working lips. Others broke into a babble of conflicting prayers, wrenching their eyes away from Julie's beauty to the swami, who stood behind her.

"Thank you. Thank you, Blessed One, for hearing our needs and bringing the truth of this child's body before us."

The swami held his hand up in benediction.

"Did I not promise you?" he questioned them benignly. "Did I not affirm that if you gave all of your worldly possessions and left the filth of commerce behind you, that one day you would see true beauty. You have obeyed me and now the truth of unutterable divinity is yours to share. Leave one and another, obey your guru and the gates of paradise shall be opened unto you." Julie looked at the faces as they merged into one crowded entity. With an effort of will, she was able to see individuals out of the crowd. Separating them into sharp, isolated focus, each face resembled the person whose emotions showed so plainly in front of her. Here was a young girl, who stood by her thinness and a tall aloofness from the details of life. A flower child, progressed beyond the hippie stage, seeking a purpose in the mysticism of Eastern religion.

Near to her, the sharp features of an ascetic young man of twenty-five years or so, came to Julie's sight, as he devoured the perfection of her breasts with devout eyes. He appeared to have discovered the blinding flash of truth in mathematic equations through the soft angles of Julie's firm An elderly woman reached out to touch her. Her face was inscrutable as she whispered, "She is indeed perfect, I must explore the body further until I reach the mystery of her mind." An old man, whose straggling beard heightened the goat-like appearance of his face, fondled his limp penis as he riveted his eyes on Julie's round ass. A thin dribble of spit ran from the corner of his mouth. "If I can commune with her just once," the old man said earnestly, "I shall pass on with a full reward."

Guram Zubri raised his hand for silence. "You seen the promise of your priestess. The hand of eternity has formed her perfection. She must not be sullied by earthly things outside the temple. No part of her precious purity must be soiled. Therefore, lay your devoted bodies upon the contamination earth and let her approach the temple on an insulating carpet of your yielding forms. Down. Down I say and let her walk upon you, to her destiny."

Jostling each other in the intensity of their obedience, the faithful ones flung themselves down in a long line, which stretched the distance of the road.

Taking Julie's hand, the swami helped Julie mount the living carpet of bodies and led her solemnly forward towards the shapes of buildings, which were shimmering through the heat at the far end of the road.

Holding Guram Zubri's hand, Julie wobbled her way forward. Her feet sunk into the soft pliancy of bodies as she walked. After she strode over the forms, they would rise and run eagerly to await their turn again at the end of the living welcoming carpet.

Carefully, Julie avoided treading on any upturned faces.

"Do not be afraid of hurting them, my child," Zubri said. "Pain purifies. Those who lay on their stomachs with their faces hidden, feel that they are not yet worthy of you. Ignore them. They are merely aids to your progress. The others, who stare up at you as you pass over them, need to pay for the temerity. Press heavily with your feet as you pass over them. Make them pay for their needs and they will be all the more grateful."

Listening to the guru's advice, Julie ignored the bodies beneath her and kept her eyes fastened on the complex of buildings that were coming into view as the road turned to the protective spur of the hills. A low groan of pain broke from lips of an elderly man as Julie's heel ground into his groin. His balls seemed to squelch juicily under her instep. The swami nodded his approval. "Take your time with him." His eyes gleamed maliciously as he spoke. "See how he stares at your maidenhood as your legs open above him. He needs to pay for the privilege. Put one foot before the other, and miss not an inch of him as you go."

As Julie stepped on the man's bulging gut, she felt like she was walking on uncooked sausage as it squelched loosely under her feet. Thankfully, Julie stepped onto his flaccid chest. It was little better. The fatty tissue of his almost feminine breasts slipped under the pressure of her feet. The firm footing of his rib cage rippled like the corrugations on a wave-washed beach.

The red slit of Julie's twat minced daintily above his staring face as her foot came down heavily upon it. His eyes pierced upwards, unblinking and unflickering, until his view was blocked by the undulating roundness of her ass as she passed beyond him and onto the next prostrate body. Rising as soon as he could see no more, he rubbed the sweat of sexual excitement out of his eyes and dashed to the head of the line for more.

Julie progressed further and further along the line with the help of the swami's steadying hand, Some bore her pressure stoically. Others groaned in ecstasy or pain. But all awaited her coming with delight. Some, in an excess of religious fervor or sexual torment, reached out to pull her down upon them, ready to spear her passing body on their stiff erections that seemed to sprout like weeds from the supine mounds of flesh. The swami was delighted with the reactions. He forced her to pay particular attention to the more demanding devotees.

"Walk firmly upon them," he crowed. "Make them pay. Let them earn the privilege of viewing your beauty."

As if in a dream, Julie again felt the living flesh beneath her as she walked.

The car suddenly started up in the distance behind her, and she heard Roddy calling the swami.

"Do you want me to drive the Cadillac over them, too, or is that carrying it a bit too far?"

There was anger in the swami's voice as he answered. "Do not scoff, my son. This is an occasion of deep significance for my people."

Swami Guram Zubri seemed to choose to ignore Roddie's muttered reply. "It would have an even deeper significance for Julie if she slipped and sat on one of those hard dongs she's striding over." Roddy pointed to a long-haired young man wearing a red robe. His huge, hard rod seemed to force the material upwards like a circus tent.

"Look at that bastard there. He's built like a bull. She's ruined if she falls on that guy's prick," Roddy warned.

The swami followed Roddy's pointed hand and rubbed his hands appreciatively.

"The novice monk is indeed blessed with a massive yang. The swami Krishna teaches us that life is centered in the penis. That is a very holy young man. I shall elevate him to monk, third class, and let him attend to the instructions of some of our more carnally inclined sisters."

