Bummer Love-In

From the corner of my eye I saw Amanda fling the door open wide. "What can I do for you officer?" she asked politely, standing there totally naked.

"Well I'll be..." the officer stammered. "Jerome, check it out. We got us a real live naked hippie chick."

"Hot dog!" a voice crooned from outside the bus. "I guess we can dispense with the strip search."

"Turn around, young lady" the cop demanded. Amanda complied, dutifully showing her smooth ass to the lecherous pair of law enforcement personnel.

"Nice. Did we interrupt anything important?" the cop asked, craning his neck into the dimly lit bus. By this time, I had my jeans back on, although there was nothing I could do about the wet spot growing inside my shorts.

"No sir," Amanda said politely. "Nothing important. Do you need to see license and registration?"

"Well," the cop said, pausing for affect, "that depends."

"That depends on what, Sir?"

"That depends on what's going on in here. One the one hand, I could probably search this bus and find all kinds of contraband substances. But then I'd have to do all that paperwork, you know, the arrest reports, logging the evidence, stuff like that. On the other hand, if you were to cooperate with me, we could just forget this whole thing and Jerome and I could be on our way in no time.

"I'd be perfectly happy to cooperate in any way," Amanda said, puffing up her chest.

"I knew we could work something out," the cop guffawed, unhooking his gun-belt. "You," he snapped, giving me the evil eye, "out! Now!"

I shuffled past the portly officer and stumbled out into the blinding sun, almost knocking Jerome down. "Sorry," I said, grabbing his shoulder.

"No problem kid," he said with a buck-toothed grin. "I get a little clumsy after shooting my load too." He gave me a friendly elbow in the ribs, and I shuffled over next to a tree, wondering about the fate of my sweet Cherokee.

I watched as Jerome disappeared inside the bus, and then the door closed. I sighed, sick to my stomach with worry. What would the cops do in there? Sure, they'd fuck Amanda. That was the whole point of her opening the door naked, to pay them off, so to speak. But would they want to fuck Cherokee too? I was about to head for the back of the bus so I could listen in when I saw movement behind the trees. A moment later, three guys appeared, who I recognized as members of Jerod's band.

"Dude!" the guitar player said. "What the fuck? Is Jerod getting busted? We were burning one in the woods, and we saw the cops show up."

"I think Amanda's taking care of them."

"Cool. Won't be the first time. Lucky for us she likes to fuck, eh?"

"I guess," I said, suddenly realizing that I was definitely in over my head with this crowd.

"Who's the new chick?" the guitar player asked, flicking the burned out roach into the weeds. "The one that looks like the fake Indian princess? I'll bet she's a nasty bitch. You can see it in her face. In fact, I'll bet her face is dripping with cum right about now."

"Yeah," the bass player added, "I'd fuck her in a heartbeat. I love those skinny chicks, the way they writhe around when they get all turned on? I live for that shit."

"The skinny chick's with me," I said, hanging my head.

"Bummer dude!" the guitar player laughed. "You are so screwed. She may have been with you when you got here, but my money says she's leaving with us. We're headed out to LA tomorrow to ink our record deal, and Jerod is looking for some local talent to sweeten the pot. Those LA record execs love fresh meat from the sticks - so innocent, so naïve."

Now they were all looking at me, waiting for my reaction. But what could I do? They could have been fucking with me, or they could have been serious. I had no way of knowing. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, accidentally discovering the wet spot seeping through my jeans.

The guitar player offered a suggestion. "You don't look well dude. You wanna go back behind the trees and burn one?"

Just then the door opened, and Jerome came stumbling out of the bus, buckling up his gun-belt.

"Who-ee," he sighed, "I never done nothin' like that before. We had her on all fours, with me in her mouth and Jeffy doing her doggy style. He's still in there goin' at it." He looked around, expecting a pat on the back I suppose. We just ignored him, although I was relieved that Cherokee wasn't involved with servicing Jeffy. That would have been too much to bear.

Just then Jerome's radio crackled. "Ten four," he barked, into the mouthpiece. "No problems back here. Jeffy's visiting the latrine. We'll be heading your way shortly. Over and out."

Resigned to my fate as hopeless onlooker, I took a step back and settled down at the base of a tree.

"Dude," the guitar player said, squatting down next to me, "these bitches come and go like the rain. You'll find another one. Shit, just walk through the crowd. There's got to be dozens of chicks out there who'd go for a cat like you."

