"Okay! Everybody up for the blind stargazing! Clear your minds and wipe your behinds! We're gonna commune with the Big Buffoon!"
Andrea shot bolt upright in her bed. "What the fuck's that?"
Sean rolled over and rubbed his eyes and searched the ceiling. "Sounds like a speaker… "
"Stars are far, so's your cigar, your sex organs are under par… "
"Momma." Sean pointed. "Up there. Behind the curtain. A speaker. Christ, the Guru's got himself wired into our bedroom!"
"You're damned right he does," cackled the speaker. "It's two-way. You can turn me off, though. The switch is on the wall behind the curtain. Then I can still call you but you don't call me. I mean I can't hear you. You turn yourself off. You don't turn me off. It's kind of a world allegory. Anyhow, you are celestially invited to get your buns up to the blind stargazing. Right now. Over, under, in, around and through, and out!"
By the time they got up on deck there was barely a space to be found between the blanket-wrapped bodies strewn over it. The Guru was up in a crow's nest just forward of them with spotlights from the bridge playing on him. They found a place by the port rail and stretched out just in time to hear his welcoming speech.
"People, persons, and other various varieties and typical types of humanity! You laid out a lot of bread for this cruise, so I hope you dig it. Are the accommodations cool?"
There were affirmative cheers from the passengers.
"Funky! Okay. So the first thing we're gonna do, which is right now and also tonight and probably even today, maybe part of tomorrow, possibly… time is so damned confusing. Anyhow, what we're gonna do is called by the name of blind stargazing, which is what it is. The idea goes something like this. Hum-dee-dum-dum, Hum-dee-dum-dum. But that's just the way the idea goes. You do something else. What you do is-if you're not too tired or pissed off or horny or anything… " There were titters from the crowd. "… now as I was braying, you go when I say go. And what go means is that you close your eyes. It's the perfect word because what you really do is stop looking. That makes it easy to remember. But what have you been looking at?
"The stars. Now everybody who isn't looking at the stars, look at the goddamned stars, because if you haven't started you can't stop. All you have to remember is that when I say 'go,' you stop. Before I say 'go'-and I didn't say it that time, I just mentioned it-I'm going to talk about some other cosmic shit.
"Now for the next three weeks we're gonna be a little cosmos here on this row boat, and every cosmos has got to have rules. That's a rule. So the first rule of this cosmos is that there are no rules. Now the second one is the one I mentioned before, about nobody being allowed to stop something before they've started it. You might think that that comes naturally but it doesn't. What it comes down to is that you're never allowed not to do anything. I think you'll find that a truly useless rule. And the last rule is that the first two are not cancelled every time they go into force except on the direct authority of no one. GO!"
Sean and Andrea, lying on their backs beside each other under a blanket, snorted and guffawed and closed their eyes. There were ripples of laughter through the crowd. The night air was balmy and tangy and pungent with the crusty smell of sea salt Sean remembered once when he'd been eighteen; he'd got a summer job on a freighter. What he remembered most was the flying fish that flew into his porthole and joined him in bed one night.
He reached out and grabbed Andrea's tit. Better than the flying fish. It made him horny. The Guru hadn't said what to do if you were too horny. Could you blind stargaze and fuck at the same time?
"Everybody remembered what 'go' means?" the Guru asked. "Good. Now you didn't know what you were supposed to be doing before you closed your eyes, which is a perfectly good explanation of why none of you did it. But then the secret of wisdom lies in knowing what you're supposed to be doing before you close your eyes. Be that as it may, you were supposed to be taking photographs of the stars. Fixing their positions. Putting them in their places. Getting the pattern. Remembering that the big fat white one is so far from the little green knobby one. Now since you didn't know what you were doing, right now you'll just have to make something up. When I say, 'stop', you open your eyes and compare what you've made up with what's up there. The object of the game is to get the whole thing, right? Memorize the heavens. Now the little buggers up there keep moving around, so that's going to make a pretty tough job harder. I'm going to say 'go' a lot of times. I'm also going to say-STOP! For instance, I just said it. Did everybody stop?"
There were mixed mumblings from the crowd. From very close to Sean and Andrea there was a sudden shifting under some blankets and a high-pitched female voice, half irritated, half playful, squealed, "Freddy, is that all you ever think of? We can do that any time. Now why don't you just try to do what the Guru tells you? You could use some enlightenment!"
