Date: Sun, 17 Aug 2003 12:49:15 -0600 From: Tom Emerson Subject: HOLLYWOOD GRAFFITI - FILE II "I'm glad this isn't pure science," Electra said, "I'd have to go all bossy and disqualify both of you as not coming neutral within the scope of the investigation." Juan Tyne sympathized and petted the girl, who was still as avidly molesting his sister as she had been for the last hour or more, on her pretty head. Thinking for a moment, he spoke.. "I guess we would be a source of deviant data," he affirmed. "It's okay," the girl smiled, "just as long as we know. It's only half science, anyway. There's a camp in both the clerical and clinical sponsors that feels what happens at Hermanos Felize is spiritual, and not only spiritual, but artistic. That real human values are to be found in what happens between the young girls and their big brothers in the stable" "Then why don't they say so?" Carol asked, her fingers on the fingers gently toying with her three-inch breasts. "It's a legacy issue as well as a matter of scale," the advanced child explained. "The church has invested heavily in contemporary morals and folkways; in delineating the devil, well, this is probably a little crude and oversimplified, but picturing old Beelzebub in a way that scares the coin from the pocket to the plate, makes it practically jump from the purse of its own accord, in the name of salvation. This is a status quo that pours endless riches and property into Rome and one tampers with it at their peril. Correspondingly, since the truth is so much more beautiful and satisfying than the myths, unleashing it would cause paradigm shifts so fundamental that the laws of unintended consequences would come to rule, and who knows what that would lead to." "But it shouldn't be just for an elite," the American girl said. "I haven't even mated with my brother and I know that. All girls should have the opportunity if they want it. It's as harmless as a butterfly and as beautiful as Victoria Falls in Africa. Girls should be able to bathe in loving their dads and their brothers, spend time in private with them maybe even every day, have their first babies with them if the domestic situation is adequate for another child, be permitted an interval in their lives when a baby is romantic, a love child, instead of a tax deduction or an unplanned nuisance, distraction, complication, distraction, and gigantic expense, to say nothing of being noisy and creating a god-awful mess. And all girls should be able to have at least part of it some of the time, even if their family doesn't want another child to nurse and help the elderly in its turn. How does an old woman in a nursing home feel looking back on her childhood with a sweet, attractive older brother if he never taught her and she never felt him go still in her arms and against her sweating chest? Can she be happy with those memories? Memories as convivial and bland as a Hallmark card? And then picture her incest daughter, a grandmother, herself, bringing in a blushing eight year old to hear an old woman's stories and listen to her advice. And it shouldn't be just one great granny out of hundreds or even dozens. It should be every second or third old woman, and old man, for that matter. It should be the big, happy secret it most families. They stay attractive to each other, they are likeable to each other, and they spend thousands of hours in wild, happy exercise with each other, perhaps even producing a family baby in the process. This should be universal; not only accepted and tolerated as it often actually is, today, but espoused, encouraged, and promoted in a quiet and dignified manner, `Family Fuck Fair, be There or be Square,' would, for example, be unseemly overkill, but small announcements in the classifieds would be appropriate. `The John Doe family takes pride in this special announcement concerning Derrick and our little Penny.' Nothing more need be said, and you can just picture many a sanguine nod over breakfast tables all over town." "Can I be the first one to kiss you?" Electra asked, eyes on fire as she gazed down on the beauty at her finger tips. "Yes," the girl hissed, but let your brother unbutton you, first. Partners in crime, they were nothing less, but they experimented with their lips and bare breasts quickly yielding to each other as if the stern and deadly church simply did not exist. The two Juan's moved to the opposite seat. "She's so beautiful and young, it's going to be incredible for you," the twenty two year old said to his sixteen year old friend. "And being with your sister while she's still live from your dad," the younger boy whispered back. "I hope that happens with me when we get home." "Can you tell us about something?" Juan Tyne asked and the girls on the opposite blue velvet seat broke their gentle kissing to nod encouragement. "It was a little like what happened with you and Roddy," the boy replied, "only Electra was a baby and away with our parents, I had a friend staying with me, and my uncle Condor was babysitting. We were both ten years old, Cito and I, and Condi was nineteen." "Where did it happen?" the young man whispered. "On the sofa," young Juan said, "Uncle Condi has been reading to us as elders perennially are reading to children in the best erotic stories, you know, porn." Sorry, made that up myself. "He'd been reading to us and we pushed him on his back and started wrestling with him. We each got an arm pinned over his head." "You have to tell us everything in the whole world about girls," Juan whispered with a shy giggle, "or we'll never, ever let you up until you starve and turn into a skeleton and we sell your bones to the man down the street with the big fence and the bigger dogs." "And we mean everything," Cit chipped in. "Angelita Marissa let us see under her blouse and her bra on Friday, and we were taught in English never to judge a book by its cover." "Yeah," both boys said, Cito adding: "there has to be a bad side to something that pretty. I mean we don't go around eating bleeding hearts, because they're alkaloid." "So there must be a bad side to girls, however pretty they are when they start to grow." "Had Angelita begun?" Condi whispered to the boys. "Kinda," they whispered back, flushing. Condi grew serious and his voice became low and husky. "Boys," he said, "would you like to have a really mature talk about that kind of thing, or just kind of kid around about it." "Mature," both said, again blushing. Cito, blond-haired and blue-eyed, coloring the most noticeably. "Okay, if you're sure," the teen whispered, "I want you to think about what it would be like with the girl if you were alone with her and she let you take her blouse and bra off and lay on her back and let you lie with your bare chest against her breasts. Do you think you'd like that?" "Yes," came two excited whispers, four eyes wide and glowing. "Could we practice with you?" Juan asked, his friend nodding readily in second of the motion. "Are you sure?" the teenage swimmer asked. "That would be homosexual, and homosexual feelings are just about like the feelings you get with a girl, so you might get confused." "We're pretty young," the beautiful Cito said, "so we'd probably be able to straighten it all out before we were your age." The boy made a good point. "The thing to remember," Condi said, "is that most healthy people never figure it out. Drones do, or anyway they think they do, they think they have all the answers and the only answers, but that's like a koala bear that eats only eucalyptus. How can he judge corn or peas?" The children nodded solemnly at the words of wisdom. "And the worst thing you could figure out," their teacher went on, "not that it's very likely given your appreciation for the beauty of young Miss Angelita, is that you're anything to do with gay. Gay guys are only gay, that's all they are, it's their whole existence, it's numbing, it's boring, and it's been done. The right way, and there is only right way, is