She took his s.e.x pole deep into her mouth, covering the organ with her warm wetness and sucking him so deep into the back of her throat that she nearly choked.

Within half an hour, the young hooker was quite skilled at the art of "le b.l.o.w.j.o.b." Her teacher and client enjoyed the way she'd learned to run her tongue up and down his hard shaft and suck his male meat deep into her mouth. He also enjoyed the way she licked and sucked his Golden Orbs and ma.s.saged his s.e.x b.a.l.l.s while sucking his rod.

He held her head nice and tight to his groin as he felt the juice of his Golden Orbs begin to disgorge. "Take it all in your mouth now," he instructed, "and as my Orbs disgorge, suck and swallow the fluid into your body."

She did as instructed without even gagging, and yet there was so much fluid that some dripped from the corner of her mouth. After slowly removing the organ from her mouth once he was spent, she licked her lips, washing the remaining j.i.s.m away. That was just the first mouth-induced o.r.g.a.s.m of the night; Uncle Ma kept her oral cavity filled with his big d.i.c.k for a long time, turning the young newcomer to b.l.o.w.j.o.bs into a pro by the end of their time together.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

The first c.o.c.k's crow awakened him, and his eyes opened as just a sliver of dawn squeezed through a crack in the shutters of the room. He was so exhausted from his long walk from the station along the mountain road that he had forgotten completely about his guest for the night. When he became aware of the sensation of moist saliva against his Joy Stick, he thought it the residue of a dream. Then the rough flat of an energetic tongue rasped against the underside of his shaft and a pair of moist lips tightened on the base of his p.r.i.c.k, sucking so hard that all the juice was vacuumed out of his Golden Orbs in one masterful breath. "Ah, yes!" he moaned, coming to reality in almost total, uncaring, perfect pleasure. "That's right! Very good!"

His eyes finally clearing, he looked down at the young prost.i.tute who said, "This sucking maybe good business! Can charge a lot for it." On top of that, she was beginning to like the feel of hard c.o.c.k in her wet mouth. Not to mention the fact that she knew c.o.c.ksucking would save a lot of wear and tear on her Mystic Place.

"Don't stop when the going's good," yawned Uncle Ma. "Back to practice."

He was into his second hard-on when Mrs. Fu entered the room without knocking and observed the bobbing head of the girl locked between his thighs. She said, "You had to teach her that! Now she bankrupt all commune within one hundred mile of here! Hurry up and finish! Driver downstairs. Long ride to mountain!"

Before dressing, Uncle Ma took the girl's real name and address, as he had promised to send her some magazines. Then he went downstairs to the shop where a hearty northern breakfast of wheat cakes was already waiting for him. As he entered the small restaurant, a young man rose politely and asked, "Mr. Ma?"

Uncle Ma replied, "Yes! Are you going to drive?" The young man nodded. Uncle Ma then asked him, "What's your name?"

"Shan Fu!"

"Ah, Mrs. Fu's son!"

"No! Almost everybody around here is named Fu! We're probably related, but way back. Please!" He held out a chair for Uncle Ma and, as the older man seated himself, said, "You have to eat in hurry! It's long trip. Bad road!"

"One carton of cigarettes, right!" said Uncle Ma, hurriedly pouring himself a gla.s.s of hot tea.

"Sorry so expensive, but it's the commune's petrol and risky."

"Risky?" asked Uncle Ma. "Bandits?"

"Bandits!" laughed the young man.

"Don't tell me the Communists wiped them all out, too. I'm beginning to discover that things aren't as the State wishes them to be."

"The road's bad! Bandits? The Shar Yips took care of the bandits hundreds of years ago. They're not too partial to Communists either. Not many officials go up that way. The monks have a different way of looking at things and don't bother to argue." Shan Fu made a slicing movement across his throat with the blade of his hand.

"I suppose you've never seen one!"

"No one in this province has ever seen one!"

"But you a.s.sume that they are there?"

"They're there alright!"

"And," said Uncle Ma, "the distinct possibility exists that one is having breakfast with us at this very moment?"

"s.h.i.t!" said young man Fu. "They're rich! They get donations from all over the world. They eat better than anybody down here."

"Well, one may be sitting here, spying on us."

"They don't have to spy! They just have to be. They know everything already!"

"Really," said Uncle Ma. "This is turning into an interesting trip."

He spent five American dollars on the purchase of a beautiful fur-lined coat that Mrs. Fu found for him. Then he left his two-suiter in her care and joined the young man in the six-year-old Lada that was parked outside. The truck didn't look as if could get as far as the gate in the old town wall let alone a full fifty miles and back, but the vehicle's diesel engine sprung to life and they lurched forward on the first leg of their journey.

Uncle Ma was silent until they pa.s.sed out of Henan and onto a flatland planted solid with wheat and barley. "It's cold!" he finally observed, a chill running through his system.