Andrea mimicked the voice with a whisper into Sean's ear: "Sean, is that all you can ever think of? You can put your hand on my tit and squeeze my nipple any time…" Her breath was a little choked because halfway through her speech Sean gave her nipple an extra-lively little pinch.
"If I can squeeze your tit any time, I can squeeze it now," he intoned in a voice obviously meant to be loud enough for the nearby couple to hear.
"See?" complained a voice from the darkness. "They're doing it, why can't we? Besides, the guy's got logic on his side!"
"Well I don't let logic tell me when I want you in my pants," the squealing voice replied. "And it's not now. Shut up and try some blind stargazing. Maybe it'll do you some good."
The Guru's voice was droning on from above. "Man was not meant to conquer space. He was meant to appreciate it. That's what you've got here. A course in space appreciation. Forget about a bunch of robots with short haircuts playing golf on the moon. What does a hole in one mean to the Eternal Spirit of the Cosmos?"
Sean pushed his hand down along Andrea's stomach, below the hem of her dress, and then pulled back up, hooking a finger to catch her panties where they were smallest. He wiggled the finger inside and probed the thin mat of hot corn-silk for the feeling of wetness and the always-shocking presence of an aperture.
His finger slid in. Andrea shifted her body to receive it and ran a hand across his chest. "If a hole in one doesn't mean this"-Sean curled his finger-"to the Eternal Spirit of the Cosmos, it doesn't mean shit!"
"I'll tell you something," Andrea replied, trying at once to absorb the pleasurable feeling of Sean's fingers in her cunt and to catch the Guru's words and follow his instructions. "I don't want to sound like that blushing young couple from Flushing over there, but I'd sort of like to try out the Guru's thing. I mean, I've got these weird vibrations that there's something special about the guy. Now that doesn't mean I don't want you fingering me in the meantime…" She grabbed his hand and pressed it enthusiastically into her crotch to demonstrate her point "But I also want to try this thing." She paused and they listened to the Guru some more.
"The idea of the exercise is not to exercise. Americans, especially Western Hemisphere people, think too much about doing too much. They don't want to admit that the world's doing a lot more than they are, only it's taking its time. Now I ask you, according to the Theory of Relativity, isn't the speed of light taking its time? So you can afford to too. Toot-toot-tee-toot! And while you're doing it, consider if you will the distance between yourself and the nearest star. Scientists will tell you it's X million light years away, and they'll also tell you that a light year is a good long time. What does that all mean? That if you got in your car and packed a good healthy lunch and took off driving straight up, you'd have to find so many gas stations and make so many piss-stops before you burned your ass off approaching the Infernal Toll Booth of the nearest star.
"Now there's only one reason that we're living, and that's because our planet is not too close to the closest star and not too far either. So it follows that the best place for us to dig any star from is right here. Now if you put this together with the fact that actually seeing is a sense and so is touching, and seeing has to have something in common with touching, and touching has to be more basic because you can be alive if you can't see but not if you can't feel, you come up with the inevitable conclusion that the stars aren't really far away at all. They're right here as much as any fire's right here. And what fire is right here? The fire of life! Which is, after all, the viewpoint from which we are aware of the stars. So don't be thinking that you're trying to take pictures of the stars when they're some unknown zillion number of light years away! Just dig it that those little twinkling pin-points are as close to you, as you are, and introduce yourself to them. Get to know your way around up there as well as you know your way around your own living room. GO!"
Sean massaged Andrea's pussy gently and listened. He really had not intended to pay too much attention to the Guru and his shenanigans-he hadn't made up his mind yet whether the guy was foxy or nuts but he was just out to have a good time so he didn't care-but Joe and Andrea had suspicions that the guy might have something to say, and he respected them enough to see if he could, as the Guru himself put it, get past the bullshit.
He looked up at the stars, and the first thing that struck him was the absurdity of trying to memorize their patterns. Why, he could pick out just about any patch of blackness he wanted and if he looked hard enough he could find a star in it. Well, he didn't need the Guru Baalow Nee to tell him he was little compared to the size of the universe.
Or did he? Or was that the opposite of what the Guru meant?