to have a modest circle of close friends to whom you are loyal and with whom you spend a lot of time. That adds a lot of special excitement to life and harms no one. When you marry, your wife becomes your alpha partner and you spend most of your time with her, but no marriage to an intelligent woman was ever disrupted by either her or her husband, and preferably both, having a limited number of special friends. Friends, not secrets. And for men, this often means boys your age or a little older. Friends with secrets, not from the wife, but from the world do to the nature of the laws presently in vogue. And of course it's more complicated than that, but the most complex thing of all is to reach the end of your lives bedeviled by relationships you avoided because of the teachings of the church or the letters of the laws. When you're seventy, it's too late, although Casanova is said to have died in his seventh decade after sporting with a thirteen year old girls for hours. But why take chances? You can end up a street bum and gutter waste or frivolous laughing boys if you overdo it, chase everything, probably end up in jail where you belong, so I'm not saying either of you should mustang your way through the herd, but rather that you should stay slim, as a first order of, well, not exactly business, and adapt low-key and modest, friendly ways; be as useful to society as your education and privileges allow, and, of the dozens of people likely to be attracted to you, pick maybe half a dozen, say `I've got my share' to be a little crass about it, and smile shyly to the others, leaving no impression that you're going to stray in their directions or let them stray in yours." Again the methodical nods of the golden, black-haired beauty and his almost English schoolboy looking friend. "Does that mean," Juan asked, "that we can be friends with you that way, like you said, for a long time?" "Yes," Cito said, adding more plainly, "do you have room for us?" "As it happens," Condi laughed, "you're first in line. There are long periods in your life when nothing in the way of relationships is the best option, specifically including the time you spend in school when you should be slaying the algebra dragon until you've extracted every drop of blood from its corpse. Life rewards the long gamers, not the razzle-dazzle flash in the pan. For every relationship you avoid as a hot teen or even preteen, you'll one day find one a hundred times as good." "But you're a hundred times as good, Uncle Condi," Juan whispered, "and we have you now." "When I was your age," the nineteen year old responded, "I had a full and complete relationship with an older boy. He taught me everything. We did everything, a number of times. Instead of making me want more, it freed me to ignore sex, romance, and everything attached to them, not because I wanted to be celibate, but in furtherance of reaping pears and peaches when I grew up and not letting myself be distracted and waste time with a few little berries and raisins on the way." "Can we take your shirt off?" Juan whispered. The boys had eased off their wrestling and were lying side by side on the athlete's powerful chest. "Let's take our time and light some candles, would you like that?" Juan said. "Yes," both whispered, eyes shining. "We have all night, and all weekend," the teacher went on, "and I want to take you both all the way. What I'd like you boys to do, to be sure there are no misunderstandings, is to ask me in your own works to perform repeated homosexual activities with you. Is that okay?" They both nodded and flushed. "Uncle Condi," Juan led off, "I'd like you to teach me everything homosexuals do when they make love while Cito watches." "Uncle Condi," Cito said, grinning happily as using the honoritive, "I want to watch you be homosexual with Juan and touch me as much as you want to." They not only lit candles, they actually cleaned the place up; a girl in her first wedded home couldn't have been more dedicated to this little touch and that little domestic gesture. They giggled and minced a little, put on exaggerated lisps and cooed and mewed, instinctively smart enough to know they might as well get the whole bag of tricks out of the way at a fell swoop. Condi retreated to the shower, amused by their nervous enthusiasm as they decorated the scene of their deflowering. Rush, rush, rush, in half an hour they were in a glowing cave of hanging blankets, draped sheets, strewn flowers, incense, and splashed perfume. They zipped one at a time through the shower, dried quickly, and donned their wedding trousseaus consisting of white terrycloth robes. Pretty impressive. The boys guided the senior teen back to the sofa, now draped with a red silk sheet, and slowly wrestled him on his back, panting heavily at the slight exertion. Again they lay on him, their cute faces just within focus of his eyes. "The most controversial thing about what's going to happen," Condi said, "is talking. I don't know if the basis is cultural or more genetic, but some people, males and females, like to tell and hear a few stories of previous experiences, especially first-time experiences, and others think that while any physical activity is okay, including spanking and toilet activities, any voyeurism is sick. This goes for heterosexual and homosexual partners. So, I want to leave it that you can ask me questions if you want, but that you don't have to. Rule one is that the younger partner is always in full control of what happens and can stop any time he wants. Rule two is that once you've exposed your bare chests to me, you are have committed to at least trying to go all the way; to making me cum off and letting me make you both cum. Okay?" "Did the first boy that touched you like to talk?" Juan asked, killing two birds with on stone. "We had one long talk," the handsome teen said, "after that, we were like husband and wife; we found a routine we both loved, and, since nothing was better, even talking, that's what happened for about a month. Then we both lost interest in each other as partners, something that very often happens between men and boys, and went back to being friends, which we still are today." "How about if you had a boy our age staying overnight with you?" the sharp Cito asked, "would that make you interested in each other again, you know, while you taught him?" Condi laughed. "That's the smartest question I ever heard in my whole life and my nephew is a genius for having you as his best friend." Both boys smiled shyly and their teacher felt compelled to give them a short lecture on falling in love, its advantages and disadvantages, its limitations and restrictions when it came to men with underage partners, and its oft temporary and transient nature. "But it can happen?" Juan asked, Cito adding: "Did it with you?" "Yes and yes," the young adult replied, lighting four eyes with his words. "Before you let him touch you?" Juan said. "Yes," Condi said. "Cool, same with us," Cito chirped. "Being in love hurts," the teacher cautioned, "and I mean physically. When a boy loves another male, he wants his partner up inside his body. The process is anywhere from mildly uncomfortable to very painful, though after awhile it becomes very satisfying for the male taking the female role." "And it must be really special for the boy who's being the man," Juan observed. "That's why the boy encourages his older partner in the first place," Condi agreed, "because he knows how could a hand feels on his boner, so he can imagine the feeling of being inside a boy's tight, young body, and he wants to give that feeling to his lover." "I like talking about it," Juan said, his friend nodding. "It adds a real dimension," the teen agreed. "If we were taciturn it would probably have been over in five minutes, and that's not much to remember or share later with others." Again two nods. "But there are limits," Condi added. "Juan, I want to touch Cito first since he's a guest, is that