Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 29    Friday    June 23, 1995  
alt.stories.erotic  alt.sex.stories

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Twenty-Eight
by Andrew Roller 

Chapter Sixteen

         We followed the count downstairs and into the parlor.  We were 
fully dressed, ready to go.  It felt strange to be wearing clothing again.  
Suddenly my eyes fell upon a familiar countenance, and bust.  It was 
Helga!
         It's funny how someone you once convinced yourself to hate can 
come back into your life and make you feel good.  I was truly delighted 
to see her, as was Julie.  It was as if we'd matured a bit during our 
month at the count's (me especially), and there were no chips lingering 
on my shoulder against her.  We chatted gaily.  She asked if she could 
join us on the road.  We said we wanted to see a bit more of Europe 
before we returned to America, and we really needed her to guide us.  
She accepted the offer, said she'd be our "chaperone."  We laughed.
         For all his efforts with the whip, the count had never gotten 
around to actually fucking me.  He gazed at me as Julie and Helga and I 
stood before him a final time, bags in hand, ready to depart.  He'd given 
us the loan of a bright red Lamborghini for our travels.
         "God, I was so impressed with your ravishing beauty that I held 
off on fucking you, foolishly, I suppose, considering that others proved 
less restrained," the count mused.
         "Well, you had your crack at her," Helga admonished.
         "Quite a few," I said, absently giving my tushy a quick rub.  Then I 
stepped forward and modestly bussed him on the cheek.  "Goodbye," I 
smiled.  He made to kiss me on the lips but coyly I withdrew.  
         "You are welcome any time," he urged.
         "I know," I replied.  We left him then, standing in his great stone 
hall.  As we pulled away I knew I would never be back.  He was too old, 
after all, too lonely and morose.  I felt sorry for him then.  He was the 
true captive in his castle.  Girls like myself remained free and 
unfettered, alighting there for a moment, perhaps, to receive some 
needed discipline, then leaving.
         I was more confident about myself now, about my body, after 
staying the month at the count's.  I had arrived a snub-nosed mall rat, 
self-centered and sassy.  Now I felt I was a young lady.  I was eager to 
experience the world on these new terms, as a full-fledged young 
woman.  Little did I know that Helga had already planned for our first 
stop to fulfill my wishes.         
         We spent most of the day idly tooling along back roads towards 
Germany.  We crossed the border at sunset.  Helga said she thought it 
wise for us to economize where we could.  There was a youth hostel 
nearby, she said, run by a particular sect of the Mennonites.  
"Celebrating God and nature as one," was their slogan.  It sounded like 
something David Koresh might have dreamed up.  Their hostel had 
several unique features to it that were not to be missed, Helga said.  
Julie and I agreed we'd spend the night.  It was another one of those 
situations where curiosity got the best of us.  Fortunately we both 
seemed to have nine lives.
         In a forest of ash and black alder stood, by itself, a modest 
wooden building.  After our stay at the count's it seemed rudely 
spartan.  Its architecture was that of the saltbox, namely, four walls 
and a roof, with a chimney.  Weathered clapboards covered its exterior.  
We parked out back, in a grassy clearing.  I knew we were in for a 
rustic time when Helga parked within yards of an outhouse.  There were 
no uniformed footmen to help us in with our bags.  We trundled in with 
them ourselves and, finding the front desk, were assigned a room.
         One bedroom would have to suffice for all three of us, the clerk 
said.  She was a woman wearing a hood and cloak that reminded me of a 
nun's habit, though more medieval.  Helga replied that such an 
arrangement was fine.  We lugged our bags upstairs.  Julie and I 
exchanged glances, but said nothing.  The stairs to the second floor 
creaked under our footsteps.  There was no hand rail.  The walls were 
uniformly bare.  
         "Helga, you forgot to get the key," I piped up suddenly as we 
headed down a hallway.  
         "Won't need one," Helga replied.  "Just take what you want out of 
your bags, whatever isn't valuable, and then we'll lock the rest back up 
in the trunk of our car."
         "You mean our room won't have a lock on the door?" Julie asked.  
         "Nope," Helga replied.  "I told you this youth hostel was somewhat 
unique."
         Our bedroom proved to be a small cubicle furnished with a single 
bed.  It had a brightly polished brass headboard and footboard.  But it 
creaked when you sat down on it.  From much use, Helga said.  There 
was a slight bow in the middle, as if to urge its sleeping occupants 
closer together.  There was also a wooden stool, which had been placed 
in front of a mirror, where one could apply one's makeup.  And there 
was a closet, with built-in shelving at one end.  Other than that the 
room was empty.  Helga said that the bathroom was down the hall.
         "The entire building has only one bathroom, and one shower,"  
Helga said.  "So don't be surprised if you see a man in there.  And it's 
quite likely that someone will jump in the shower with you.  But you 
need not be alarmed.  We are all equals here, fellow travellers."  I was 
beginning to get a glimmer of what the hostel's 'unique features' might 
consist of.  Helga began unbuttoning her blouse.  "Clothing is optional, 
so I'm going to take advantage of such a lenient policy and get out of 
these things I've been wearing all day."  She matter-of-factly stripped 
down to a pair of nothing panties as Julie and I watched, fidgeting, 
wishing we could occupy ourselves somehow.  But there was nothing, 
absolutely nothing, to do in this hostel.  Save one.
         "While we ARE assigned this room, you may go into any room you 