Sean and Andrea spent the next hour opening and closing their eyes, getting patterns of stars down in their heads, and checking them against the patterns that were really there when the Guru told them to. They heard a few more squabbles from the couple nearby-who turned out to be just on the other side of a funnel-and they couldn't quite understand what the hassle was about, because they had no trouble-blind stargazing and groping each other to their mutual satisfaction at the same time. In fact the activities seemed to complement each other naturally. Contemplating the heavens induced a feeling of consummate mellowness that helped them relax and concentrate totally on the genital pleasures, without that familiar frenetic feeling that something had to happen right away, or pretty soon, or ever.
Sean fingered Andrea for a good half hour, and she took it not as a preparation for an imminent fuck, but as a thing in itself; a massage of the place that naturally appreciated massages most. She couldn't count the times she came, not because there were so many or so few, but because it was hard to tell whether the saturating feelings of complete well-being, the passive acceptances of the natural positive of pleasure, that flowed through her continuously like ocean waves, were really orgasms at all, and if they were, whether they were one or many. They were simply nothing like-or it was nothing like-starting at the beginning and going through all the stages of sexual arousal until at last one reached that definite and delirious moment of consummation; after which, having reached the mountain's peak, one slid precipitously down the other side into oblivion or sleep or the decision to go to the bathroom for a piss. It was a single interwoven fabric of ecstasy. Sort of like the single interwoven fabric of the heavens with its random concentrations of energy-the stars.
While Sean was on the giving end of this operation he found to his surprise that he could really go quite a lot farther than he'd imagined in memorizing the heavens. Some of the work, of course, had been done beforehand. He recognized many of the constellations that ancient astronomers had imagined in the shapes of men with clubs and three-star belts, big gravy ladles, animals; and of course there was always the cosmic candy bar. But beyond that he found he could take a wide view and make large patterns in the sky as a whole, and within them smaller ones, and more and more, until when the Guru ended one of his incoherent orations with a sudden "STOP!", Sean found the stars he'd placed on the insides of his eyelids stayed where they were after his eyes opened. He envisioned himself lying in bed sometime in the future, half asleep, getting a sudden glimpse of the sky that was so complete and so accurate that he couldn't know whether he was inside or out. Maybe the Guru really did have something going for him. Anyhow, it was a sure thing-he could feel it in the tips of his fingers as they rubbed over Andrea's clit and delved into her hole-that Andrea was somehow spellbound by Baalow Nee. It was strange. The more the sky made sense to Sean, the more the Guru's rambling speeches did.
When Andrea rolled onto her side and reached for his crotch, indicated that it was his turn to do nothing but enjoy, he suddenly realized that the contrast between the huge empty lifeless void overhead and the warm regularly breathing body next to him made it all seem more purely and completely sensual than it ever had before.
She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants and eased her cool fingers into his underwear. It all seemed too casual, yet so significant. He concentrated on not trying to get excited, not trying to call up images that would help his cock get stiff and ultimately produce a gusher of sperm, but on appreciating the physical contact itself for what it was; the stroking of fingers on a particularly sensitive muscle, the coaxing forth of nerve-impulses that were intrinsically positive.
He felt very close to Andrea. He suspected-he was almost sure-that because they were both engaged in concentration on the same external things-the stars-in the same way, their thoughts and reactions to their sexual activities would be almost identical. In fact he did not ask her. He didn't want to break the magic silence that had overcome the crowd on the ship's gently rolling deck. But in fact he was right
He was mesmerized. He felt his cock swelling of itself and oozing fluid in a slow, thick stream.
It seemed as if, under the continuous, relaxed ministrations of Andrea's fingers, the channels that normally burst open all at once for a brief instant of climax were opening slowly, regularly, and somehow staying open. He was maintaining that feeling that came with the usual rush of orgasm over many seconds, many minutes.
Andrea's educated fingers circled the tip of his cock. Her whole hand wrapped around it and stroked softly, lazily down. She ran her fingertips down over the hairy sack of his balls to his asshole, let them play there for a second, and then sent them on a return journey. She pressed her thumb to the underside of the tip and jiggled it up and down against the slimy flesh. It was simply and totally delicious.
"Okay, you freaks!" the Guru screeched, breaking the mood like you'd break a match stick, "time for the next ditty, which consists of making yourselves look as ridiculous as you are. Now that's damned near impossible, but I'm sure you'll all try your best. I think you'll agree that J look just about as ridiculous as I am-certainly much more ridiculous than any of you-but that doesn't exempt me from the doings, which I'm going to do too. Doo-too-tee-doo."