okay?" "Yes," the boy whimpered in an excited rasp. "Good boy," his uncle responded. "If you want, you can share with us by lying on your back on my chest with Cito straddling your waist. He can display, that means link his hands behind his head or neck and arch is back, for us and you can open his robe for me. Would you like to start that way, boys?" Condi demonstrated the position lying on his back as the boy answered by shifting positions until the ninety pound blond was straddling his black-eyed beauty of a friend just below the boy's heaving rib cage. He displayed shyly and both the supine males gazed up into his wide eyes enjoying the sight of him just as he was. Finally their guests nodded shyly and Condi's hands went to him. Juan reached to his friend's waist, loosened the belt of his robe, then spread it wide and eased it from his shoulders. The boy returned his hands to their position behind his head and arched more boldly as Condi guided Juan's hands to him, letting the child be the first to caress the beautiful schoolboy's delicate frame. Then the teen and boy moved independently, taking turns with the tiny nipples and guiding each other lower and lower on the ten year old's belly. Without a word, both children opened Condi's robe, and Juan rolled aside as he guided his friend to his beautiful young uncle, watching avidly and touching openly as their bare chests slowly came together. The nephew steadied his friend as the boy again displayed, prompting the older male to arch wantonly against him. Cito gave Juan a hot look over his right shoulder and his friend opened his own robe, let both males look at him for a minute, then lay beside his young friend as Condi's arms found them both and pulled them in welcome. The boys relaxed from their initial display postures and all three relaxed and let their breathing return half way to normal. Twenty minutes passed. "Can we be naked with you?" Juan whispered, his friend hissing reflexively at the suggestion. "We better talk a little first, okay," the teen whispered. The boys agreed. "It may happen suddenly at any time," Condi explained. "Partly the love thing, partly the first time thing, partly that you're both outrageously attractive in a carnal way, and there are probably a few other `partleys', but what they add up to is the fact I could loose control any time we're naked. If you're ready it's erotic and exciting and hot to have an adult ejaculate all over you, shower you with his sperm, but if you're not, it can be shocking and upsetting, like being peed on or having someone sneeze on you. Do you understand?" The wriggling boys turned their heads and looked for a moment into each other's eyes for permission. "Is there enough to get us both wet?" Juan asked, answering a question with a question. "Juan," his uncle said, "when I got your mom's call last week inviting me to come and stay I remembered how much I wanted to be touched when I was your age and I stopped doing anything by myself, in case you wanted me to molest you or teach you. What that means is there will be a lot, especially the first time you boys make me cum off. You can both get wet from it." The children smiled shyly. "And you've probably heard about blow-jobs," the teen continued while he still had any voice left, "oral sex. Using your mouth and tongue on your partner's boner and bobbing your head up and down to simulate the feeling of being inside a female." The boys nodded hesitantly. "Okay," Condi said, "let me quote Kennedy by saying this about that, if you want to experiment while you're masturbating me, it's okay, but what I did with Nuke, he was Mexico's top nuclear engineer at age eighteen, so the name stuck, was make him cum fully with my hand, then I experimented with my tongue on some of the semen that had splattered on his chest. I think that's the right way to begin, because taking it fully in your moths is probably too intense for boys your age. Sperm has a heavy, salty flavor with something of a bitter aftertaste, and is not, as far as I'm concerned, an acquired taste; it just isn't very good from that point of view. And that's not to say a hot, salty gusher in your mouth is something you should never try, just that it should probably be under special circumstances; someone you really like and the third or fourth time you make him ejaculate, when both the quantity and intensity will be a lot less dramatic. Plus, for boys that look at homosexual lovemaking with aesthetic sensitivity, the sight of a nineteen year old, and I'm talking about Nuke, not myself, cumming off is not to be soon forgotten; in fact it can waylay misadventures because you already know, and nothing with this or that potential distraction is likely to be any better. I doesn't kill the curiosity factor, which is very exciting, but leashes it with perspective, which is all you can ask for with anything to do with mature behavior. "And since I've said this about that, let me say it about addiction. What's going to happen is going to be highly addictive, so here's how you leash that puppy. You focus and concentrate and end up as the best boys you can be. In your late teens or early twenties you'll have opportunities to show boys between eight and twelve what I'm going to show you. The only thing that counts is the quality of the boys you teach, because they'll be a litmus of your own quality. Good grades and good to excellent overall performance, and you will be handed, on a platter, as the two of you were handed to me, pubescent children wanting exactly what I wanted at your age and what you want. When you like back over the arm of a couch, your child or children straddling your upper thighs as they jerk you off your addiction peaks and is satisfied when the child or children, male or female, watch you ejaculate. "Did you ever in your lives imagine anything could be so simple?" "Is there any such thing as a sperm oath?" Juan wondered. "We can make one up while you're lying on my wet chest and experimenting with your tongues," Condi whispered. "I'm just glad there's no lingua spanka," Cito punned. "I don't know what it is about spanking," the elder male responded after a few moments, "but I guess it's here to stay, though, the way the unions are wracking and ruining England, that may be inaccurate." All were panting openly now, they boys bare chests sweaty against their young adult. "So far," Condi said, "I haven't really molested either of you, though we've come pretty close. Sexual molestation actually occurs, for a boy or girl, when he or she is touched inside where they wear a swimsuit. I want to do that, now. To have you both role on your backs and let me put my hands up inside your robes at the same time. Then, Juan, I'd like to open your robe, first, then your friends." They didn't roll like puppies, but in a minute were comfortably in their uncle's arms, bare to the waist, and displaying to his fondling touch. This was so erotic for all, it went on ten minutes as they whispered and wriggled in response, then the teen slid his hands down the flanks of the ten year old and began molesting them together. They were near twins, very well endowed as males, their penises the size of hot dogs and as hard as bones. "You're each mature enough to go up inside the other later tonight if you want to," the young man whispered to hissing responses. "Juan," he then said, "open your robe for Cito while I'm jerking you off." The boy recovered his hands and undid the belt of his robe, arching to free of himself of it, then lying naked, his hands back behind his neck. Cito stripped at the sight, and the two of them immediately pulled the nineteen year old's covering from him, wondered at his beautiful, slim, six inch erection, far, far more impressed than if it had been a thick monster too big for their young bodies. He looked as perfect for them as they looked for each other, and panting with raw excitement, they lay back on the swimmer's powerful chest and let the