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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
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Chapter Eighteen
A chubby-cheeked moon was already overhead when we arrived.
Its plumpness reminded me of my bottom. All around us the sere
landscape was illuminated by its light. There was nothing for miles.
Just cacti, standing bold and prickly, casting long moonlit shadows
across the sand. And the errant tumbleweed, pausing in its never-
ending journey across the Mexican desert. Julie and I stepped from her
car and followed a narrow path up to the brightly lit hacienda.
On the jet back toward home I'd worn an exquisitely sexy outfit.
A black, above-the-knee skirt hugged my hips. A tight little top,
matching the skirt, clung to my breasts and torso. It had no sleeves,
and a very low neckline. A matching hat completed my outfit, plus
heels. Beneath I wore only panties, no bra.
On the plane I sat next to a Spanish gentleman, who took a great
interest in my outfit. I think what intrigued him most was that the
upper halves of my areolas peeped continuously out of my decollete top.
We were in first class, otherwise I would never have worn such a
naughty outfit. The whole trip he kept waiting, with baited breath, for
my nipples to pop out entirely. But they never quite did, although I
almost lost them a few times, when I moved abruptly.
Julie sat across from him, on the other side of the aisle. Not as
provocatively dressed as me, she did, nonetheless, catch his eye.
I wasn't out to attract any man in particular. I just felt
exuberant and wanted to "push the limits" with my attire. Turn a few
married men's heads and annoy their stuffy wives. Helga, though,
intercepted the Spanish gentleman in the kitchen area at the back of
first class. She was intent on arranging something profitable with him.
"Oh, are you with them?" I heard the gentleman say to her, before
their voices lowered. When we landed and disembarked she reported
happily to us that we'd been invited to a party at the gentleman's.
"Really, Helga, you must simply get over the idea that our bodies
are for sale," Julie demurred. I agreed.
"Not for sale, darlings, such a nasty way to put it," Helga
countered. "Available, to only the finest gentlemen, in the plushest of
surroundings. Really, I cannot see how you can refuse. He's agreed to
pay our way through to Mexico, and put us up in a fine hotel that will be
entirely of our choosing. And heÕs given us a week's spending money.
All for your attendance for one night at a party at his hacienda. He was
most impressed with your beauty."
"I'll say!" Julie gasped, adding up all the ÒchargesÓ in her head. I
could see that already she was softening to the idea.
"It might be fun," Helga offered with a knowing smile.
"Wealthy, hot-blooded Spanish gentry," I said, turning over each
word with my tongue, finding myself wanting to suck upon them.
"Helga, I wish you wouldn't go out of your way to meet men for
us!" Julie said, turning to her abruptly. She was flushed, flustered. She
was caving in.
And so it was with a delicate knock that Julie and I made known
our presence at the hacienda. Helga was not with us. The arrangement
had been made for only Julie and I.
A chill desert breeze pricked at our skin. We waited. A coyote
howled in the distance. Then, opening the door slowly, a stooped-over,
elderly Mexican woman let us in. She regarded us. Then she beckoned
us forward to a room where men were laughing. Opening the door to the
room she urged us inside. We stepped in.
Half a dozen men smiled as they saw us, welcomed us with eager
gentility. They occupied a large room with sumptuous divans and
ottomans, complete with a wet bar. A young Spanish girl in an
abbreviated maid's costume stood at the bar, dutifully mixing drinks,
her head bowed submissively. Heavy drapes, richly embroidered, were
drawn shut against the desert night, against the bright high-flying
moon.
Fresh drinks were passed to us from the bar and we graciously
accepted them from the nearest men. Our suitor on the airplane
introduced us, by our first names only. Julie and I were all dolled up in
clinging, low cut gowns that shimmered with our every movement.
After we'd met each of the men our host, named Alex, asked us if we
were ready to party. We said we were. With polished grace Julie
turned and unzipped my dress in back. I wiggled and it glimmered its
way down my body, pooling around my ankles on the plush carpet. I
stepped out of the $2,000 gown as if from discarded Jockey shorts.
