I spent the last summer hanging out in the woods about 30 miles north of Nevada City, and let me tell you folks, the woods are just full of freeks. They're everywhere. They’re by the rivers, on the mountains, in the trees. Why you can't hardly go anywhere without stepping on one, or two, or a whole shitload of them running around half naked and wild looking to party. It was really great with everyone living off of food stamps, welfare or unemployment and smoking all the grass there was to be had. Some of which they had even grown themselves.
I had two favorite places hanging out with the other freeks especially when it was hot. The first was called Monkey Island. It was easy to get to, just a quarter mile off the main road on Oregon Creek. It was always crowded and it had about a dozen full time residents. It did look just like the monkey island’s you see at the zoos too, especially when there were 50 or 60 naked hairy hippies sunning themselves on the rocks that led down to the creek. The creek itself was the main attraction. It wandered through rocks creating gorges, waterfalls and whirlpools and even on hot sunny days it stayed cold and invigorating.
One of the bitchenest things there was a big hollow rock right in the middle of one of the deepest whirlpools, but you couldn't see it was hollow from the outside. The entrance was under the water. Whenever someone new showed up, you'd show them around. Here try this whirlpool. It's wonderful. They'd agree. Then you'd bet them a beer, a buck or a joint that you could hold your breath for three minutes underwater. Most of the time they’d say, “Okay show me.”
You'd duck down under the water, go into the bolder and come up inside of it then wait. Now, there were small peepholes in the bolder too so you could watch your victims reaction. After a minute or so they'd start getting concerned and start feeling around for you.
Anyone else there who knew about the boulder would say, "What's the matter. Lose something?"
The victim would say something like, "There's a guy down here holding his breath, but I can't seem to find him. "
The other freeks would then join in, "You sure he's not there?" “Oh no! We’ve lost people there before.” “I hope he ain’t drown.”
The victim would get real concerned feeling around some more. After you thought the victim had had enough you'd go back through the hole, come up out of the whirlpool then say, "Was that long enough?"
The victim was always glad to see you. After the sucker paid off, you'd show him how the boulder worked so he could play it on someone else new when they showed up.
My other favorite place was called Mushroom Hole on the American River and it was never crowded because it was so far off the main road. On weekdays you’d have it all to yourself. On weekends maybe a half dozen other folks might show up. There were no permanent residents.
To get there wasn’t easy either. First, after going for miles on a paved road, you had to go another few miles on a gravel road which then turned to dirt. The last half-mile was more like a dirt track and was so steep that unless you had a really good 4-wheel drive, you had to walk. Going down wasn't bad, but coming back up was killer especially after a long hard day of partying. Why it was called Mushroom Hole I don't know, no mushrooms grew around there and the swimming hole wasn't mushroom shaped. There was though, a very deep large pool with a 60 foot shear cliff raising straight above it that you could, if you had the balls, climb to the top of and jump off. It was quite a thrill especially head first, especially high on acid. Upstream from the hole was a large flat topped granite rock sitting right in the middle of the river. A favorite sunning spot.
One day while I was laying nude on that rock on my belly I heard a sweet female voice say, "I Love You."
I looked around figuring one of the girls was teasing me, but no one was around that I could see so I put my head back down and continued sunning. After a few more minutes I heard the voice again, "I Love You."
This time I thought I’d just ignore it because, man o man, the blazing sun sure felt good on my back and that hot rock felt real good on my front.
Then I heard it again, "I Love You. Won't You Love Me? Love Me...Love Me...Love Me..."
At the same time the rock started getting rubbery and softer, and felt like it was engulfing me. I started pressing into the rock because it felt so very good. The harder I pressed, the softer it got and the deeper I sank into it until it became almost fleshy. All the time I'm hearing, "Love Me... Love Me... Love Me..."
It's feeling really good now and I start responding, getting hard and pressing into it harder. Then it felt really great! And oh my, what's this? Ohhh-Ahhh, I’m having a very pleasant orgasm.
After it was over I opened my eyes, and there I was lying on that flat rock in the middle of the cool river under the hot shining sun. ‘Very nice’ I though, ‘but I’d better jump into the river and wash off.’
When I sat up I was expecting to be wet and sticky, but there was nothing, no cum. I was bone dry. I looked at the rock and it too was dry, no jism.
'Wow!' I though, 'How could this be? I know I had an orgasm.' Just then I heard that sweet feminine voice laugh and say, "Nature is never wasteful.”