His words of consolation rang hollow, but deep in my heart I knew he was right.

"Dude," the bass player interrupted, "you should give Amanda your number. Jerod's planning on ditching her tonight when we gas up the bus out on Highway 101, and she'll be looking for a ride back to town. She'd much rather go home with you than have to blow some trucker.

"Or strip for cash in the back room," the bass player added.

"She's a stripper?" I asked, feeling suddenly queasy.

"One of her many talents," the drummer added, smiling contentedly.

"And a thief," the guitar player chimed in. "Have you checked your wallet?"

"Thanks for the tip," I said, staring solemnly at my tennis shoes. The band guys resumed their discussion about which town had the best groupies, and I sat there like an ass, waiting to wake up from the nightmare that had taken over my life.

Finally, Jeffy the cop emerged from the bus, grinning like a pig in shit, his face covered in sweat, his shirt untucked,.

"See?" he said, clapping Jerome on the back, "I told you these hippie chicks would be a pushover. Everyone in the department is complaining about the hippie infestation? I saw bring 'em on. The more the merrier." Glancing at us, he squinted his eyes. "You boys never saw nothin', understand? If word gets back to the department about this, there'll be an APB out on you suckers, and once you get picked up, you'll be lucky to make it back to the jail house alive. You dig?"

'Yes sir," the guitar player nodded.

We watched the patrolmen stroll away, and then the band dudes headed for the bus.

"I'm going first," the guitar player announced.

"Shit," the bass player sighed, "you always get to go first."

"There ain't no first with this chick," the guitar player reminded him. "We're not even getting sloppy seconds. More like sloppy thirds." Then he shot me a friendly glance. "You coming, dude?"

"I think I'll just wait here."

"Good idea. You probably don't want to see what's going on in there anyway."

They disappeared, and I checked my wallet. Thank god my money was still there. Then I thought about the encouraging words from the guitar player, and it dawned on me that he was right. I did have a VW bus, and enough money for gas and a bottle of Boone's Farm. My future was brighter than the big yellow sun painted on the front of Jerod's groupie-fucking bus. Too bad I couldn't convince myself of it at the time.

A few minutes later, the groupie-bus door opened, and Jake poked his head out. "Hey Bobby. Cherokee's asking for you."

"Really?" I jumped to my feet, tears welling up. Had my sweetheart finally come to her senses? Was it time for me to take her to the motel and consummate our love?

"She wants to know if you'll go back to the car and grab her bag."

Before I had a chance to answer, the door slammed shut. Stunned, I trudged off towards the overflow parking lot, avoiding the crowd by taking the forest trail. I suppose I should have enjoyed the view when I came across the hippie couple fucking behind some bushes, and the two naked women braiding each other's hair in an acid daze, but I was in no mood for that. I just wanted my sweet innocent Cherokee back. Her laugh, her sparkling eyes, her soft hand curled in mine, this had been my whole life for the last ten months, and it was just too overwhelming to throw it all away in one messed up afternoon.

I reached the VW bus and jerked the handle of the side doors. The locks had broken long ago, but no one bothered to try to steal anything from me, since all I ever had in there was a foam mattress covered with a Goodwill bedspread, and maybe an empty bottle of Boone's Farm wine. I grabbed Cherokee's fake American Indian bag and headed back to Jerod's bus.

When I reached the school bus, the door was ajar, and I could hear laughter coming from inside. I crept up the steps, peered in, and saw Jake and the band guys, minus the bass player, crowded in a circle, as if they were shooting dice or something. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized Amanda was in the middle of the circle, still naked, squatting over an empty wine bottle. She lowered herself onto it until the neck disappeared into her pussy, and then she picked it up, to the cheers of the crowd. Was this Cherokee's fate, picking up wine bottles with her pussy to entertain musicians and dope dealers?

I laid Cherokee's bag on the driver's seat and turned to go.

"Bobby!" came Amanda's surprised voice, followed by the sound of the wine bottle clunking to the floor.

I turned and stared at her nakedness, feeling suddenly cold and disgusted.

"You brought Cherokee's bag?" she asked.

I pointed to the driver's seat.

"Cool," she said, looking a little lost for words.

"Hey dude," the guitar player smiled, "good luck. And don't forget what I told you - like rain, right?"

"Right," I said, stumbling back out into the fading light.