Then I turned and did Julie. A moment later we stood before the men,
and they were most delighted with our party clothes.
I wore a pink corset. The edges were trimmed with ribbon and
little pink bows. It was laced in front, very tightly. Cupping my
breasts, it just covered my nipples, leaving the tops of my areolas
enchantingly visible. The constricting corset descended to just above
the wisps of my pubis, which it left uncovered. It was shorter behind
and left my bottom completely free. Cinched so tightly about my waist,
the corset actually made my bare bottom stick out like some overripe
pumpkin. Alex expressed an interest in the effect and I turned about to
let him see.
"Ah, that is why I love seeing women in difficult clothing," he
said admiringly. "You girls would never wear such outfits if it weren't
for us men wanting them, would you?"
"Not likely," Julie said. Her voice came breathily. She was
cinched as tight as a drum. Her corset could not quite contain her
womanly bosoms. The upper halves of her areolas along with her
pointed nipples overflowed the top, where tightly drawn cups of thin
lace had been forced to give way to them.
Garters clung snugly to a pair of long semi-sheer stockings that
sheathed my legs, right down to my booties with their decorative
buckles. My stockings were pink, the booties white patent leather.
Julie was similarly attired, in colors of violet and blue.
"Sir," Julie said expectantly. "As you can see we have no panties.
You promised you'd give us something upon our arrival?"
"Ah, yes!" Alex replied. He presented us each with a color-
coordinated G-string. Daintily I stepped into mine, as did Julie with
hers. I pulled it up around my hips and looked down at it. Rope-like it
dropped in front over my mound, utterly failing to cover it. Threading
through the lips of my cunt it ascended through the clenching of my
bottom crack to rejoin my string-wide waistband in back. There was
nothing more. Yet I found that I could spread it open slightly with my
finger tips where it crossed through my cunt, forming a little gusset of
sorts that just barely enclasped my labia lips within it.
"Yes, that will form your diaper," Alex told me.
"My-my diaper?!" I asked, shocked. Julie had just covered her own
cunt with the makeshift gusset and looked up in alarm as well.
"Did you not know?" Alex asked us. "We have only one bathroom,
right over there, and it is unfortunately a men's room. You girls will
have to wear diapers...little adult diapers that suit your attire." He
glanced meaningfully at our G-strings. "However, there is the matter
of your bowels. Adult diapers like you are wearing now cannot hold
back a bowel movement. Therefore each of you will be fitted with a
butt-plug prior to partying with us men this evening. Did you know that
having something inside your rectum while you are being fucked in the
pussy adds immeasurably to your pleasure, and that of your lover? A
sidelight I thought I'd mention." He produced two well-greased butt
plugs, thin but rather longish. "Kindly bend over and pull down your G-
strings in back, girls. I must get these up you before we can begin
partying in earnest."
With very great reluctance Julie and I drew down our G-strings in
back, hooking them under the cheeks of our bottoms. Then the men led
us to the nearest settee, of bright red and yellow fabric, and pushed us
over its back, so that we were standing on our tiptoes. Gasping within
the confines of my corset, my elbows found the seat cushions in the
front of the sofa and gratefully rested upon them. My hair fell about my
face. Julie's head plopped down beside mine.
My legs were roughly separated, into a bold vee. I turned my toes
inward, desperately trying to keep them in contact with the floor.
Julie's legs were opened next. Speaking gentle words to us, Alex had
men forcefully spread our bottoms. I felt the cool air of the room touch
my anus. Beneath me I noticed that my nipples had popped out of my
corset. I was like Julie now. Nothing remained hidden, save my lately
covered labia...in my diaper.
A cold film was applied around the ring of my anus. It grew warm
as the finger applying it circled, lovingly. Then the tip of a tube was
gently inserted within me there and a long ejaculation of creme shot up
my ass. I mewled in protest at the unwanted anointing. My bowels did
not wish to be baptized. The tip went to Julie next, she shared in my
plight.