young adult masturbate them fully and openly as they stared down at themselves and each other, legs linked, arching in unison. "There's one more thing Nuke and I did?" the uncle whispered, "we used lotion to masturbate each other. There's some in my bedside table. Why don't you both go, because it won't be long now and we can afford a time out." Gently, he released both the panting boys and they rolled from the sofa and bracing each other staggered off down the hall, their huge erections throbbing high from their taut, juvenile bellies. In a few moments they reentered the living room, eyes now glazed and faces slack. Instinctively, both displayed for a few moments and Condi moved back over the arm of the draped couch, stretching until his arms reached the floor and opening his long, muscular legs.. The ten year olds mounted carefully, Juan on the adult's left thigh and Cito straddling his right. With the weight of the two preteens anchoring him, the adult arched fully. Juan spilled the lotion on his uncle and nodded to his schoolboy friend. Cito carefully pulled down the foreskin as Juan poured the lotion, then began masturbating him, both boys quickly using both hands, experimenting for a few moments, then working firmly and deliberately as they stared at the panting athlete and felt his increasing hardness in their stroking hands. "Were you by yourself with Nuke," Juan asked, "or was there another boy with you?" "I was on his left leg," the straining teen replied, "and his sister, Terracita was on his right leg." The response was not verbal beyond a hissing from both boys, but physical because they redoubled their efforts, gripping hard and pumping fast. "I'm cumming off," the nineteen year old gasped after a minute, showering heavily over the boy's shoulders and faces until they guided him to their heaving, birdlike chests, and finally to his own, letting the flow slick their hands an pool on his lower belly. They fell to him over the arm of the sofa, wriggling like tadpoles as their bare chests met his, and finally sighing to silence as the young man sat up and moved back onto the couch in, all considering, a remarkable exhibition of strength. They played affectionately and gently for hours, Condi guiding the boys for each other, taking them both until they shuddered with dry orgasms, then, spending half an hour mounting each as they lay on their backs, heads in their friend's laps. Eventually, they fell asleep, and didn't have sex for three days. The four on the train separated, buttoned up and also fell asleep, not to awaken until the jolting of the coaches and squealing of brakes signaled their approach to La Vista. John had questions about the visit and Carol responded shyly. He guided her into his lap and kissing, finally kissing, she settled panting fully onto him. As advertised, the eleven year old's description ran, it had been more clinical than romantic or sensual. The girls, sixteen of them, all kept their heels on their conception pallets, all brothers were fully successful with their little sisters within half an hour, all dressed smiling shyly at each other, and, after exchanging names and addresses for more frivolous and party-like times, they boarded east or west-bound trains and that concluded the interlude. "And one last question," John whispered, now fully and hugely inside the eleven year old in his lap. "Yes," she whispered softly, "I don't know if she's Daddy's or Juan's, but Electra's due around Christmas, probably within days of her namesake's twins... if you don't drown the poor mite." They kissed for long minutes, tenderly, ardently, welcomely, combatively as if fighting yielding to something so absolute -- didn't seem quite human -- and finally, Carol feeling her adult still fully hard and erect inside her, experimentally as she coaxed him. "Tell me about the hospital," she whispered. "It was something that came up at my sister's school," the engineer began, "they wanted volunteers to help with some of the kids in a long-term care ward. Special kids with cerebral palsy, moderate retardation, deformities, and other problems that weren't acute but kept them from the madding crowd. The orderlies in hospitals have to put up with a lot, and as a result, they're allowed access to some younger patients, even those in deep comas, but they tend to be a raunchy and callous crowd, so for these special kids, the nurses have set up a program of volunteers to come in and give them gentler treatment in the baths and therapy rooms, except the cystic fibroses kids, and there four or five teenagers pounding away works wonders over what an individual caregiver can do." "I figured it would be something like that," the naked girl said, wriggling on the hard penis of her hot lover as she kissed him once again and whispered for his story. "They didn't mince any words," John chuckled, "once they had us alone in the conference room. Jenny Nordstrom was our leader. She told us that these kids thrived on extensive human contact, on cuddling, caressing, and fondling that would be illegal in the outside world. Politely, she said anyone who was offended or uncomfortable could leave, and my guess is a swat team would have had a hard time clearing that room. She told us it could be emotional, romantic, clinical, or businesslike as long as it happened physically and repeatedly. It was a place for grownups, and a program to help, not talk about helping, which the Big Brothers do, then match a few hundred boys and men out of millions. She asked if there were any brother/sister couples in the room, there were about twenty boys and the same number of girls at the orientation, and Britt and I and Todd and Jesse Sterling raised our hands. Jenny told us that the highest level of success they had was bringing siblings together in the baths or on the beds in the clinic. After that, it would have taken a company of Marines to get anyone to budge. Say what you will in public, but when the subject comes up in an acceptable venue, folks start turning blue. "She went on to say that some of our duties would include seduction. A lot of fathers resist being with their little girls because of cultural restraints and brothers are reluctant to come and visit their little sisters for the same reason. Out job is to overcome the stereotypes and point out that taboo belongs in church, not where kids can be helped -- really helped -- in a safe and responsible environment. "We were told to be bold," John continued, "and that if anyone raised serious objections --as any contact was obviously voluntary -- we'd counter any threat of exposure with accusations against the accuser, and that would put an instant end to any interference from a nosey parker or dudley do-gooder. This had always been moot, she went on to explain, because everyone in the program loved it and felt they were in the best organization in Los Angeles. We were told we could bring friends and family as guests without limitations, and take children home with us in some cases." That was John's prologue. Who wants to hear the narrative? "We're nice but we're efficient," Jenny said, passing assignments to her fresh crop of novices, "and we make no bones about placing attractive volunteers with the more attractive children. This is not fair, but we would rather see a few children make spectacular progress than a lot make a little, because, bottom line, only fully attentive involvement does more than provide temporary pleasure and relief." The "class" murmured in agreement, and, paperwork in hand, began to rise from their chairs. Jenny Nordstrom put a quick end to their efforts. "One last thing before you go," she said in her friendly but mater-of-fact way, "and that is that we do allow certain young females to conceive. You'll know why when you see the highly challenged mothers with their babies and the renewed interest and involvement of their families. This is all done under conscientious medical supervision, so you males are