Dear Jodie Foster, I need a date.
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 114 alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Seven
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Two
I glanced at the general. My hair was perfect. Not combed, but
youthfully perfect, carefree. Such men must like it this way, I knew,
hanging down, loose. My eyelashes fluttered, I sucked in a strand of
saucy spaghetti. I felt a droplet of sauce fall to my breast. I lifted my
gourd, my bosom, licked off the sauce directly with my tongue. I looked
at the general as I did it. The men complimented my boldness. But the
general just gazed at me, half-watching, half-not, seeing through me as
much as anything. He seemed ambiguous. Probably, he had entertained
so many young ladies that he was now rather jaded. HeÕd probably spent
in the party room. He was waiting to refill. We would eat and he would
fill his balls and want to come again. At least I hoped so. I felt
emboldened by his diffidence. He would love me above the rest. He
would remember me, though he forgot all the other girls.
I flicked my eyes toward the woman. She seemed spoiled. I
admired her gown out of the corner of my eye. It glittered, moulding
what promised to be an amazing figure. I had little doubt I might see
her naked before the night was out. But--I thought of the lash--would I
be watching her mainly from between my legs, with my head upside
down? Kimber had told me of such things, being strapped to a trestle,
legs apart, blonde hair falling, touching the floor. The tender bottom
your highest point. Your ankles, wrists pinioned. The lash would fall
smartly. It would make me hurt much more than our games in the party
room had. The thought made me tremble and I put it out of my mind.
Again my eyes returned to the general. I must not be too free
with my eyes, I knew. Perhaps I did not want to be. I would be coy. I
kept my glance surreptitious. As I appraised him a sense of recognition
dawned within me. Had I not seen him before? On T.V., perhaps? Those
jowls. That goofy haircut. Was there a hairpiece atop that goofy
haircut? And the gut. He tried to sit straight and tall, but you could
not deny the gut. Omigod! Yes! I realized it now. He was no general.
He was Senator Exon, from America. Down from the Capitol to take his
vacation here. A junket, paid for by taxpayers. Could I be sure? Was it
really him? I looked again, more boldly. He seemed to shift under my
gaze, wish I might look less perceptively. I returned my eyes to my
meal. Yes, it was him. I ate quietly. I dwelt within my thoughts.
Mandy slurped up her spaghetti noisily. ÒEat properly, dear,Ó the woman
scolded her.
Time slipped by. Naked, like little animals, Mandy and I devoured
our meal. We were hungry. The running, crawling on our knees, the
fright, the cages, the whips. The sense of unease, uncertainty, yet
within it all the SenatorÕs hand, guiding us, toying with us. Two weeks
ago I had been but a girl, excited by a log ride. Now I was something
more. I was love, erotic feeling. My bottom was cupidÕs bottom. My
hands played on the bowstrings of the menÕs hearts. Summer pastures,
ripe and lush, were the milk-white wineskins of my breasts. I would
nurture herds of children with them.
After dinner Mandy and I were blindfolded once more. My tummy
was full. I felt slightly tipsy from the wine. My breasts wobbled
nakedly on my chest as they blindfolded me. My hiney felt comfy. I did
not want it to be spanked again.
My chair was removed. I was made to rise. I felt my asscheeks
sticking out on both sides of my panties. They were jammed in my
buttcrack from my sitting. I tried to fix myself in behind, but my hands
were slapped away. I could not reach all the way back anyway. My
wrists drew the chain between them taut against my thighs. But I
could have got my panties out of my cunt, bent, flexed my knees, tried.
ÒWe like you as you are,Ó the woman in the elegant evening gown told
me, Mandy.
With my ass cheeks hanging out, my little panties bunched in my
crack, I was led down what seemed to be a long corridor, Mandy
following. The woman guided us. The men followed. The carpeting
under our feet gave way finally to wood. Eventually, passing into a
room, we were on carpeting once more, especially plush and squishy. I
heard a door close behind us. The woman unwound our blindfolds.
Mandy and I gasped as we took in our surroundings. We were in a
huge master bedroom, with an equally large bed. There could be no
doubt that it was the senatorÕs. The bedcovers were already turned
back. The bed had gleaming brass posts with twin pairs of scarf ties
already looped about them. Next to the bed hung a single black whip,
and beneath it was a nightstand busy with vials of ointment and cream.