I felt the intruder then. Snub nosed, of india rubber, probing
expectantly against the tightness of my anal ring.
"Oooch!" I said suddenly, and my cherry was popped, my ring
opened anew. Julie cried out as her own bottom was breached.
We were told to pull up our panties then...our diapers. Reaching
back, still over the couch, I yanked up my G-string. Julie was equally
happy to get hers up. I stood with difficulty, the men helping me. Bow-
leggedly I regarded the new sensation in my innards. My guts were well
plugged, my anus distended, bottom cheeks moulded about their
intrusive new friend. Julie stood gaping, looking from one man to the
next. We were given fresh drinks and told to swallow all.
"Bottoms up, girls," Alex said of our glasses. "I'm having the
liquor content cut back so you can enjoy yourselves without getting
sleepy. Please drink as much as you can! And now I think a relaxing
game of shuffleboard would be in order after our strenuous
preliminaries. Gentlemen, ladies?"
A curtain was drawn back, revealing a narrow space with a
shuffleboard painted on a polished wooden floor. Julie and I were
invited to go first, competing against one another. The winner would
play against a male guest, we were told. The loser would have her
fanny smacked.
Spraddle-legged and huffing in our corsets, Julie and I played
shuffleboard. Julie lost, and was promptly put over Alex's knee and
given a dozen "well deserved" slaps on her rump. It was blushingly red
when he finally let her stand up. She rubbed it briskly.
I soon lost to a male guest and he gave me a spanking just as
Julie had suffered. Red-bottomed, we were now ordered to play
hopscotch. A slab of cement was revealed behind another curtained
wall, complete with a stone and chalk. Bending down, nearly crushing
our tummies in our corsets, we were forced to draw out a hopscotch
pattern on the cold slab. Our bosoms burst completely from the
confines of our corsets as we worked. They jiggled merrily, oblivious
to our torment, happy to be free.
We played out two rounds of hopscotch, and were spanked
afterward for our errors. Then more drinks were served and we were
urged to indulge ourselves on snacks which the Spanish girl brought
around on a silver tray. "Keep your energy up, you know," Alex reminded
us. We stood munching on cheese-laden celery sticks and bits of
toothpick-speared beef as the men chatted amiably around us. This was
definitely not a party I'd seen the likes of before.
Alex reached out and touched a finger between my legs, which I'd
been bidden to always keep at least a foot apart. I felt a tingle of
pleasure as he rubbed my gusset-covered cunny. "Still dry, I see," he
observed. Simultaneously he felt Julie. Then he ordered more drinks
for us and waited while we swallowed down every drop.
"Good girl," the Spanish lass said to me when I was done, patting
my bottom. She took my glass. Then she complimented Julie in the
same way and took her empty glass also. She sashayed back to the bar,
her bottom peeping out from under a very short leather skirt.
"You'll get to know her better later," Alex assured us. "Her name
is Ophelia. She's very loyal. My best maid."
The party progressed next through a series of card games, played
around a low coffee table. Julie and I were allowed to sit on a sofa like
the other guests, but we were made to keep our knees wide apart.
Occasionally Alex reached over and felt our gussets. Slowly a need to
pee began building within me and I found it harder and harder to keep
my legs spread. Alex told me he'd introduce my ass to the riding crop if
I put my legs together.
More and more, as the card game idled along, this time being a
long version of bridge, I burned to pee. Julie dropped her hand at one
point and pleaded to go to the bathroom. She was denied. I put a hand
to my pussy and squeezed it. No relief. Julie did the same. Within
minutes we were sitting there, before half a dozen strange men, with
our thighs compressed tightly together and our fingers mashing our
cunts. Our eyes bulged, our cheeks were puffed. We squirmed like
toddlers.