not to use condoms." She announced she'd be in her office if anyone had further questions and bid her group a good evening as several aids entered the room and stood patiently by the door waiting for their new volunteers to find their legs. John and Britt followed their group to the cafeteria, where they'd have a chance to talk as they waited to be introduced to their patients. They got Cokes for their dry mouths and huddled at a table for two. "Wow, John, I didn't know," the schoolgirl said, "what do you think?" "What do you?" the twenty one year old asked his eleven year old sister. "I'm not quite sure yet," the girl replied, "I'm going to visit Jenny in her office and I'll be back in a few minutes." She reached across the table, almost spilling the soft drinks, and squeezed his hands, then left. Flushing noticeably, Britt returned in five minutes and sat once again. "She said," the girl reported, "that -- well, see if you can guess. She said that I could something-or-the-other, and that other girls my age had something-or-the-othered successfully in the last few years, and that one was something-or-the-other, now. Can you guess what something-or-the-other is?" "Not if I want to walk out of here on my own to feet," the already once-challenged young man said. "Good to have you on the team," Britt giggled, "Daddy." "Are you serious?" John choked. "John," the girl whispered, "she lit up like a bulb, Jenny did. She didn't hem and haw or mouth out a dish of platitudes and noncommittal nonsense, she said, `girl, you lasso that beauty you have for a brother, you hog-tie him on his back, you mount him and after you feel him cum up inside you, you lie on your back beside him for half an hour, then repeat the process and keep repeating it until you get it right.' She said we're going to be in an entirely alternative world here, a bonobo world, named for the passive chimpanzees who do special things together, all variations including adults and infants, instead of tearing flesh off each other like the red chimps. She said there's a derivative club for volunteers she can tell us about when we're further along in the program and we, you and I, should come visit her again." The girl gave her brother a very significant look. "John," she said, "we have an appointment, in ink, tomorrow at eleven a.m. and if I can't walk by that hour, I should call and reschedule." "I guess you are," the boy murmured reaching for her tiny hands. "I don't mean to be casual about it," she assured him, "and I can't even imagine how it's going to feel to learn about being a girl in your arms, but for us it makes a world of sense, even if it wasn't so romantic it makes me all weak and shaky. At school they even make boys wear a bowling ball in an apron and pretend it's a kid, and they warn us about girls having to stay home with a crying baby on Saturday night, as if everyone in the world was poor and decrepit and a child would descend on them like the crack of doom and intruder from hell. "I mean, they should," she said, "they should be very negative, I suppose, though one can't help wondering if it's negative world that's really at fault, but that doesn't fit all, just like majoring in media studies and dolphin nurture doesn't fit every college student." The young man liked his sister's vivid flashes of cynicism and chuckled, squeezing her hands. Realizing they'd been distracted from their duties, the two moved side by side at the table and opened their folder. "Allesandro, Sandy, Mac Connell, Age, 17," they read, looking at a photo of a beautiful and almost childlike teenage male diagnosed with a non-threatening altered mental as a result of head trauma. "Sandy's sister, Karen, seven, slipped in front of a shuttle bus at Big Bear," a paragraph of the report read,. "Her brother's immediate response prevented her being crushed by the oncoming vehicle, but he was hit in the back of the head by one of the van's mirrors as they were reaching safety. Young Mr. Mac Connell's injury resulted in a month-long light coma from which he has recently awakened. Physically, he suffers from a general loss of coordination exacerbated by muscular atrophy resulting from his temporary catatonic state. In his altered psychological state he has retained the gentle and personable characteristics which were his nature before the accident, and there have been no symptoms of epilepsy for other clinical aberrations. His prognosis is good to excellent, all professional staff agreeing intensive, affectionate, hydrotherapy will open doors which otherwise might remain clothed. Karen Mac Connell's relationship with her brother has always been avid and highly affectionate, and she, in lay terms, is `champing at the bit' to aid in `her hero's' recovery. Karen is a mature, well formed, and healthy girl, now eight years old, from a stable and secure family background. Medical opinion is that she should be allowed to do things her way when it comes to helping Sandy on his road to release from this institution." "And we don't have to pay to do this?" the gamin cutie asked her brother with the special smile that turned her plain, oval, slightly freckled face into a star's dream of beauty. "How long have we been here?" John murmured in response, "an hour and ten minutes. An hour and eleven minutes ago I was a nonchalant, happy-go-lucky kinda a guy, maybe a little on the studious side to be a whole lot of fun. Now I'm in worse shape than Sandy Mac Connell ever was." "Yes, yes, my beloved," the girl cooed softly, "but think of the nursing and the tender-loving-care on your road to recovery." "Exactly," John sighed as convincingly as one can when half panicked with an echoing, reverberating excitement about the equivalent of one country winning every Olympic gold medal at one moment. "Hi," a soft voice interrupted from a few feet away. Brother and sister looked around and saw a girl in a parochial school uniform smiling nervously at them. "My name's Karen Mac Connell," the child said. Both stood immediately, nothing suave in their action. Had someone mentioned the crack of doom, how `bout the crack of dawn? She was just nice looking, a classic kid-sis, nothing puffed up or feathered about her, the first one you'd pick for your softball team every time. Shocked a little to find himself standing, John nonetheless found his manners before his and is sister's gaping silence could be construed as distant. "This is Britt," he said, "I'm John," and he found an unused chair and brought it to their table, inviting her to sit before they dropped into their own chairs with an involuntary Wow. "An aid will be along in awhile to take us to Sandy," the girl said after some polite small talk. "Fine," John said, and went to get more colas for their three dry mouths. "Have you talked much with Penny Nordstrom," Britt asked. "Yes," the girl said with a blush. "What do you think?" "That I never knew what to pray for," the eight year old said. "That may be the world's biggest club," the eleven year old noted and they smiled at each other, trying to keep their expressions soft and shy as befits new acquaintances, but unable to keep a certain fire from their eyes. "Your brother seems nice," Karen allowed to Britt's flush. "According to the digest in the report, that's something you're an expert on," Britt responded. "We're lucky," the younger female said. "Even if it had been worse, if Sandy had been killed, I'd have more nice memories than most girls ever get." "The book of luck," Britt mused, "with a whole new chapter, and I think for both of us." "Well," her new entirely best friend said, "at least now I know hat to pray for, not that I will, it's just a figure of speech -- hope for, would be more accurate -- because I think praying is self-indulgent and supremely arrogant." "So you're not religious?" Britt asked, nodding at the girl's uniform. "I'm Catholic, not religions," the girl replied, "it's ritual, it's comfort, it's a blasted nuisance, and there can