As if tossing Roddy a bone, he continued. "It would also free you from some of your more burdensome duties with the elderly devotees. You can then assist me with the initiation of our new priestess."

Roddy slammed the car door shut and ran up the path to take Julie's other hand.

"Here, let me help," Roddy offered. "I don't want any accidents before the ceremony." Roddy smiled reassuringly at Julie. "We must keep you pure in body as well as in mind. The swami will explain surrender to you while I look after the mechanics."

The swami's unfathomable brown eyes flickered across Julie's bouncing tits and came to rest on Roddy's face.

"Be not presumptuous, my young friend. First, I must impregnate her with the seed of all embracing understanding. Her first holy communion will be experienced when the bursting sperms of my sacred yang pour down her yielding throat. Only when my essence had entered into her living body will she be in a state of grace and beyond corruption by sexual experience. Only then will you be allowed to commune with this angel of purity. Do not attempt to alter that which is written in our society's creed. In other words ..."

As they argued across her naked body, the procession had come to the end of the path and into a courtyard. Julie's first impression of the Indian influence when the car first stopped among the strangely garbed disciples of this faith, now seemed nothing compared to the feeling she now had on gazing at the sight before her.

All traces of contemporary American life had been left far behind in this setting of coolly slashing fountains, strutting peacocks and deeply shaded Oriental arched courts.

At the head of a huge plaza, a mosque-like temple stood stark and white in the sunlight. A golden cupola gleamed over the building. Heavy iron grills at the slitted windows gave it an air of impenetrable sanctity. At right angles, and forming two sides to the courtyard, ran long rows of buildings. They were obviously dormitories for the sect members.

Closing off the square was a huddle of palm-thatched native stalls, where the clamor of many voices indicated the sharp bargaining over the exotic goods on display. Stalls piled high with handmade brass ware stood next to others. A small, naked girl shyly offered bunches of flowers.

Noticing Julie's astonishment, Zubri explained to her. "I attempt to create the Eastern attitudes here. It is important that the body should live in an Indian atmosphere for the mind to understand the principles of Hindu philosophy."

He waved his hand around the market place. "If the body knows of hunger and the harshness of life, it helps the mind to take wings and soar towards the principles of Nirvana and a reward in the after life that is rarely found in the present one." He smiled depreciatingly. "There are of course exceptions. Some of us have sharpened our understanding through study and application and are able to delight out senses in our present."

He halted Julie as she was about to step off the last of her living carpet and go into the dust of the courtyard.

"Stop. Your feet will not be profaned by the dust of this place."

He clapped his hands. "Gharri wallahs. A conveyance for the priestess."

In answer to his summons, two muscular young men ran down the short flight of steps that led to the main door of the temple. Disappearing for a moment into the concealment of an archway at the foot of the stairs, they emerged with a heavily-carved wooden sedan chair.

The carvings represented coital positions.

Roddy steadied Julie as she mounted her throne of blatant sexuality from which she would reign.

"Here in the States, we call it plain fucking. But the Indians have got it down to a fine art. Look at what this pair are doing. With a chick's legs in that position, up is the only way to go."

His pointing finger indicated one of the sets of figures detailed on the chair's carvings. The man was naked,, with the girl's feet entwined around his neck. Her body was bent upwards, forming a tight U. Her hands grasped behind his head while she sat upon his hands, which were cupped in front of him. Spreading the cheeks of her ass apart, he had worked his massive tool deep into her contorted cunt. Her mouth was open in a shuddering cry that seemed to echo out of the static wood of the carving. A grin of utter satisfaction spread across the carved face of the man that grasped her to him.

"Oh, my God," breathed Julie. "Can you really do it that way?"

"It takes practice," Roddy admitted. "But it can be done. It's called the second flower basket position. It took me three weeks of training, but I managed it once. I didn't realize that I'd slipped a disc until after I came four times. Fantastic!"

Trembling with suppressed excitement, Julie lowered herself onto the red silken upholstery of the golden chair. The juices from her twitching pussy left a dark, mouth-like stain upon the fabric of the cushion.

The swami clapped his hands again and the muscular backs of the bearers rippled as they lifted the sedan onto their shoulders.

"Act the part," Roddy whispered to her as she swayed to the motion of the moving chair. "Remember that you are a priestess and the chosen of the swami."

Julie smiled down at him as she straightened her back, forcing her breast muscles to tighten and thrust the perfect sharpness of her bouncing boobs forward until they seemed to live a life of their own, completely detached from the support of her shapely body.

"The legs," Roddy advised her. "Don't cross them. Keep them open and apart. There must be no concealment. That is only for the uninitiated whose minds dwell upon the flesh. You must think of spiritual matters and not worry whether your pussy is showing. Let it all hang out but look unconcerned."

Obediently, Julie spread her legs apart, allowing the ripe pinkness of her untouched pussy meat to gleam moistly through the sparse covering of her golden fringe of pubic hair.

A dull rumbling roar arose from the watching crowd. "Welcome, golden goddess. See how her holy mind rises above the things of the flesh. She is indeed pure and unknowing."

On the fringe of the crowd, his back pressed against a stall displaying Indian brass ware, a bearded man beat his meat. The stall swayed and pulsated in time to his frantically working hand. The little brass bells, strung around the stall, tinkled. The sound carried sweetly above the roar of the crowd.

Julie smiled down at Roddy. "It all sounds so Oriental, doesn't it?" she asked. "Can you hear how they are ringing little prayer bells to welcome me?"

Roddy squinted up at her quizzically. "Yes, something like that."

Julie thrust her tits out still further. "No, don't spoil it. I really mean it. I feel as if I belong here. As if it were ordained or something. It's like- coming home."

As he walked at the head of the procession, the swami's sharp ears heard and a smile played about his equinine features as he mounted the steps towards the dark secrecy of the shadowy temple doorway.

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