"Tsk! Tsk! Such an expensive couch you girls are sitting on, you
know," Alex observed. "I hope I've given you big enough diapers. That's
Ophelia's favorite couch and she'd be quite upset if you emptied your
bladders on it." Julie and I grimaced. I squeezed my eyes shut, opened
them.
With a sudden realization I noticed my g-string was no longer dry.
The spot on the couch where my fanny rested wasn't dry either. In
shock I looked down and found myself peeing! My body had taken over,
taken its own course. I tried to stop the flow but it came out lustily, a
full bladder behind it, urging it on through my peehole. Julie gasped and
looked down at herself. Spurred by my example, her body had followed
my lead. Squishing our pussies with our fingertips we tried to hold
back the flow, failed. We gazed at Alex's stern demeanor with bleak
eyes.
Alex ordered the men to remove all of their clothing. He told us
to "sit tight." I watched in wonder as the group of dark, handsome men
stripped themselves to their skin. They sat around us with their cocks
and balls casually displayed. They complimented one another on their
attributes.
Ophelia entered the room. Her maid's costume was gone and she
was utterly nude. Her only adornment was a riding crop, which she held
lightly in her hand, between her lovely young breasts. It pointed stiffly
up at her face and she toyed with its loop with her tongue.
"Sir," she lisped over the leather tip of the crop to Alex. "I'm
ready for my punishment." With small, almost tentative steps, yet
exuding a kind of erotic confidence, she advanced with her wicked toy
into the midst of the men. She was young, frail, a twig of a girl, yet
with superb bosoms. Except for her lightly olive-colored skin she
reminded me very much of myself. I who sat wet, shuddering, and
frightened upon the couch, vainly trying to cover myself with my hands.
The men sat admiring Ophelia for a bit as she stood meekly before
them, holding the instrument of her bottom's impending demise. I
admired her cheeks from behind. They were white, flawless, two
shades lighter than the rest of her, and completely unmarked.
They clenched together, then eased, then squeezed themselves together
again, sweet round moons glowing softly. The men stood. They formed
a semi-circle about her of honed, hairy, in-the-buff brawn. Yet they
still merely regarded her, perhaps unsure of who was entitled to her
first.
Olivia did not look at the men's faces but rather surveyed the
thicket of penises which surrounded her. She seemed to examine each
one with her gaze, evaluate it, judge it? Was she prey or predator?
The men converged more closely upon her. Stiffly they presented their
cocks, their manhood, many idly thrusting them at her. Olivia placed a
finger lightly upon the head of one, stilling it. She lifted her eyes to
the man's face, silently seemed to say, "Settle down, boy, we have all
night ahead of us."
"Please introduce your lovely pussy to each man's cock," Alex told
his maid. Smilingly Ophelia presented her slim hips to the closest man,
who grasped them hungrily. He lofted her up until she was on her tip-
toes, then settled her tight lips onto the bulging head of his organ.
Ophelia gasped as it slipped within her. Yet the man was limited, Alex
said, to giving her the head only. Fortunately no one had greased up yet,
so there was plenty of natural friction present to slow the entry. The
man gripped Ophelia, holding her up, even as she went slack, pretended
to swoon. She dangled her hands behind her, as if to more easily slide
earthward, right down his big shaft. She wiggled playfully upon the
impaling head. With a groan of displeasure the man was forced to lift
her off himself before she should make him violate the rules. Ophelia
went to the next man and did a similar dance upon the head of his prong.
Gradually she was passed from man to man until each had enjoyed a
taste of her pussy, and she of his deliciously intrusive penis. Even Alex
limited himself to just a teasing probe. Her eyes and his seemed to
share a special thought as she entertained his organ. But no words
were spoken, save a soft flutter of moans from her and a grunt from
him as he tasted her tightness.
Alex ordered Julie and I to masturbate ourselves as we watched
all this, and we did so, obediently stroking our lips and clittys with a
finger. We pulled our panties down to the tops of our thighs to give
ourselves free access. By the time Ophelia had mounted her final steed
we were in a fluster of impending orgasm.