The sun was going down, Moby Grape was playing their last song, and I was slogging back to my VW, pondering my fate. I had not only lost my soul-mate to a bunch of sleazy musicians, I had also given up my virginity to a hippie stripper who's greatest talent was picking up wine bottles with her cunt. I didn't see the humor in it at the time. All I saw was Cherokee, naked in the back of the bus, fucking every member of the Black Arm Band, a vision that I was certain would haunt me for the rest of my days.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I stumbled up to the drivers door of my VW. That's when I realized the side door was hanging wide open. I crept around the front of my microbus, peeked in, and there, curled up on the mattress, was a naked woman. Not just a naked woman, but a naked goddess of a woman. The curve of her waist, the bulge of her heavy breasts, she could have walked straight out of a Renaissance painting, except back in Michael Angelo's day, you didn't see women with an all-over tan.

It took a moment to register, and then it dawned on me. The newspaper called them acid casualties - the unsuspecting or unlucky who take too much LSD and end up in a psychotic state, sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently. Was that what I had occupying my VW bus? A loony tune?

I sat on the floor and waited, hoping maybe she'd snap out of her trance and introduce herself. While I waited, I couldn't help but take in her earthy beauty; her golden brown skin, her blonde, braided hair, her breasts, ample and full, with big puffy brown nipples. This wasn't some teeny-bopper, this was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, a woman old enough to know better than to take bad acid and end up naked in a stranger's VW bus.

The sound of her breathing was comforting, especially for a guy who had just gotten dumped. I studied her nakedness, especially her slit, which was similar to Amanda's but yet different. I guess if Amanda's could have been categorized as belonging to a food group, it would have been romaine lettuce - frilly and detailed. The naked woman's pussy looked more like it was from the eggplant family - smooth and shiny with a slight purplish tinge.

As I sat there in silence, I was struck by her fragrance, which seemed to be a blend of sandalwood and something dark and rich, like butterscotch. Just as I was getting my nerve up to crawl a little closer, she opened her eyes and looked around, slowly, as if the interior of the bus was a movie screen, with different scenes showing on every wall. After a few moments, she focused on me. "Are we safe?" she asked, a curious grin lighting up her face.

"Yes, we're safe," I stammered, hoping she didn't catch me staring at her precious pussy.

She pondered my comment for a moment, and then reached her arms out towards me. "Hold me?" she said, with an air of innocence that broke my heart. Surely, at this very minute, some guy was frantically looking for her? Or perhaps she was in an "open" relationship, and her guy was screwing some clueless wonder like Amanda?

It didn't matter, really, because all we have is The Now, or at least that's all I had at that moment, on that day of the Love-In in New Monterey. I climbed onto the mattress and started to cuddle up behind her.

"Bare skin," she whispered. "No clothes. Bare skin."

I peeled off my shirt, jerked down my pants and sticky shorts, and eased up behind her. Without a word, she took my hand and clamped it gently onto her heavy breast. At the same time, her legs opened, making room for my rapidly expanding cock to nestle up against her glossy cunt.

"That's perfect," she whispered, scrunching her springy butt up against my groin. This shoved my dick clear up into her bush, which was a good thing, because that meant I couldn't accidentally slide it inside her and fuck her while she was incapacitated. I suppose that's what other guys would have done, but I just didn't have it in me. I'd already been screwed by a stripper who's boyfriend ordered her to fuck me, I didn't want the second piece of ass in my life to be another accident. I wanted it to mean something.

It was so peaceful, lying there with my mystery woman, I couldn't help myself from dozing off. It was like the world had stopped turning, giving me respite from my ordeal with Cherokee, and perhaps giving me a second chance at extricating myself from the misery of my screwed up life.

I awoke to the sound of her voice, low and velvety like a movie star.

"Uh oh." She looked around. "Where am I?"

"You're in my van," I said, letting my hand recede from her breast.

"Oh My God!" she shrieked. sitting bolt upright. She snatched a corner of the bedspread to cover her classic tits. The horror on her face meant one of two things; either she'd come out of her acid induced psychosis and suddenly realized she was naked with a stranger, or she was still in it. Way in it.

"Sorry," I gasped, throwing my T-shirt into my lap. "It's not what you think. Nothing happened. You were laying here naked when I came back to my van after the love-in. You asked me if it was safe, and if I could hold you, and then you said 'bare skin, no clothes'."