be no conceivable greater waste of time, but no one burns you for it these days, so what the heck." "I guess we're kind of not anything," Britt said as her brother reappeared and joined them. "We were," John allowed, joining in as best he could, "we were elk of the heard, run of the mill, every-day-ordinary-old, and not two hours ago. Now we're a bowl of Jell-O on a howitzer." Karen's eyes crinkled and only thoughts of being with her brother kept her from giggling at the silly boy. "Are we meant to talk, you know, pretty frankly before we meet Sandy?" Britt asked. "I don't know," the girl flushed, "how do you guys feel about that?" "I guess," John answered, "we were both coming to the realization that if we're in for a penny we're in for a pound." "As in: being hanged for a sheep as a lamb?" their guest, eyes bright, asked. Both nodded, welcoming her to a literary club more unlikely to children her age than membership in the AARP "Did Sandy read to you before he was hurt?" Britt asked. "Every night," the girl said. "Jenny knows here business," John said, feeling relieved that there was more than a physical standard to the institution's matching policy. "We read a lot, too," his sister noted. "Have you tried any texts on abnormal psychology?" Karen asked. "Gracious of her to ease so winsomely into the subject at hand," the Mallard siblings thought. "We've been reading V.C. Andrews," Britt replied, causing her brother to choke openly and grab for a cup of soda, glad he hadn't been drinking and kibitzing. "I'd been holding off on her," Karen said, "until I was a little more, you know, like a girl before I read him "Flowers in the Attic." "How do you think he will respond," Britt asked, adding in her own inimitable style: "maybe now that he's a little, you know, younger, you'll appear a little older." "All a girl can do is hope," Karen said with a shy smile much like her older friend's. "Unless she has a hope-less brother," Britt flashed, "then she goes for a knife." "So you've never experimented?" the eight year old asked. "No," Britt said, "and I guess maybe I'd have been scared if we had, until today, until Jenny. Now I'm scared it won't happen even more than I am of it happening. Jell-O." "It was going to happen with us at Big Bear," Karen said, tears appearing in her eyes. "I waited for a bad weather report, but I kept it to myself; everyone else was too busy to notice, so it was easy. And, yes, I had the first three "Flowers" books, and we were going to be sharing a room, and snowed in, and I was being extra careful so nothing would go wrong at the last minute, and I slipped, anyway." She dried her eyes quickly and looked up bravely, a light deep in her blue eyes suggesting her life wasn't over yet. "Did you talk about it, is that how you knew it was going to happen?" Britt asked. "On the way up. There was no hiding the weather report once we'd begun driving, and he wanted to turn back saying it wouldn't be fun in a blizzard and we'd be better off hanging out on the beach. I told him to keep driving and that I was seven, not five, and definitely knew where I wanted to spend the weekend, weather be damned -- first time I ever used it aloud -- with my big brother. He got very nervous after that, but he's a smooth, careful driver so we made it anyway, at least to the parking lot." "Thanks to power brakes, I'll bet," John said, making the three of them wonder if it would ever be safe to drink so much as a sip of water in each other's company. A figure with a clipboard approached and identified herself as Nurse Agate. "Sandy's been taken to a semi-private pool," she said, introducing herself and then leading them from the cafeteria. She pointed out the striping on the floor, and they followed it to the ward where she said a few words to the security officer and waved good-bye as he buzzed the three visitors in, indicating the third door on the right. "Go right in." "Hi," two nervous voices said as they left the hospital. No blaring intercom, no fluorescent lights, no clinical flooring. It was even funky, sidewalk-contemporary furnishings, book cases full of worn titles, dark and lighted with candles. The voices belonged to Todd and Jesse, the others sibling's in the Mallard's orientation. "I think we're meant to sit and talk awhile," Jesse said after introductions had been made and they'd seated themselves. "Did you guys get to know each other before they brought you here?" "We had Cokes together," John said, "do you know about Sandy?" "No," Todd, a fit and quiet-eyed seventeen year old said, "we're here with a girl, Valerie Hobbs. She has cystic fibrosis." The newcomers groaned aloud at the news and spontaneously moved to their impromptu hosts, hugging in sympathy. They told Sandy's story, their new friends smiling encouragingly at the boy's excellent chances. "It's like another planet here," Todd observed after awhile, "the things we're encouraged to talk about and allowed to share with each other." "It's hard to know where to start," his sister added, "even dragsters take a few seconds to get to two hundred miles an hour." John laughed. "Mine only goes thirty." "But you should see it," Britt said, "it looks cruising for a brusin', but it's electric, like an oversize golf cart, only with a '32 Ford body." "That's pretty classic, " the seventeen year old observed. "It was already half restored when I got it," John said, melting the ice in the true-blue American way, "but I already had a car/car, and I needed something to just motor around the hills in and use to watch the kids cruise on Saturday night. Fifty mile range, thirty miles an hour. Really, just welding and bolting. Two truck starter motors, so you don't need a differential.." "There should be more of them," Britt said. "We can crawl in traffic for an hour, listening to the radio, and it costs about two cents worth of electricity." "Probably never happen," the engineer said, "eight hundred pounds of batteries to equal the range of a gallon of gas. The physics and chemistry can't be reduced. The batteries in '68 are the same as they were in '28, and, other than incremental improvements, the same as they'll be in '98. You can't get safe energy out of a thimble, no magic, ever." They talked about cars for several minutes, the damn things were fun whatever your intellectual a aspirations or attainments, and by delaying entry into their new planet merely increased the tension of the entry. Inevitably, a lull occurred. "Valerie will be here in a few minutes," Jesse said, "she's having her percussion therapy now. I guess you can probably figure out she's with her brother. We met him for a few minutes when they first came in." "He's nineteen," Todd added, "and his sister's twelve." "Oh, she's so lucky," the eight year old whispered spontaneously, blushing when she realized her mistake. Anyone could have made it, and they nodded reassuringly. "About as simple as a story gets," Jesse said, "she wants to have a baby before she gets too sick; his. The doctors have checked the genetic side of it, and there's no special hazard with Rafe, her brother, and they've been close all their lives, so it's green lights and the hospital setting is to give them an excuse to be alone together, something they never get at home due to parents and five healthy sisters." "Is she the youngest," Britt asked. "Not for long, if she can help it," Jesse said, a tentative grin until the others responded as though possessed of wits higher than those found in the potato bin at the produce counter. "Even though she's sick," Karen said, "she's lucky to be twelve. Old enough. No matter what happens with Sandy, I have to wait at least three years." "You're right," Jesse agreed, "she'll be queen of their family for the next six or seven years, and leave a princess who remembers her behind. Girls have been known to have it worse." "Something that can provide a silver lining for that disease is pretty powerful," Britt noted. "And that something has