Alex looked at us. Our titties ballooned naked above the shattered
tops of our corsets. Our faces were flushed. Our panties were prettily
lowered, cunts sweetly moist. Still our legs were sheathed in the
finest silk, and our feet shod with new booties. Their decorative
buckles gleamed. Uncomfortably we shifted upon the plugs which
speared our bottoms.
Ophelia turned to us then, said we must accompany her to the
woodshed. Conscious of the men's admiring gaze, we rose as gracefully
as possible. Julie seemed more ladylike than ever, poised and sleek.
She walked before me as we filed out of the room, the men taking up
position at our rear, following us. Ophelia led the way.
We stepped through a door and out into the stillness of the night.
I heard cows lowing in the distance. A tumbleweed lazily rolled by, as
if to gawk. We stepped upon flat, shattered flagstones, following them
in a path to a weatherbeaten stable. It was small, built for one purpose
only.
Julie and I stepped inside, big-bottomed in our clenching corsets,
following behind the lithe, light-hearted Ophelia, free in her nudity. I
spotted a brazier. Its coals glowed brightly. "We brand the cattle
here," Ophelia said easily, by way of explanation. As if I wanted one.
The men entered and closed the door behind us. It was crowded. I
wanted room. There was a space available, where a post stood,
festooned with iron manacles. Fresh hay upon the wooden floor there.
And before the post a sturdy, leather-topped trestle, waiting perhaps
for someone to be draped over it.
Julie, ever the sweet young mare in times of crisis, stepped up to
the brazier. An iron rod lay within it. With polished grace she slipped
on an oven mitt, which hung from the brazier, then lifted the hot iron.
"It has your mark upon it, Alex," Julie said softly. The tip of the
iron, a little circular brand, glowed luminously. Julie blew gently upon
it, as if to cool it.
"What do you think of it?" Alex asked.
"It is lovely," Julie said of the brand. "I'm sure your cows are
very proud to have it upon them." She lifted her eyes to his. They were
radiant. Yet tears had formed in the corners. "Where-where do you
place the brand?"
"The females receive it right upon the bottom," Alex said. Julie
considered the brand once more, then quietly replaced it in the brazier.
"It must be very hot to do its job," she said. She buried the tip
within the blazing coals.
Lightly Ophelia took Julie by the elbow, turned her to face the
post. Julie shook off her hand. With quiet grace she advanced to the
trestle, clad in her booties, her steps still awkward because of the butt
plug, yet managing to roll her hips seductively. She smoothed her
fingertips across the leather-covered top of the trestle. Ophelia
stepped up to her, grasped her by the soft brown locks of her hair. She
bent Julie down over the trestle. The glorious moon of Julie's bottom
rose as her face was forced toward the floor. Julie's arms were lifted
above the back of her head and, sticking out straight in front of her,
were shackled to the post. Ophelia gagged her with a strip of soft
leather, forcing it between her teeth as a kind of bit.
With a skip in her step Ophelia went behind Julie then, and bent
and spread her ankles. Julie seemed recalcitrant and Ophelia gave her a
light slap on her bottom with her hand. Then the legs were drawn
suitably wide, and clamped into irons. Ophelia stood up and admired her
handiwork, taking up her riding crop where she'd put it aside and
impatiently slapping her flank with it. She tossed her head. Her dark
hair moved freely, casually.
Alex held me tightly. My panties, never recovered, hung tightly
round the tops of my thighs. Julie's panties too remained where she'd
slipped them in order to masturbate. They hugged her just beneath the
underside of her bottom. I'd heard a tearing sound when her legs were
pulled apart and realized now it had been her g-string. Filaments of
ripped fiber glimmered here and there along the string. It would not fit
her anymore, was just an ornament now, a decoration.