Banks of colored spotlights flashed on and bathed the deck in mottled patches of red and purple and green and orange and blue and yellow. People rubbed their eyes and sat up. The blushing young couple from Flushing stood up and Sean and Andrea got a look at them. The girl was perhaps twenty, with a slender, slightly sway-backed figure and a pretty, innocent-looking face framed by a pixie haircut. She wasn't much taller than five-three but her legs, encased in tightly-fitting faded jeans, were exceptionally long. Her husband, was baby-faced behind his wire-rimmed glasses, shy in manner, about six feet tall, slender, with a carefully groomed head of dirty-blond collar-length hair. As they turned to watch the Guru descending from his crow's nest on a scary-looking metal ladder she poked him and whispered loudly, "I don't know whether I'm going to like this, whatever it is."
From then on things moved with the speed of light. Mei Ling and the black woman who'd been with her at Folk City supervised the distribution of countless pots of finger-paint of every imaginable color. The Guru's professional wrestler-types circulated through the crowd placing ash-cans full of beer on ice everywhere. Sean, and Andrea made the acquaintance of Mindy and Josh Rudolph, 20 and 22 respectively, of Main Street, Flushing, and together they listened to the Guru's final speech of the night, which he delivered from a podium in front of the swimming pool.
"I take it you have all grasped the idea of the essence of the essence of the idea, which is related to the paint. Also to your bodies, onto which the paint is to be applied by anyone who happens to come by and apply it. Now anybody who came on this cruise to get rid of hangups that might be hanging them up right now should do something about it, which would consist of either running for cover or standing around watching-until you get nailed anyhow-or painting a picture of the aforementioned hangups on someone else's body. The last is naturally the best, because it ties in with the ridiculousness of the human condition and therefore completely to be sneezed at. But if you think you'd blow your nose trying to force the issue, then go back to your cabin and wait for the horse that comes before the cart, which will be the systematic un-hanging sessions starting tomorrow. Tonight it's assumed that we're out here on a boat all by ourselves with no mommy or daddy or cop or priest or president and we're in a democracy here, which means that everyone's just as silly and bent out of shape as everyone else. The trick is to make out that you're sillier than anyone else. You might look on it as an act. It's not the real you that's getting your dork painted purple with green polka-dots, it's just some actor in a play that you happen to be playing the part of that actor in. Now that's all gratuitous assumption, but of course what isn't in the long run, so the idea is to make the long run short and vice versa. Get it?" He finished his oration by pouring a pot of chartreuse paint over his head and doing a back-flip into the swimming pool.
About half the people on the deck-mostly older ones-ran for cover.
Joints began circulating through the remainder from some unknown source.
Mei Ling and the black woman started tearing off each other's clothes. Virginia Vagina and the Princess appeared with their cohorts and streaked through the crowd, naked tits flopping, buns jouncing, whooping and screeching and mooning people and getting paint sloshed on their asses for their trouble.
Mindy Rudolph tried to break away and get to her cabin but her husband wasn't having any of it. He doused her with a bucket of lemon-yellow and started tickling her.
Joanna and Andrea fell on Sean and in a second he was naked, thrashing around while they tried to paint his dick purple with green polka-dots. John stuffed a cigar-sized joint into his mouth and he quieted down. Joe Lee, who'd disappeared for a while, returned in the company of an Amazon they'd seen earlier in a pair of pink hot-pants and matching halter. She was gorgeous, stacked, but also about six-two. Joe set her on John. She picked him up from behind and held him while Joe, with the help of a bleached-blonde middle-aged lady who appeared from nowhere dressed in what looked like three layers of mauve saran wrap, depantsed him. The lady promptly divested herself of what there was of her outfit and sat on John's face. He had a quick snack while she painted dainty little circles around his navel. Virginia Vagina pranced up and sat down on his dick, amusing herself by dabbing little flower-like blotches on the middle aged lady's long, swinging tits as she humped.
The wide-eyed young poet who'd thought his verse sounded like Walt Whitman's came upon their party while wandering through the crowd in search of sex. He timidly began unbuttoning Andrea's blouse as she and Joanna put the finishing touches on Sean's dick. Andrea noticed him and stuck out her tongue. He staggered back and she leapt up at him. She wrestled him to the deck, ripped off her blouse, and stuck a tit in his mouth. He lay there sucking in ecstatic bewilderment while Joanna relieved him of his clothing. "What's say?" she asked. "Want to do this one yellow with red polka-dots?"