scat to do with silver crosses and goblets," the youngest said, blushing at once again being outspoken. "But that is the irony of it," John said, "it's so absolutely wrong by all standards, legal, social, and religious, where do you find even a hint of Christian tolerance?" "It's like all of religion is based on adversarialism," Todd said, "persecution gave the churches their motivation to survive; if Christianity had been accepted in the first centuries A.D., it would have ended up another of a thousand splinter religions no one in his right mind has ever heard of." See, it goes like this. Small minds talk about people, and they'd done that, medium minds talk about things, like cars, and they'd covered that, and great minds talk about ideas. The wonder of the formula is that all minds reach a point where they stop talking... eventually. "We were pretty frank when we talked with Karen earlier," Britt said, upholding the females' leading roles in the conversation. "We told her we hadn't done anything, John and I, and she said she and Sandy hadn't either. Is it okay if we ask you?" "We had the same problem Valerie and Rafe do," Jesse said, "we knew we felt special about each other, more than like brother and sister, but we have a big, functioning family, so the opportunity to even talk was hardily there. Then one of Todd's swim teammates, Karl Savage, told him about Schuler, the guy that preaches from the top of the drive in theater. Two hours on Sunday, nine to eleven. He'd met me at a science fair and he had a sister my age, Virginia, which was ten when it happened, last year. He didn't really tell any secrets, but said you could turn the religion off with a knob, and pointed out the fact that the collection guy only came round once or maybe twice, and you could see him approaching a mile away. Todd wasn't sure, but we could always listen to the radio and hang out and talk, so he accepted an invitation for both of us, telling me it wasn't church church as far as he could tell, but that Karl and Virginia were very close and it might be special to spend a couple of hours in their Buick with them." "Were you suspicious, at all?" Britt asked, eyes glowing. "Well, put it this way," her new friend said, "if we'd gone and talked about books and plays and symphonies and this artist and that actor, well, I wouldn't have gone home disappointed, but as it was, we went home in no way in the least disappointed, whatsoever, and we talked about art and writers into the bargain." "Were you dressed in church clothes?" Karen wanted to know. "Let my brother tell you," the girl said with a blush. "It was the first time she wore a bra," Todd said, little more composed than his eleven year old sister. "Virginia, too. And both girls were dressed in pretty prints with zippers in the back and stockings and white heels." He pulled out his billfold and showed the three new arrivals pictures of two pretty schoolgirls, matching bonnets to handbags, standing at the door of the car, how cute, and off to hear the wizard. "Rafe was driving because he was seventeen and I was sixteen. The theater was half full and all the cars were parked as far from each other as they could manage. We pulled in and put the speaker in the window. Ten minutes of unctuous theatrics was enough for a month, and we were all so glad we couldn't see the oily face we hardly had the heart to slice and dice. We asked the girls if they were bored, and they said no, but they were uncomfortable, then Virginia leaned over the seatback and started whispering with Jesse. That went on for a minute or so, then the girls repeated that they were uncomfortable but they wouldn't be if they were at the beach. Before we could respond they started giggling and said not the real beach, where would they put their new dresses? but that we could pretend we were at the beach and they could keep their frocks neat by hanging them over the back of the front seat. `You know what?' this little pussycat said, and here he petted his sister's knee, `this isn't the beach, it's church, and in church people are meant to congregate.' They went to nodding at each other as girl will, and the next thing you know, out the front door, and that was happening all around us, people getting out of their front seats and into the back seats, and that doesn't allow for those who just slid over, and in the back door and we were congregated, Virginia and Jess kneeling in between Rafe and I, backs to us, zippers on prominent display." "They were so cute," Jess carried on, "like some kind of wax figurines full of explosives had been ordained from on high, and here they were left with coping. But you know, they did okay." "Have you seen each other?" Todd whispered in his sister's ear. "No," the eleven year old said, her eyes trained hotly on her age-mate. "Will that be exciting, or like at gym?" he prodded. "More like we were out in the woods," Virginia joined in, "talking about our cute older brothers and trying to be polite, at least a little bit, and find out stuff, too, and, you know, we asked each other a lot of questions like, `does he seem to notice you're growing up/' and `have you ever wanted to be really brave and just, you know, take it off and let him see you bare/', things like that." "Things," Jesse added, quickly adapting to the woodsy environment, however far-fetched in Los Angeles, "like, `do you think of him helping you take it off sometimes/' and `Rage, Mom bought me three; red, black, and white, which one do you like best?'" "And," Virginia said, taking her turn, `Todd, you know how bad I am with mechanical things, you know, keeping the springs straight when we go through the four-barrel, so would you show me how the little doohickey at the back works?' or `Rafe, do you think I'm old enough for this, because I don't want to get a reputations as being a snob or a showoff?'" "Just using nice language," Virginia explained, "not like we were sluts, just two girls who were lucky enough to have gentle, friendly big brothers who'd taught us to power-shift and loop radio-control model Spitfires, you know, brothers we really, really liked and would marry every day of the week if the dumbest people hadn't been chosen to make the dumbest laws." "Every day of the week," Jesse added, meaningfully. "Why don't people live like that?" Virginia wondered more seriously as the two teens knelt behind their sisters, fondling their hair and necks. "Brothers and best friends together, I guess sort of a commune, or extended family, and, at night, married instead of dating one all-hands creep after another, with big boners and tiny IQs, or, if not IQs, because that doesn't matter all that much, but books-I-have-read lists. We could have perfect lives cheaper than we have lives with a big chunk missing, less work, because there'd be more hands to do it, environmentally friendly because the same amount of heat and air-conditioning would serve two families instead of one, and more fun because there'd always be someone to stay home and watch the baby, and more fun because there'd be bound to be a moron in the crew to make us laugh." "Now do you see why I liked her?" the present-time Jesse said, briefly interrupting Todd's and her story. The other three in the waiting room nodded, and she returned to the drive-in congregation. "We're to fractionalized," Jesse said, "since we're free, we must be totally free, live independently as rugged individualists. That's dumb. In palaces dozens of families live together with some private space, probably not very much for most, and lots of public space for eating, socializing, and recreation. Only it would be better in a house, because a palace is too big, too many choices, too much confusion. A house with seven or eight people, two or three adults and some kids, that would be perfect. Love free, because the group would have to evolve and welcome outsiders at some point, but not passion free, in fact, just the opposite, free passion, every