Because she had peed she must be washed first, Alex said. He
rubbed me idly upon my clitty as he said this, as if to keep me ready for
my turn. Ophelia, able-bodied as a farm girl, filled a bucket from a
spigot and hoisted it, carried it over to Julie's bottom. With a sponge
Ophelia bathed the glorious haunches in ice cold water. Julie flinched
and moaned beneath her gag. When the laving was complete Ophelia put
the bucket aside. She kissed each wetly gleaming cheek then, lightly,
careful to leave no lipstick mark.
Alex chilled me to my core a moment later, saying, "You shall do
the honors, Kimmy." Roughly he guided me forward to the brazier,
fitted my right hand with the mitt, made me pick up the awful brand.
He presented me with the spectacle of Julie's helpless, darling young
wife's bottom. Ophelia had moved to Julie's head and stood stroking her
hair and consoling her.
"Poor baby," Ophelia said. "You will jump and dance in a display
that will haunt your imagination long after we have forgotten it. Or,
rather, your bottom will, all eyes riveted upon it. Didn't your mommie
teach you to keep your panties on? To keep your tushy properly
covered? Tsk! Tsk! Girls today in their thong bikinis just don't know
what they're asking for, do they? And you, you have even taken off your
G-string, naughty girl. How brazen you are, showing off your hiney as if
it were some work of art. It is nothing but what you poop out of with.
Do you think perhaps that you are just going to poop wherever you
please, like you do with your pee?" Ophelia's tone belied her words, for
she spoke gently, sympathetically, caressing Julie's trim shoulders and
glossy hair. Julie clenched and tensed her bottomcheeks, dreading her
impending fate...at my hands!
"This is what is called a light branding," Alex said, making me
weigh and balance the long iron rod in my mitted hand. "A brand must
be held against the flesh for a full ten seconds to leave a permanent
mark. You, I trust, will not do this. Simply touch the brand to Julie's
bottom for a second or so, as if to give her a sunburn there. You will
leave a mark but, like a sunburn, it will fade in a few days at most.
Stick her repeatedly with the brand, everywhere on her bottom. We find
this more fun than a single, searing, permanent moment of ten seconds.
Give it to her again and again, until her entire rump proudly bears the
mark of my ranch." Finally he warned me that, although I must go next,
if I failed to follow his instructions properly I would not only suffer
Julie's fate but have my hiney permanently marred. Helpfully he
pointed out that the flange of Julie's implanted butt-plug spread out
over her anus, covering and protecting it. However he told me to watch
out for the peeping lips of her pussy. Those were to be avoided.
Hopefully in her bucking and rearing Julie would not cause me to hit
them accidentally.
Nervous as a lamb at the slaughterhouse I was positioned before
Julie's widely-spread, bulging hiney. At Alex's insistence I suddenly
shot my wrist forth, sinking the burning brand into Julie's soft ass.
"YEEEOWPH!" Julie screamed beneath her gag as I just as suddenly
yanked the brand back. Sternly Alex admonished me of my punishment
if I failed to carry out his orders. I burst into tears and stuck Julie
again with the brand. She leapt upon the trestle, straining the
manacles. I planted the brand briefly again, then again, all the while
Ophelia happily cooing and consoling Julie. I don't think Julie was even
aware of her presence anymore, so hotly did the blazing brand draw her
focus to the plight of her bottom.
I speared Julie seemingly without mercy then, weeping openly all
the while, calling out apologies to her even as I tortured her. Soon
Julie's fanny sported the red marks of the ranch all over it. At last I
was ordered to stop. Ophelia left her post at Julie's head then and went
and got the bucket. She lifted it up and tossed its icy water upon
Julie's bottom. There was a big splash and Julie cried out at the
coldness, even as her bottom steamed with relief.
Julie was let up then, caressed, taken to a bench and made to sit,
though she protested loudly as they pressed her emblazoned fanny down
upon the wood. They gave her liquor and caressed her hair from her
eyes and praised her as one does a woman who has just been in labor.
Slowly Julie regained her senses and eventually was thanking them for
their many compliments.
