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There were four of us in the car. Me, Steffie, Susan, and Sally. Mebeing Steve made up the last part of the four S's. We had been friendssince high school and all went to the same college together, and now wewere headed out to my first music festival. The other three S's had beenbefore, but I always had some other obligation which prevented me fromgoing. But this year I was finally free, and we had picked up some acidjust for the occasion. That I had some experience with.It was about a four hour drive out to the festival site and we had leftfairly early to get a good spot to set up our little base camp. We drovedown in Susan's car, a beat up and half rusted old VW bus that took herforever to save up for. Susan was the real hippie of the group. She hadlong dirty blonde hair and smelled like incense. Steffie and Sally weremore party girls and along for the ride. And I was the only guy,although that often seemed to be the case. Not that I thought anythingof it.We parked the bus, which. At the reception you'll notice two ways to go, with signs above both doors written in Arabic and English. One says 'Muslim Men', the other reads 'Non Muslims'. I peeked in the muslim side and saw numerous massage tables, with no privacy, and naked guys lying on some with towels covering their asses. They were getting rubbed by shirtless, hairy guys. Not very inviting. The other door led to a smaller reception with a lady behind the counter in a full head-to-toe black veil. She opened the door behind her and ushered me through without a word. There was one massage table in a small, nicely decorated and perfumed room. She said, "Strip," and left the room. I took off my clothes and lay down on the table, face down, with a towel over me. She re-entered, grabbed some oil off a shelf and began the massage. I cycle competitively, so I am fit and muscular, but if she noticed this, she gave no sign. She rubbed my neck, my back, my feet, my legs, and then my ass. She put her hand between.
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