night if you wanted but never when you didn't. Several males for each female, and several females for each male." As has been mentioned, great minds talk about ideas. "And don't forget boys and boys," Virginia mused, "boys are beautiful together, even when they're dressed for church." "And I guess we look okay, too," Jesse noted. Todd and Rafe said nothing, just locked their eyes. "Imagine them," Virginia went on, "even at the beach in bathing suits. How powerful their bodies are, or at a pool, how they'd look wrestling in the water." "And then if they were open with each other," Jesse added to the fantasy, "you know, the kind of boys who wouldn't mind skinny-dipping together even if their bratty little sisters were spying on every move they made." By this time the girls were playing with each other's hair and tracing one another's face with tiny, gentle fingers as their male escorts huddled them closer to each other, opening their pretty dresses and zipping them down to the waist. Carefully, the girls eased free of their garments which were carefully folded and draped over the seatback. Now their fingers roamed necks, shoulder and chests as the panting males unfastened their small bras, and, huddling so all four heads were together and they could see everything, bared the eleven year olds to each other, gently raising their arms in back of their heads and arching them as if they were artists posing models. By accord Todd and Rafe released the displaying girls and slipped out of their slacks and shirts, returning to their babes clad only in their briefs. This time their powerful arms went around their sisters, their hands starting at each's lower belly and moving up under the budding breasts, but allowing the girls the first delicate touch of each other. "If we start kissing, we'll never stop," Jesse whispered, and her companions nodded, choosing wanton molestation in place of making out, which they could find time for later. But the girls did hug, bracing each other as their brothers lowered their panties and got them completely naked, down to their pretty white socks. Neither Jesse nor Virginia said anything crass like It's out turn, both just moved behind their strapping, athletic brothers and coaxed them as high on their knees as the overhead allowed, then ran their fingers over the muscular chests, leaning around to nibble at the male's arms as they watched each other. Their hands went everywhere, then began circling lower as their hot breaths began panting openly. "Should we get them naked or watch them strip each other?" Virginia wondered in a ragged whisper. "I know what," Jesse replied, "I'll show you Todd's penis, then he can show us your brothers." Under such circumstances, who can credit any but the greatest of minds with any capacity to think at all? Both males nodded their approval, Jesse guiding her brother into display before her hands found him very low and stripped his briefs to his knees, half crawling over him to share the sight of his huge seven inch erection jutting high between his legs. "He looks like he could make a baby from the back of the class," Virginia murmured, schoolgirl that she was. Todd remained on display for several minutes, then reached to his friend's bare chest and tacked his fingers to the swimmer's tiny nipples as both girls stared, fascinated. Then down, and in moments both boys were showing off as only a well endowed and hugely erect teen male can. The girls huddled behind their brothers for a moment, getting them completely naked, then repositioned themselves on their sibling's laps, their bare nipples inches from the heaving chests of the boys. As in dance, they postured and came together, forever, it felt like. The chest-to-chest display continued for some moments, then the males took the females in their arms and, refrains from kissing obviously appropriate, nuzzled their necks as the girls held hands and submitted to the crushing welcome of the athletic teens. "Imagine there's more, isn't that amazing?" Virginia whispered as she and Jess moved away from Todd and Rafe, establishing a distance where they could again stare down at the huge penises, Todd circumcised, Rave not. "Touch each other the way you want us to touch you," Jesse suggested. Todd reached across with his right hand, whispering, `how would I know, I'm as big a virgin as you are,' but nonetheless following instinct and finding his rock hard friend and after fondling him gently, guiding Virginia's right hand to the head of his shaft and helping her pull her brother's foreskin slowly down. Jesse began taking Todd as he was taking the seventeen year old, stroking experimentally, then settling down to a hot, steady rhythm. Virginia also began fully masturbating her naked brother and both boys linked their fingers behind their necks and arched to their pretty preteen sisters. "If even a tiny drop of sperm gets up inside a girl she can get a baby from it," Virginia whispered to her friend. "This must be the same as what will happen later when they're in our tummies," Jesse said in response, "I mean it must feel the same to them, or at least pretty the same, so maybe they'll let some spill out and we'll know if there's enough to, you know, share, or whether we should just stay with our own boys until it's time to go home." "It'll be cool if there is enough," Virginia said, "because I'd really love to watch Rafe being inside you." "It would be even more exciting if Todd was with you," Jesse panted, "then when we kiss each other later we wouldn't have any secrets at all." Silent for a few minutes, the girls concentrated on their hot lovers, panting in anticipation as they felt the tension in both males rising moment by moment. The boy's linked their arms, caressing their sisters with their free hands. "We're going to cum," Rafe whispered, "don't stop even if you get scared." Both girls nodded and redoubled their attention. The older boy began grunting wildly then whispered very softly, "oh, sis," and started cumming with a random splashing that almost instantly settled into a hot spurting nearly splashing against the headliner of the car. "Oh, Virginia," Jesse whispered, "he's so beautiful." "Do you want sperms on your chest now," the girl panted, "or do you want to wait for Todd?" "Yes," Jesse said, "and hold him against my brother, too. If the boys were alone together, they'd spray all over each other, I know they would." So it was said by kitten, so it was done. The sight of Rave sperm splashing on Jesse's belly brought an feral grunt from Todd, and to his little sister's excited yips he began cumming on her breasts. For a few moments, both males were in full release, splashing their pretty, schoolgirls sister and each other, until both began ebbing, their sisters letting the heavy ending flow of their semen cascade over their hands as they became still. "Remember what we said about kissing?" Virginia asked, licking her right hand significantly. Great minds think alike and Jesse caught on instantly, licking her own white-slicked hand, and thus offering her brother to her friend as she learned of hers. The boys cuddled the eleven year olds together, eventually pulling them to themselves, wanting to feel heir budding breasts hard against their slick, wet chests. There was yet half an hour to the service, and the two couples spent it carefully coming together as male and female, the males quickly ejaculating inside their virgin sisters, then easing them to each other, where it also happened, quickly and fully, and, half crazed with the thought of their beloveds carrying the fresh seed of another male, repeated the entry of their sisters, the girls now lolling and gasping in their laps, until with a final howling release they all climaxed together with just enough time left to fully open the car windows, dry in the desert breeze while they murmured and petted each other, and slip carefully back into their clothes, Amen. HOLLYWOOD GRAFFITI -- END FILE II xxx