"If you want to know what cold is like, come in the winter. We're used to it. It'll warm up when the sun gets higher. And don't worry, it's warmer where your going."

"Why?" asked Uncle Ma.

"Above the clouds!"

"That high? I thought it was only fifty miles or so!"

"Straight up!" said Shan Fu. He then asked, "Why are you going to see the monks? Your Joy Stick works!"

"Really! And how would you be aware of the fact?"

"Half the village was listening below your window as you pleasured yourself with Lian Pow last night."

"One would think they would have something better to do in this great Communist state."

"There wasn't anything good on television last night."

After a good, long laugh, Uncle Ma said, "The state of my Joy Stick is of interest to none but myself. I'm here on behalf of an aged relative. He thinks that the Shar Yips can do something with his Joy Stick! I think it's an old tale."

"The Shar Yips can give a corpse a hard-on."

"Then this road must be a well-beaten path! Everybody from your village must come up here to get their Golden Orbs refreshed!"

Shan Fu replied, "No one from the village comes this way. They're all afraid of the monks. They're afraid of their mystical powers and how they can be used."

"Even the old men with barely functional Joy Sticks?" asked Uncle Ma.

"The monks are testy. If you cross them, you're dead on the spot, or worse!"

"What's worse?"

"One of my neighbors cheated the Old Master once. He gave him an eternal erection."

"Come on!" laughed Uncle Ma.

"Nothing could get it down. The commune even sent him to Beijing to see a Western doctor. He came back, still erect as ever, unable to do anything but yank on it because, no matter how many women he had, he was never satisfied. He begged the Old Master to forgive him; he refused."

"What did he finally do?" asked Uncle Ma. "Cut it off?"

"Yes," replied Shan Fu, without cracking a smile. "It was quite a scandal."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"He still lives in the village!"

"d.i.c.kless?"

"No, the monks relented and sewed it back on."

"Really?"

"But it didn't work after that. No more come for him!"

The more Shan Fu regaled him with further tales of the powers of Shar Yips, the less Uncle Ma believed anything he said. Some of their feats were totally beyond belief. He was beginning to think that his long journey was a total waste and would just lead up to some smelly old beggar in a yellow robe.

The truck slowed as they pa.s.sed the last of the large, cultivated plots, and the road became a succession of potholes and washed away shoulders. It took them more than three hours to cover thirty more miles. "This is it," said Shan Fu, bringing the truck to a halt and getting out of the cab in almost one movement.

Uncle Ma asked, "Can't you get any closer?"

"The road narrows to a foot path around the next bend."

Uncle Ma climbed down from the cab of the vehicle to find the cold mountain air less than exhilarating. "How far do we have to walk?"

"You have to walk! I'm waiting here."

"Why?"

"If a Shar Yip comes to Henan, the whole population finds an excuse to remain indoors."

"Five hundred extra U.S. dollars for a little hike?" Uncle Ma offered, trying to coax Shan Fu into accompanying him.

"I'd rather keep my Joy Stick as it is, thank you!" said the young man.

"What if I made that a thousand?"

Shan Fu shook his head and closed his eyes. Uncle Ma said loudly, "You know it's all a myth?"

When his question wasn't answered he shrugged, and then said, "How far is it, anyway?"

"Five or ten miles."

"Five or ten miles? Haven't you ever been there?"

"No," yawned Shan Fu. "n.o.body from Henan has. Not for years."

"What about the neighbor who cut off his own Joy Stick?"

"He was the last!"

Uncle Ma demanded, "What if I get lost?"

"You can't get lost! There's only one path, and it goes straight up! If you find yourself in India, you've gone too far."

"Thank you," replied Uncle Ma, with more than just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He turned and started up the path. The young man called after him, "I'll wait! Mrs. Fu packed plenty of food."

Uncle Ma continued on alone, on foot, for what seemed like hours, comforted by the fact that the mountains weren't totally deserted. There were small terraced fields cut into its sides, and in all of them farmers, hard at work. But each time his footsteps brought him to what looked like the peak, he would discover that he had only reached the shoulder of another rise, and that a further height remained to be climbed ahead of him. It wasn't until he was too exhausted to continue and sat on a rock to catch his breath, that he realized the landscape had changed dramatically. Ahead of him, instead of the eroded cliffs and washes he had seen all morning, was a greenscape of young mountain pines, extending off into the distance. "s.h.i.t! It doesn't look like China at all," he thought. "Maybe I am in India." Quickly rid ding himself of that notion, he cursed himself for not having the forethought to bring a water bottle along. He was extremely thirsty and wondered if he dared drink from a mountain brook, knowing full well what the hill people used for fertilizer.

Forcing himself to his feet, he threw himself forward and his legs began their labor again. It took him close to an hour to reach the next rise, where he rested again. He was so exhausted that it took him some minutes to ascertain that he was not as alone as he thought. Echoing from the near distance was the happy laughter of a young girl. Looking down and to his right, he discovered a terrace, lushly planted with a variety of vegetables, and a young couple, hoes in hand, who were paying more attention to each other than their work. He called out, "h.e.l.lo!" and not sure that they heard him, waved vigorously.