choose, at any time.  None of them can be locked," Helga said.
         "But what if-what if someone is having sex with their 
boyfriend?" Julie asked.
         "She will probably invite you to join her," Helga smiled.  And I 
realized that the one thing you could do in abundance here was have sex.  
Raw sex with total strangers.  I shivered.  I felt a little less confident 
in my young ladyhood.  In my assessment of myself as a full-fledged 
woman.
         Standing in her skimpy panties before us Helga filled us in on the 
final, more mundane details about the hostel.  "Dinner is at ten-thirty 
for late arrivals like ourselves.  Then there's breakfast at eight, lunch 
at noon, and the main dinner at six p.m.  Its a communal dinner 
downstairs in the great room.  Buffet style, just help yourself.  There's 
an above ground wooden pool out back.  It's not heated, so be prepared 
for a chilly entrance.  I'll see you in a bit.  I'm going for a swim in my 
panties."  
         Carefree and topless, a small towel draped over her shoulders, 
Helga sauntered out of our bedroom.  I watched her rolling bottom 
cheeks shifting within her tight little undies as she left.  I turned to 
Julie.
         "Well, it's clean, at least, immaculately clean," I said.  
         "Yes, the hostel may creak when you walk up its steps but at least 
the steps are well swept," Julie replied.  "Would you join me in the 
shower?  I'd like to have at least one person I know in there with me."
         "Okay," I said.  I pulled off my top.
         "Let's keep on our panties," Julie advised.  "I'm not sure I want to 
be totally nude in a shower that just anyone can walk into."
         "Good idea," I said.
         "We can always pull them down to our knees to wash ourselves 
between our legs.  And then we can pull them back up."
         "Yes."
         For reassurance we took each other by the hand for our trip to the 
shower.  We slung towels around our necks and placed the ends artfully 
over our bare titties.  Then we started down the hall.
         Suddenly a female scream rent the air, from behind a closed door.  
It was followed by plaintive cries for help.  Instinctively Julie tried 
the doorknob, thinking it would prove to be locked.  Instead it turned 
and the door swung open easily on its hinges.
         "Oh, yes!  Oh, yes!" the same female voice cried out now.  With 
gaping eyes we found ourselves staring at a beautiful young woman 
being fucked up both ends by two hardy men.  They pumped her with 
abandon, yet one managed to glance over at us.
         "Forgive her, it's her first time," he said, not missing a stroke as 
he spoke to us.  Blearily the girl looked over and invited us to come in.  
Then she bowed her head and worked her hips more vigorously, joining 
in the act of her own deflowerment.  She rode the man who had spoken 
to us.  He lay beneath her, thrusting up into her cunt.  At her ass a 
second man, pumping furiously.  I wondered how it could be her first 
time ever, then realized they might mean her first time taking two 
pricks at once.
         Julie and I turned and left, thanking them politely.  I did not 
notice that, in blanching at the sight, my towel ends had fallen from my 
breasts.  Julie too now sported a brightly visible pair of cherry nipples, 
their stems rising.  Together we continued on toward the bathroom, 
clad only in red panties that were a size too small.
         As we approached the door to the bathroom a man stepped out, 
totally nude.  I couldn't help glancing at his cock, which was large and 
swung easily between his legs.  He followed my eyes.  
         "You must be new here," he said.  Julie and I both nodded.  He kept 
walking, mentioned that the shower water was warm for a change, bid 
us to have a pleasant bath.  Then he was gone.  
         Gratefully we found that the small tiled room that served as a 
gang shower was empty.  A bar of soap sat in a tray by one of the 
dripping nozzles.  Julie fetched it and turned on a shower head.  I turned 
on a second one and we began to soap ourselves with our hands.
         I had my panties down around my knees and was washing my 
bottom when a totally naked young man and woman stepped in, hand in 
hand.  They smiled at us and the woman suppressed a giggle with her 
hand.  I knew she was laughing at my attempt at modesty, my panties.  I 
blushed.
         "I guess I look kinda geeky, huh?" I asked.
         "Yes, but it's alright," she said as she and her friend turned on a 
nozzle and began washing each other.  "Everyone has misgivings when 
they first arrive."  Her hands went to her paramour's penis and she 
began lathering it.  He was erect, balls tightly drawn up.  "You will find 
that no one will ever force you, unless you want them to.  We are all 
very casual, very open here.  People come and go and you meet new ones 
all the time.  Everyone is cleared in advance for their beauty and as 
being free from disease."  She regarded Julie in her red panties.  "You 
two must have someone else with you, eh?  Someone who arranged your 
stay?"  We nodded, said it was Helga.  "You see?  Your friend sent in the 
paperwork for you.  So now you know how it is done.  If you want to be 
forced there is a woodshed out back.  Just beyond the pool.  You can 
invite someone to take you there for a whipping.  Or just go there, it's 
well used.  Someone will give you what you need.  Otherwise you needn't 
worry about being pushed into anything you don't want to do.  So relax, 
take off your panties.  It's a rare thing to be able to feel so uninhibited, 
especially amongst strangers."
         We followed her advice and drew our panties down our legs.  We 
looped them over a shower head and continued washing.  Our new friend 
washed only her boyfriend's penis.  He concentrated solely on her 
titties and cunt.  Soon they were both moaning ecstatically, and they 
kept on repeatedly washing the same areas.  Fortunately they'd brought 
their own soap, or we'd never have gotten hold of the bar again if we'd 