Mindy Rudolph, half laughing and half crying and generally confused, fought her husband as he tore at her blouse and yelled, "It was your idea to come on this cruise, not mine, so why don't you just do what the Guru says? You could use some enlightenment!" Sean watched with some interest as Josh succeeded in getting her blouse off and freeing her pertly upswept breasts. They bobbled high on her chest as she fought for breath and tried to cover them.
"I want to go back to the cabin!" she shouted. "I want to… "
Suddenly she stopped and stared up toward the bow. The Guru was winding his way toward her, traces of chartreuse paint in his hair. He was good and naked, and someone had painted fuzzy brown fishes and scaly-looking golden bears on his chest and thighs. His lower legs, from the toe-tips to the calves, were painted to look as if he was wearing a gaudy pair of unmatched knee socks, one blue and silver, the other orange and black.
Josh let Mindy go and she just sat numbly clutching the remnants of her blouse to her chest. The Guru affected a hesitation-step and drew up before her. He frowned contemplatively. "I have sensed a number of unserene vibrations coming from this area." He took no notice of John, whose head was still wedged between the middle-aged lady's ass cheeks and whose dick was still the sole possession of Virginia Vagina, nor of any of the others. Mindy was too stunned to do anything.
"I see," the Guru intoned with dignity, "that you think you do not want to expose yourself at this little… tea party, and yet you also think you do. But you think that you should think that you don't. This is what we call a conflict, which is resolved in the following manner. Watch closely." He stuck his right hand into a nearby pot of shocking pink, grabbed his ear-lobe with it, drew his left hand up into his left armpit and began flapping like a chicken. He hopped around pulling his ear lobe. "Squalk! Bawk bawk bawk! Heebie-jeebie fartstorm! Bawk bawk!"
Mindy couldn't help herself. Nobody could. She burst out laughing. Gales of laughter swept across the deck like waves in a high storm.
"There's one more thing," the Guru said. He stopped abruptly and walked over to her. He dipped his dick into the shocking pink, relieved her of what was left of her blouse, placed her hands at her sides, and contemplated her breasts as she sat star-struck before him. "You will notice the paintbrush's only bristle stiffening as the artist contemplates your tits." His cock jumped to attention. "Now. What is needed is a circle here… " He grabbed his cock and drew a circle around her right nipple. "And a square here." The square around the left nipple was a little lop-sided but that didn't bother him. "In a few seconds, these configurations will cause your nipples to become erect." He started to turn away, then changed his mind. "Aha! You see? It's happening already." Mindy's nipples were puffing up to huge buds that reddened visibly. "That indicates that more action is to be taken."
John stood gaping at his usually retiring wife as the Guru pulled her to her feet. She was in some kind of trance, staring into the Guru's eyes, her face expressionless but for the traces of a tiny smile at the corners of her cupid's-bow mouth.
There was no doubt about it. The Guru exuded some kind of intangible magnetism that put Mindy completely under his power. The others felt it too. Joanna and Andrea got up off Sean and they gathered around to watch. A circle formed around Mindy and the Guru as he delicately unfastened her belt and slowly drew her jeans down. She looked comatose but remained standing.
"You have quite a beautiful stomach," the Guru commented as the cloth of the jeans pulled down across it. "Nicely placed hip-bones. Mmmmm. Very attractive pubic hair. Chestnut-brown. I'm partial to shiny chestnut-brown pubic hair." His cock was jumping up and down between his legs like a Mexican jumping bean as he squatted. "Long legs. I like long legs too." He peeked up between them. "I see that the gates to your womanhood are creaking open." He moved her legs apart as one would adjust a manikin in a store window. "Excellent. The internal fountains are flowing with the sacred juices of excitation." He took a swipe up her slit with his finger and licked it. "Fantastic. Better than a cherry coke."
He lifted her legs one at a time to get her pants free of them. He stood up and walked around her several times. "I must say you do not look ridiculous. But no matter. That can come later. In fact it will, because I am about to rub some paint off on you." He turned to the crowd. "Look at that ass. Now that is truly fine. The slight curvature of the backbone has the altogether pleasing effect of raising the buttocks slightly and making the interior regions accessible from the rear." He turned to Josh. "You are her husband?"