A vase held colored condoms, arranged like the spreading petals of a
flower. Mirrors reflected our youthful beauty back at us. Behind us
stood the two men, the senator, and the woman.
"You may remove your panties," the woman intoned. "You won't be
needing them here." I did not know what to say. I guessed a verbal
response was unneeded, unwelcome. A part of me wanted to go ahead,
to get it over with. IÕd teased and been teased. It was time to fuck. I
did not know what to make of the whip. It scared me. Mandy looked
like she might wilt. But, boldly, we both made the same decision. Did
we have a choice? We did not ask for one.
Apprehensively I drew down the wisp of fabric that passed for my
panties. They were so delicate, so chic, I hated to lose them. But they
were in the way, werenÕt they? Of what? I could only hope nothing bad
would happen to me. Looking in the mirror, I saw the men waiting.
They were bulging, down where it counted. The senator too. Ah, he
liked me now, did he?
Of necessity, my wrists still chained, I drew my undies down by
tugging on them in front. As they passed snappily off my bottom I
fearfully clenched my soft cheeks. I looked over my shoulder at the
senator. His eyes were fixed on my ass. The two gentlemen's eyes
seemed pasted to it. In a mirror I saw that the stripes from the horsey
race had faded, leaving my butt mostly white. Twin snowy globes, eyed
by vultures. I did not know what to do. I slid the last morsel of my
modesty down my thighs and stepped out of them, leaving them on the
floor. Mandy did likewise.
"A pretty pair, are they not?" the woman asked the gentlemen
with a toss of her blonde head. For a moment I thought she was
speaking of our discarded panties. Alas, they were forgotten, except by
Mandy and me. The gentlemen eyeballed our asses, nodded.
"Perhaps an enema would help them to sleep?" one of the men
asked hopefully.
"It is still a bit early for sleep," the senator intoned.
"Quarter to midnight," the man replied.
"But they are big girls now," the woman said smilingly. "I'm sure
they're eager to stay up late and play with us adults."
A magical moment ensued then, seemingly timeless, where we
stood simply staring at one another. Mandy and I were raw naked,
trembling deliciously. We exchanged glances. I knew only her first
name, yet I felt sure that before the night was out I would be
intimately acquainted with her privates, forced to lick and titillate
them while she did the same to me. 69, it was called, wasnÕt it? You
go down on me, I go down on you. Each is captive to the other. With our
guardians standing all around us. Indeed it was then that the woman
asked us to show our tongues. Giggling we opened our mouths and stuck
them out, impishly. The men, eager for more than a mere view,
unzipped themselves. In their case I did not even know their names, yet
I was about to be forcibly introduced to their manhood. I hoped they
would prove worthy of the attention I knew I would be required to
lavish upon them.
And they were! Mandy and I gasped as their twin pulsing rods of
flesh sprung from their flies and wiggled temptingly in the open air.
Only the senator remained zippered. A slightly bored grin had settled
on his face. He'd seen all this before, too many times, perhaps. It had
become nothing more than a nightly ritual for him, a Packwood ritual,
yet one he might as well partake of, for lack of any better sport.
"Come girls, I'm sure you will prove most delightful," the woman
said, stepping forward and cupping us by our bottoms. She turned us
around, so that we faced the men directly. Giving us each a gentle
squeeze on our fannies she urged us the few paces forward toward our
suitors. Then, as if not wishing to waste a moment, she lifted her
hands and pressed down upon our tousled heads. We dropped to our
knees upon the floor. Our breasts jiggled. Our mouths opened. We had
only to lean forward slightly to complete the lewd contact. The men,
randy and eager, thrust forward their hips and forced their bristling
members twixt our lips.
My paramour drove himself in a full four inches, hitting the back
of my throat and even driving down it a bit, causing me to choke. The
woman grasped him by his swollen balls and eased him back, letting me
catch my breath. I swirled my tongue around his rod to get the feel of
him. Then I sucked him encouragingly, and he pushed himself in again.