lent them ours.
         We rinsed, replaced the soap in its tray for another to use, and bid 
our fellow couple goodbye.  They mumbled back, straining on the brink 
of orgasm yet trying to shudderingly hold themselves in.  I admired 
their control.  As Julie and I dried off they successfully eased 
themselves off the edge of orgasm.  Then the woman let go of her 
husband's quivering tool and walked over to where we'd stood bathing.  
         "You forgot your panties," she said, taking them down from the 
nozzles for us.  She gave them to us and we thanked her.  Then she 
padded back to her husband and asked if he were ready again.  He agreed 
and they began soaping each other's genitals once more.
***
         At dinner Julie and I met another couple who had just arrived.  
They had visited before, said it was one of the high points of their trip 
to Europe.  
         "Everyone is so nice here," the woman, a luscious Australian with 
big boobs, said.  Her husband, a trapper from the outback, nodded.  "My 
husband is so vigorous.  He outlasts me every time.  He needs to be able 
to come to a place where he can totally exhaust himself for a change."  
She said it was their second trip, but they hoped to come many more 
times.  I believed her about her husband.  He looked like Crocodile 
Dundee, but with a massive chest.  I trembled at the thought of him 
exhausting himself on me.
         Many of the diners were naked.  Julie and I still clung to our 
panties, as the faithful to some religious talisman.  But we were bold 
enough to go topless now, without towels.  "Croc," as I nicknamed him, 
spent the meal enjoying the swaying of our boobs.  He himself was 
naked, with a partially erect cock that already would rival many men's 
in size.  His wife, also nude, had the body of a sex pin-up, but she 
displayed it unselfconsciously.  Both of them seemed without 
pretension, despite their obvious beauty in a crowd that was already 
selected on the basis of possessing just such an attribute.  A nice lot, 
the Australians, I thought.  We could use more of them in America.
         "Why don't you join us in our room?" Beth, our Aussie dinner 
companion, asked when we were finished eating.  Julie and I considered 
a moment and said we would.  There wasn't much else to do, that was 
for sure.  We grabbed some rolls and cheese for Helga, who apparently 
had decided to continue her swim.
         Chatting casually we mounted the creaking staircase to the 
second floor.  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Croc's organ 
stiffening.  He was fully erect by the time we'd reached the landing at 
the top of the stairs.  We talked about the nice weather as we strolled 
down the hall, then we arrived at their door and they opened it, letting 
us in.
         Another bare room, furnished only with a big brass bed.  And a 
stool.  On the stool had been placed KY jelly, some colored condoms, a 
jar of petroleum jelly.  I went over to it and daintily made room for 
Helga's rolls, tied up in a linen napkin.
         The bed had been turned back, and its sheets looked cool and 
inviting after our long day on the road.  There was no place else to sit, 
so with Beth taking the lead we all plopped down onto their bed.  It 
bounced as we each sat, the springs well worn from years of (no doubt 
vigorous) use.
         Beth scolded Croc for his erection.  Julie complimented it, saying 
it appeared to be a very fine instrument.  I agreed.
         Beth laughed.  "Why don't you untie your panties, girls?" she softly 
suggested.  "We're not at dinner anymore."  Julie and I stood and faced 
them.  Why we felt this was necessary I do not know, but I sultrily 
undid my ties and then let my undies drop to the floor.  I regarded them 
there a moment, as if debating whether to pick them up, then gave my 
hair a toss and sat back down on the bed.  Julie also made a little 
production of the removal of her panties, then nonchalantly took her 
place on the bed again.
         We conversed pleasantly for several minutes, our glances 
becoming ever more seductive, the topics racier.  I ran my hands along 
my thighs.  I spread them slightly.  Julie touched a finger to her throat, 
then between her breasts.  Beth tugged absently at her pubic hair.  Croc 
leaned back on his elbows and, discussing mating habits in the outback, 
gently thrust his cock into the air repeatedly.  We girls giggled at this, 
fascinated.
         Beth stepped gracefully from the bed.  "I hope you don't mind, but 
when he does that it means he wants his dick oiled," she said.  Then she 
smiled at us.  "His fine instrument."  We blushed.
         She got the KY jelly and laved it on with her hands.  We asked if 
we could help.
         "Two pair of hands are better than one," she said gaily.  "But since 
we have three, one of you better concentrate on his balls."  I chose to 
take his testes, found them full and tight.  After a bit Beth switched 
with me and I got a chance to finger his throbbing penis, sharing it with 
Julie.  I squirted more KY jelly onto my fingers and rubbed him some 
more.  My bare breasts danced before his eyes.
         "What will you do with yourself when you're all lubed up?" I 
asked.
         "Take a cold shower, no doubt," he replied.
         "Oh, you needn't do that," Julie said.  "There's plenty of room in 
here for a wet, hard cock."
         "I think I'd best turn the sheets and covers all the way down," 
Beth said quietly.  She rose from the bed and prepared it so that only 
the stretch-sheet upon which we sat remained.  The cover sheet and 
bedspread were bundled in a neat roll at the foot of the bed.  Julie and I, 
finished now, wiped off our oil-slathered hands on Dan's hairy thighs, 
just as Beth had wiped hers a moment ago on his back.
         The room was pleasantly warm.  We were perched on a kind of mat 
now, and there could be little doubt of its use.  Beth got back on the 
bed, on her knees.  She gazed at Julie and I.  
         "Shall we get started?" she asked sweetly.   