Josh took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt, put them back on again, and stared from Baalow Nee to his wife and back again. "Yeah," he said uncertainly.
"Excellent. You will enter her via the anus as I enter her via the vagina." He looked around and spotted Sean, Joe, and John. "You three will see to various other aspects-supporting her, sucking her nipples, tonguing her ears, and so on."
"But she can't take it in the… uh… anus," John protested. "We've tried it… "
The Guru looked at him reprovingly. "You'll see." He regarded Mindy closely. "She is not in the totally receptive condition. Her insides are as open as all of space." He looked up at the stars. "Let us proceed."
He stepped up to her, motioned the others to join him, and spread his arms out straight to the side. He crouched and, with a series of little bird-like hops, brought his rod-medium-sized, no more, no less-up toward her hole from beneath. It seemed to coil and strike like a snake, to make its own way, to push her pussy open more surely than a pair of fingers.
John had his clothes off and he was looking around at the crowd. How the hell had he ever ended up in a gangbang of his own wife? But she seemed… well, he didn't know how she seemed. Hypnotized?
"If you all watch closely, you will see an incredible thing happen," the Guru announced. "I can tell that the Hungry Snap is coming." He broke down and giggled. "It's something like a Ginger Snap, only it eats instead of being eaten." He regained his composure. "Now watch. This is a rare phenomenon. It only happens once every few years on the whole face of the globe. There are certain astro-psychological preconditions… "
His cock leapt out and pecked at her clit once, twice, three times… and then her hips started to sway. With each peck of his rod her cunt drew back as though trying to avoid it-Just far enough for it to fall across her clit. The undulations became longer. It was as though she was winding up for something.
"It is an allegory of the battle between the cobra and the mongoose," the Guru commented. An edge of excitement came into his voice. "Now… watch… it's coming… "
His cock leapt forward and suddenly instead of pulling back Mindy's cunt shot open like a huge, hungry pair of jaws and pounced. It gobbled his cock whole with a single Hungry Snap. It clamped down and her insides sucked. She went into a frenzy.
"Grab her! Grab her!" the Guru laughed as she thrashed and tugged and slammed into him, almost throwing them both to the deck.
Sean and John and Joe seized her arms. With their support her unconscious worries about keeping her balance fled and her feet left the ground. Her legs twined around the Guru's waist and she was off and humping.
Sean bent her torso back and fastened his mouth on one of her breasts. Joe took the other and John massaged her head and stuck his fingers into her mouth and ears. Josh, standing behind her, was amazed to see her ordinarily tight and impenetrable pink asshole sucking in and pushing out, gaping open as though it was as hungry as her cunt. He was so amazed that he didn't have a hard-on handy.
Andrea and Joanna spotted the emergency immediately. They rushed like a couple of trainers to his side and went to work, licking, sucking and massaging his member to erection, shouting "Okay, champ, get in there and go for the knockout!" They pushed him forward and he stumbled into Mindy's rear-end. The Hungry Snap struck again and his shaft was far up her ass, rubbing against the Guru's insanely gyrating member through the thin membrane that separated the two channels.
"Great program on Channel One," the Guru yelled to him. "How's Channel Two?"
I'm… just… getting… it… tuned… IN!" Josh gasped, and let go with everything he had.
"Baaaaaaaaaaaaaatooie!" the Guru squealed, and got off himself. "Just feel that mongoose eat!"
Mindy's eyes were wide open and had she not been thrashing and grunting and speaking in tongues, wrenching her hips around and shoving her pelvis forward and her ass back, galloping like a jockey for the BIG FINISH LINE, one would have worried that she was dead. There just looked as if nobody was home behind her eyes.
While the Guru and Josh were coming her movement suddenly stopped for a split-second and then began in undulations so slow and so subtle that they were barely perceptible. She was in a perfectly pacific state of orgasm that seemed to her to last forever.
It was several minutes before the Guru felt her forehead, took her pulse, and announced, "She's coming out of it now. We should put her down."
Somebody brought a blanket and they laid her on it.
As soon as they took their hands off her she blinked a few times, looked around her and down at her paint smeared nakedness, rubbed her gooey crotch, and smiled. "Gee," she said, "that was fun. When do we do it again?"