The distant girl finally waved back. Shouting as loud as he could, he asked, "Where's the monastery?"

"What?" replied the girl.

"The Monastery with Three Entrances. Where is it?"

The girl turned to her companion, and after a bit of conversation, looked back up at Uncle Ma and shouted, "The same place it's been for the last thousand years!"

"Thank you!" yelled Uncle Ma. "That was very informative. Am I close?"

"Very close!" she replied with a giggle.

Uncle Ma said, "Thank you, b.i.t.c.h," under his breath and continued on his way upward. He didn't stop when he reached the next rise, but came to a dead halt as he started to descend its reverse slope. Before him was a hidden valley cut by a raging river that looked totally impa.s.sible. He couldn't proceed if he wanted to. The footpath he was on stopped at the edge of a sheer cliff some sixty feet ahead of him. "f.u.c.k Kee Djung Pau," he thought, as he turned back in the direction he came. As soon as he retraced his steps over the rise, he caught the glint of gold from the corner of his eye, and, looking down, he discovered the gilded roof of a paG.o.da. It was in the center of a fortress-like compound which was built into the wall of a cliff opposite where he had just rested. If the young couple hadn't distracted him, he would have noticed it earlier.

Cursing himself, he retraced his footsteps and discovered an even smaller footpath led up to what he a.s.sumed was the main entrance to the Monastery with Three Entrances. He followed it upward only to stop, frozen in place, by two huge statues guarding the way; they seemed to have just sprung up from of the foliage. Carved out of black stone, they depicted two ancient fighting monks in kung fu stance, one inhaling and the other exhaling, yin and yang, the very essence of life. Although Uncle Ma had seen many such figures, these drove fear into his very soul. Composing himself, he was about to continue on when his eyes drifted downward and he gasped. Each of the figures bore an enormous, fully erect Joy Stick between its legs. "That's a new one on me," thought Uncle Ma. "But now I see where everybody got the idea that Shar Yips have d.i.c.ks a yard long. Good advertising!"

There was such an air of foreboding, that he thought it better to call out, "h.e.l.lo! I'm here!" before proceeding one step further. His shout produced no results. Repeating his words even more loudly, he waited for a reply and received none. Gaining confidence, he walked boldly up to the ma.s.sive doors of the monastery. His knock on the broad oaken beams produced little sound, and it wasn't until he stepped back in puzzlement that he noticed the niche in the wall which held the ta.s.seled end of a rope; he made his way over to it and yanked. After a long wait, the throaty voice of a bronze bell somewhere deep inside the walls reached him. It repeated itself when he again pulled on the rope, but still no one appeared.

Uncle Ma stood there for many long minutes when the idea came into his mind to leave the money and the two letters at the monastery door and head back toward life as he knew it. But he rejected the idea and took a deep breath to help release his fear. He was somewhat awestricken by the two statues, and now was more curious about the monks than he ever was before. Suddenly getting the feeling he was being watched, he turned and had the distinct impression that the two stone warriors had eyes in backs of their heads. Then a sense of well-being swept over his body. Feeling better than he had in ages, he was about to return to the road to ask the young couple he saw to make sense of the situation for him, when he realized that he had a huge erection. That and the fact that his Joy Stick felt twice its size drove him down in the path in a state of confused haste, if not fright. His spearman had never jumped to attention in the cold light of day without provocation--not since he was in his teens.

Reaching the path, he found the boy and girl, hoes in hand, looking up at him with what appeared to be smiles on their faces. He sat on a rock to gather his thoughts and wait for the flush of youth between his legs to subside before deciding what to do next. Another half an hour pa.s.sed. Uncle Ma was still erect and still totally unsettled when he saw the figure of a man in his sixties approaching up the path. "Good!" he thought, "some dumb farmer that may know something."

As the stranger drew closer, Uncle Ma was surprised to discover that, far from being a hill person, he was dressed in Western clothes and carried a stack of foreign newspapers under his arm. Uncle Ma rose, stuck his hand in his pocket to adjust his Joy Stick so that it wasn't too noticeable, and called out, "h.e.l.lo! I wonder if you can help me, Sir?"

The approaching gentleman snapped crustily, "Don't try to talk Northwest! Standard New Mandarin! Your accent is terrible!" He stopped in front of Uncle Ma and glared at him. "Cantonese, right? Vietnam, right? I've never heard Northwest with a French accent before. Sounds disgusting. Are you educated, or did you make your money running a sweatshop?"

"The Sorbonne! I have a doctorate in economics."

"Economics, hey? Then you shouldn't be up here trying to get your d.i.c.k fixed. Get down to Beijing and straighten out the country. The economy is in a shambles."

"What are you doing up here, then?" asked Uncle Ma just as haughtily.