"Jesus," she moaned, dropping the corner of the bedspread. I tried not to stare at her gorgeous tits, but it was a struggle. Her nipples were the color of milk chocolate, smooth and glossy looking. The funny thing was, her tits didn't look nearly as heavy as they felt when we were cuddled up and she clamped my hand there.

I tore my eyes away from the visual banquet in front of me and looked out the window. "Do you remember the Love-in?"

"Oh yeah," she said, adding a guttural laugh. "I met a guy, found out we were both Virgos, he asked if I wanted to trip with him, and now here we are. I wonder what happened to him?"

"We could try to find him," I offered, feeling guilty about the whole thing.

"No way," she chuckled. "I'm lucky I escaped, although I am curious about my clothes."

"You seem quite comfortable without clothes. Your all-over tan is impressive."

"Oh that," she sighed, looking down at her naked body. "I've got a place in L.A. Ever hear of Laurel Canyon?" She trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. While she daydreamed, I pulled my jeans and shorts back up and was about to pull on my shirt when she interrupted. "Got anything I can wear?"

Cherokee's flannel shirt was still in the front seat. Actually, it used to be my flannel shirt till she adopted it. During the course of the last few months, the buttons had started falling off, but it didn't matter, since she only used it as a jacket and never buttoned it anyway. I grabbed it out of the front seat. "Here you go."

"Perfect," she grinned, puffing out her chest as she pulled it on. Finding the one button in the middle, she looked down at her sexy cleavage and laughed. "Wanna go to an all-night restaurant and cause a disturbance?"

"Sure," I said, not knowing whether or not she was serious. She was obviously an adventurous woman, and I didn't want her to think I couldn't keep up with her.

"Actually," she reflected, looking down at her blonde puff of a bush peeking out between the bottom flaps of the shirt, "I'd probably need a second piece to complete this outfit."

"You think?"
 "Wise guy," she giggled, pulling the shirt flaps closed.

"Come on," I said, tearing my eyes away from my Playboy bunny and creaking the side doors open, "let's see if anybody left any clothes laying around the parking lot."

I climbed out and she followed, the view of her mischievous cleavage impossible to ignore. Remembering the gentleman crap my dad tried to teach me, I took her hand to help her out.

She shot me a dazzling smile. "Some people think that's corny, but I love it when a guy does that. I swear, even though I totally embrace women's liberation, I hate to see the old ways vanish."

We made a circle around the VW and discovered that not only were we the only car in sight, but no one had left a shred of clothing for her to cover her valentine ass with.

"Let's not sweat it," she said, looking down her front. "This shirt's long enough that if I don't bend over, no one will know there's nothing on underneath."

"That probably wouldn't fly in restaurant though," I said, fishing the car keys out of my pocket.

"Probably not," she chuckled, walking around to the passenger side.

"Do you want to cruise the parking lots, just in case your car's still here?"

"That would be cool," she said, climbing into Cherokee's spot.

"What are we looking for?"

"It's a red Jaguar XKE. Shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Cool," I sighed, imagining how the sleek curves of an XKE complemented the sleek curves of her body. Joan Baez also had a red XKE, and I couldn't help but wonder if they were friends. Then it dawned on me I didn't even know my mystery woman's name.

"I'm Harold," I said, extending my hand. She took it firmly.

"Natasha," she smiled, her right nipple peeking at me from inside her shirt. I tore my eyes away and started my VW, visions of her jiggling breasts dancing in the headlights as we scanned the grounds for her car.

"Damn him," she said to herself, gnawing on a finger nail. "Would you mind dropping me off where I'm staying? It's just down off of Lighthouse near Cannery Row."

"No problem," I said, suddenly heartsick at the thought of saying goodbye to my half-naked earth goddess. Hoping to prolong our little impromptu date, I came up with an alternative plan.

"Are you thirsty? We could stop at the all night gas station on Forest and grab some juice or something."

"I'd love that," she beamed, "but I don't seem to have any money on me."

"No kidding."

"Shut up," she giggled, flipping the flap of my shirt back into her lap.

"I've got money" I said, as we left the park and headed up David. "So Natasha, what's Laurel Canyon like? Is that where you got your all-over tan?"

"Laurel Canyon is like the garden of eden. It's a very open and loving community. My neighbor Sherry and I spend a lot of time on the back deck, sunbathing nude and taking a dip in the pool."