Three of the men and Ophelia, meanwhile, as we waited for Julie
to recover, found a can of Redi-whip in a small fridge. Ophelia was
soon the worse for it, her pussy dutifully squirted, then her nipples,
and a line of the white stuff run up between the cheeks of her fanny.
She managed to do the men next though, grabbing the can from them and
making them stand still whilst she completely coated their straining,
naked cocks. Then she did their hairy balls, so tightly hung beneath,
ready to spurt yet being spurted on instead. Then she turned them about
and gave each of their anuses a white cap of foam.
I don't think I've ever been in a room that was headier with the
scent of lust. No one had been offered the relief of an orgasm. Alex's
latest injunction was that no one may come, and that the men must not
touch us girls. We were all, including myself, randy beyond belief. We
squirmed and presented our loins to one another even as we endeavored
to remain obedient to Alex. Men brandished their penises at me as I, in
turn, kept my hips well-thrust forward, offering my snatch to any who
would dare touch it, but none did. In their desperation some men began
stroking each other. This did not seem to violate Alex's rules of
engagement, though he wished for them to nonetheless retain their
sperm within their jostling testicles. Everywhere I looked I saw the
very flower of manhood presented boldly to my eyes, stripped naked and
rudely stiff and pulsing. No man was left who was not dripping copious
amounts of pre-cum. I could smell the saltiness of it and the musk of
the men's sweaty bodies, packed tightly in that small wooden shed.
That stable that served only as a stable for the purpose of branding.
Dizzily I was taken then to the trestle. Julie helped Ophelia bind
me down, telling me softly that it would not hurt too much (though she
was most assuredly lying), and that I would be proud of myself
afterward. Ophelia then re-filled the bucket. Between the inrolling
cheeks of my bottom she started my washing, squirting the icy water
between my shiveringly contorting cheeks. Then the sponge was passed
all over my bottom, and even underneath (making me jerk), over my
labia.
Brandishing the hot iron, Julie set at me then. She wept lightly. I
reared like an unbroken colt at the rodeo. The brand seared my flesh,
burning it, I threshed my head to and fro, tossing my hair like a
banshee. I screamed into my gag. I made a fine display with my
bottom, the men said later, wiggling it so deliciously that two of them
came.
Afterward I sat resting, bottom wet from its final dousing, as I
in turn was showered with praise. I asked for some whipped cream and
Ophelia squirted some on my tongue. I licked my lips, giving myself a
white moustache on my upper lip. Ophelia bent and licked it off.
Mischievously then she squirted each of my titties, right on their
budded areolas. Then she ardently licked them clean, sending shock
waves of erotic delight through my exhausted frame. I begged her to
stop but of course she didn't. The men clapped, penises waving.
Alex said then that it was time to proceed to the "mattress
room." With churning balls the men escorted we three females out of
the stable and back across the sand, under the moon that was in the
western sky now, still shining brightly. We passed through the party
room and out into a hall, where we met the old woman. She watched us
as we walked by, all naked and plugged and semi-bedraggled. Female
animals now, perhaps, no longer female women. Being escorted to a
special "rutting room," as one man called it.
Near the end of the hall a door. Helpfully a man turned the handle,
let us in. My eyes opened upon a chamber whose floor was covered with
mattresses. It held nothing else. No furniture, no pictures, just heavy
drapes drawn shut over the windows. Light permeated through the
corners of the ceiling, softly bathing the room from hidden fixtures,
giving it a kind of romantic gloom. In one corner I spied some KY jelly,
that was all.
The door closed. Julie and I stood with some difficulty in our
stiletto booties upon the pliant mattresses. Alex ordered us to strip
naked, to remove everything but our butt-plugs. We did so, untying our
corsets, thankfully removing them, as the men lay down and lounged
about us, stroking their cocks. Ophelia was already down amongst them
and she squealingly received probing digits up her cunny, in her ass, in
her mouth. Grasping two of the nearest cocks she held them at bay,
though she could not stop the luring fingers that worked themselves
within her.