"She is a virgin," the woman whispered to the man, pumping his
testicles in her palm. He started, his cock quivered, he nearly lost
himself, uttering a startled groan. Beside me Mandy was paying
tribute, and her lover nearly lost his load. She looked up at him with an
admonishing glance. I giggled at the misfortune I'd nearly caused. My
man groaned again, practically a torture victim at this point. And it
was his penis which was the focus of such exquisite torture.
Soon both men were properly wettened by our saliva. It was time
for the gentlemen to be oiled, the senator said. ÒSo that you will meet
as little resistance as possible.Ó
ÒDoing what?Ó my suitor asked. His voice was haggard. What
answer did he hope for?
ÒIn a moment both of you must display your manly vigor...up
within my girlsÕ bottoms,Ó the senator said. My breath caught audibly
in my throat. I rose, a bit shakily, a foal newly born. This would be the
last night of my anal virginity. My bottom cheeks tightened at the
prospect. Debbi was right. Our senator was "an ass man." He eyed the
two gentlemen with their finely displayed, hair-trigger cocks. Could
they hold themselves? Both of them were desperate. I guessed they
had not had virgin girls before. Was Mandy virgin? I did not know. She
was my age. The senatorÕs eyes fixed on the gentlemenÕs cocks like an
eagle, eyeing prey. ÒIt will be a tight fit, boys,Ó he said. ÒIÕve been
known to do a Bobbitt on boys who canÕt make the grade.Ó They
shivered. Were they to master me, in my virginity, or was I somehow
to be master of them? I might wiggle, resist, make them cum when
they might not have. Did I hold the key to their continued virility? It
was strange, playing virgin goddess like this. I glanced at Mandy. She
caught my eye. We felt a rush of giddy power. Yes, boys, have your
little virgins, but beware. We might be naughty. The senator might cut
off your offspring if you donÕt please us.
I remained politely receptive. The senator had Mandy and I offer
up our palms. The woman poured oil into our cupped hands and told us
to grease up our stallions. Laughingly we obeyed. Sleek-limbed, naked,
we were graceful, tossing our heads, smiling sweetly. The men with
their hairy chests and tufted groins, cocks sprouting, balls clenching,
stood like soldiers in service to the Queen. They relished our touch at
first. Soon, though, to their astonishment, the oil began to take on a
burning warmth. I could feel it upon my own hands. They protested as
more of the oil was poured into our palms and we were told to apply a
second coat. Chuckling to himself the senator watched. The men
became torn between the pleasure of our ministrations and the
dastardly effect the oil was having on their loins. They gaped down at
their stiff members, eyes wide, confused.
"It burns," Mandy whined, for it was all over her hands as well as
my own. We both drew back our hips a little to avoid spilling any of the
nasty stuff on our own privates. The men, who at dinner had been quite
certain that Mandy and I were there just to be used by them, seemed
shocked. We were their torturesses now. With every loving stroke of
our hands they stiffened all the more, agonizingly, the oil streaking
their cocks with fire. Mentally, IÕd been preparing myself for the fate
of a pet. A slave, nothing more. Used, perhaps abused. A living love
doll. Yet now the refined taste of the senator had exacted a price from
the gentlemen themselves. We were all in this together. No one, it
seemed, would escape without some sacrifice. Mandy and I, our wrists
still shackled, chains clinking, worked our stallions with ever more
enthusiasm.
The woman undressed herself, proving to be as stunning as I'd
imagined. Sumptuous bosoms rose startlingly up from her chest. Above
them her shoulders were waifishly frail. Below them her ribs could be
seen, each one, ready to be counted. Her waist was waspishly thin, but
her hips full and developed, ready to birth as many children as any man
might desire. Long slim legs stretched down to her feet. I stared at
them. They were as small as any Japanese Geisha's. Her toes wiggled
with pent-up enthusiasm. Ten little piggies, going to market, across a
plush carpet. Truly I would not be deprived by having to go to bed with
such a beautiful female. The senator thanked her for undressing and
came round and tapped me on the shoulder. I thought then that I must
be made to pay obeisance to this woman. My eyes showed a little fright
at the prospect. She was gazing at me sternly. She was an Amazon, not
to be crossed. I might play with the men, my Tarzan gentlemen. But
Jane was another matter.