D R E A M G I R L S  N E W S

NEWSWEEK GETS IT WRONG
(Again)
by holy joe

         In an article on page 8 titled ÒSex on the Net,Ó the June 26th 
Newsweek states:  Ò...the Communications Decency Act...which would 
impose fines or prison terms for anyone distributing obscene material 
over a computer network.Ó  Actually, as you know, the terminology 
imposed is much more draconian than that.  It is, specifically, "obscene, 
lewd, lascivious, filthy or indecent"  ÒObsceneÓ is something that you 
cannot publish at any time, in any format.  ÒIndecentÓ is Beverly Hills 
90210.  Once again Newsweek is slanting the news to make the imposition 
of a police state on America palatable to its readers.
         Fortunately, if you dig through the magazine you will eventually 
come upon an editorial by Steven Levy (pg. 47).  After reciting the usual 
bullshit distinctions about ÒchildrenÓ vs. ÒadultsÓ (a distinction based not 
on actual experience but on revolutions of the earth around the sun), he 
writes the following:
         ÒAlso criminalized are communications deemed Ôannoying.ÕÓ  In other 
words, if you complain to Senator Exon (about anything) he can now put 
you in prison!  (Under this bill.)
         Levy also throws light on the fact that the Internet is a threat to the 
newly-deregulated cable, phone, movie, and television companies.  Note 
that, UNDER THIS BILL, cable companies ARE allowed to sell ÒexplicitÓ 
programming.  Meanwhile, you and I go to jail for writing about the same 
thing.  Is this because the cable companies made large cash donations to 
Senator Exon, while you and I could not afford to?  So if you write about 
sex with your wife, within the context of marriage, you go to prison for 
two years and are fined $100,000.  Meanwhile, Scum U.S.A. is permitted to 
sell non-stop, gut-wrenching, explicit porn, courtesy of your local cable, 
satellite, T.V., and telephone company.
         THANKS, Senator Exon.  Now we KNOW where your true interests lie.

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