Julie finished undressing first. She gave a fine toss of her head,
then knelt down before the nearest man. She cupped his bloated balls in
her palms and eased her open mouth over the head of his penis.
Gracefully she began sucking him, bobbing her head prettily as she
lofted her bottom high behind her. Elegant, the well-trained newlywed
wife, she opened her legs without being told and presented the peeping
fig of her cunny to whomever might wish to be charmed by it.
In fact it was I who crouched down then behind her, not knowing
what else to do, fearing the men. I kissed her bottom apologetically
and lightly flicked her cunny with my fingertip. Julie rolled her bottom
and presented it more boldly, all the while dutifully servicing her
chosen male.
Alex came up behind me. Unprotestingly I let him draw my knees
out from under my chest. Twisting my head about I watched as he
raised my hips with his hands. "Put your cheek to the mattress," he
said softly, gently. Yet I could tell he was restraining himself with the
utmost difficulty. Beneath his smooth exterior a raging animal howled,
begging for release. He watched as I looked down at his cock. My eyes
showed approval. I pressed my face down so that it came into contact
with the mattress. I snuggled my cheek against it. My face took on a
look of pure obedience. I extended my tongue. There was a bead of
saliva on the tip. The count had mentioned tongue extenders once, clips
that kept the tongue protruding from the mouth. I pretended I wore one
now.
A rustling behind me. Alex took up his position. With a quick
backward glance I saw his face had assumed a look of utter
seriousness. Men always get deathly serious right at this moment. It
is no longer the pleasure of it that they seek, but the actual planting of
their seed. Nature has them in its grip and requires of them that they
deliver themselves up. And they are eager to. This is what they were
made for. I felt his nubbing cockhead probe within the lips of my cunny.
I balled my bottom back more, twisting it upward, to give him purchase.
Julie's bottom still arched high and untouched beside me.
A jolt within me, up! I grimaced. The butt plug made my vaginal
passage tighter. Another thrust. Aghhh, sooo tight. Was it me
speaking, or him? The pressure of being plugged in both ends at once
was intense. Yet the one in my vagina was moving! I screeched and
gasped and found intensely pleasurable waves rippling all through my
body. I churned my hips and pressed them back, begging to absorb yet
more of Alex's hard dick. Manfully he accommodated me. I was pushed
to the brink and beyond, then again, he rodding me furiously now.
Copious wads of sperm coursed into me at last, flooding my uterus with
his precious burden.
Immediately he turned to Julie, exercising his privilege as host to
fuck each of us first. He bade me rise and help him regain his strength.
Julie's fig waited, alluring and open, as with aching cunt and plugged
bottom I went to work on Alex's cock. Quickly I was able to stroke it
back to full erection. He gave me KY jelly and I smeared his manhood
thoroughly. Then he rose, stallion-like, upon his knees, cock pointing.
He thrust it up Julie then, her moan caused the man in her mouth to
begin spending.
Ophelia reached out and touched my shoulder then, smilingly
eased me down onto my back to play with her and her suitors. We
dallied the night away, alternately being fucked by each of the men in
turn. I did not know what my future held but, somehow, I could not
picture myself whiling away the next three years in high school.
Still flush with a lingering excitement Julie and I left the
hacienda the next morning. Out of necessity Julie wore only her
discarded dress, with nothing on underneath. I had managed to fit
myself into a pair of Ophelia's panties, and wore the dress over them.
With an easy confidence I surveyed the arid landscape. My mother had
arrived home yesterday. Had she listed me as "missing" by now? I
didn't care. Helga had paged us. There was a chance to do some
sightseeing in Buenos Aires. It seemed a certain wealthy gentleman
down there desired some female companionship. Now, should I read
about Argentina in a school book or go there myself? I decided to
experience it firsthand...with my pussy.
THE END
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-END OF story EMISSION