"Anoint her nipples," the senator said to the woman. She poured a
little oil on her fingers. She applied them to my stiff titties.
I cried out, shocked. The oil did not burn yet, indeed her touch
was tantalizingly pleasant, but I knew what soon would follow. I kept
on frigging my lover, my Tarzan-man. His eyes took on a pleased,
vengeful look, even as he still suffered under my oiled touch. ÒWhatÕs
good for the gander is most definitely good for the goose,Ó he muttered.
I bit my lip. Both my nipples glowed with the awful ointment, and
I began to feel an itching upon them. The woman pressed her pussy
against mine. She rubbed my muff with her own. Our curls intertwined.
Our cuntlips sought, each of us indrawing, neither satisfied. It
happened all in a moment. Jiminy Cricket told me to draw back but I
remained fixed in place. She whispered soothing words, baby sounds,
lover's nonsense. I gurgled a half-audible reply, loving her touch as she
worked my nipples like combination knobs on some safe with treasure
inside.
I threw my head back then, as tongues of flame seemed suddenly
to spring from my teats. They were on fire! In my mind I saw them as
they'd been when I was 8, budding churlishly, to the dismay of my
mother. Swelling, puffing, now they seemed consumed by the devil
himself. The woman twisted them now, almost severely, making my
suffering yet worse. The man opposite me, whose cock I still held,
laughed grimly.
"Find her clitty," the senator said.
"No!" I cried, but it was too late for resistance now. My feet
clanked with the chain that ran between them. I lifted first one foot,
then the other, thinking of fleeing, but I could not with such a cumbrous
weight upon my ankles. The woman's hands dove between my legs,
sought my button, found it. Beside me Mandy still stood with her
bottom slightly back, to keep oil from splashing her pussy in front. She
looked over at me with frightened eyes. She gripped her paramourÕs
penis. It was a thick vine. He would use it to swing with her to safety.
"Ooh, yes!" I sighed helplessly. I gaped at the ceiling, the woman.
My eyes roved round the room. My tongue lolled. The woman's
fingertips brushed my aroused clitty. Lightly she fingered it, pouring
more oil on her digits. The ointment was applied ruthlessly, making me
squirm and wriggle. My spot soon burned within. I groaned at my
misfortune. Nothing else was touched save my clit. She was precise,
skillful. Like a girl needing to pee I stomped, danced on the carpet. But
I could not relieve myself, even in the toilet. I was truly in the hands
of a master sadist, a senator who knew tricks beyond the MarquisÕ
fondest imaginings.
The woman moved to Mandy next, who stood like a fawn caught in
the headlights of an oncoming car. Slowly I was able to conquer my
own agony and turn my head to watch her. She shivered, nakedly, a
child in a chilly bathhouse. My lover and I grinned knowingly as Mandy
succumbed to the oil. When the deed was done the woman stepped back
and admired us all. The senator complimented her handiwork.
"Now they know what it means to sprout nipples and cocks in the
house of the senator," he said laughingly. "Such audacity must not go
unpunished."
"May I play also?" the woman asked. Her eyes were wanton. She
loved the game. Her hips weaved a little, seeking.
"Of course. The girls will do you while I have the men present
themselves to me for inspection," the senator said.
Mandy and I were taken from our lovers and the bottle of oil, so
wicked, was given to us. We held it together, sharing it, afraid of the
genie within. I rubbed the bulbous base of the bottle. It had a long
stem, fluted, made of purple glass.
Like Hera, queen of the gods, the woman presented herself to us.
Her full breasts bounced on her chest. She wriggled her bare hips. Her
legs were apart, letting us glimpse her cunny. She offered us a better
view, thrusting forward her fleecy pubis.
She seemed to expect a kiss from us. We each pecked her on the
cheek, then set about doing to her what she'd just done to us. She
squirmed under our touch.
D R E A M G I R L S L E T T E R S
Hot Horny Nine-Year-Old Needs Sex NOW!
Elmer Twiddle writes: ÒI canÕt find a condom that wonÕt fall off my
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I dropped it.) Not to get into this matter too deeply, but do they sell
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Andrew Roller. Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF 114 EMISSION