Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 78 Friday August 11, 1995
alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
watermelon moon
Part Twenty-One
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Fifteen
"Lie down, dear, over the arm of the couch, that we might begin,"
Lisa said gently. Susie stiffened as Lisa and Ann made to push her down.
"If I'm to submit, I'll do it with class," Susie said suddenly. She
turned about on her heels and walked firmly away from the sofa over to
the cocktail table. There a surprised girl handed her a glass of champagne.
All eyes were transfixed on Susie as she accepted the glass and put it to
her lips. Susie tilted her head back and drained over half the glass'
contents. She licked her lips and, casting her eyes over the men, strode
back to the couch. She bent forward over the arm of the couch, like a diver
about to spring into the water.
"What perfect form!" a man exclaimed. Susie stood perfectly poised,
her arms extended beyond her head and her cheek and breasts just touching
the leather. Ann undid the clasp of her bra and slipped it off her arms.
This was the most modest way to undress, after Susie's nipples were
already pressed teasingly into the leather, just out of sight. Similarly,
her pussy thatch was now against the rolled arm of the couch, awaiting
the descent of her panties, secure in its proximity to the couch from
prying eyes.
Lisa lowered Susie's panties and the girl lifted each of her heels in
turn so that the lacy material might be removed. A general gasp went up
from the guests at the sight of her lovely bottom. Susie hoped she
produced a twinge of jealousy in the ladies present. Then it occurred to
her that any such jealousy might be avenged with a cane, and she felt
scared. But the warmth of Lisa's hands, wet and soapy, came in contact
with her bottom and caused such fears to flee. The feeling was delicious,
and Susie couldn't help but wriggle her heinie slightly in response.
"What a bore! Some girl gets her bottom washed, so what?" Dick
cried.
"Yeth," Cindy agreed, lisping. She raised her face from Dick's
shoulder. "So what? I wash my bottom every night!"
"But it's being washed for a caning," Lori protested. "And you didn't
even let me get to the best part, the part where Lisa tells Susie that no
washing is complete without an enema, a soapy tube enema that's gently
inserted up her bottom to make her totally clean!"
"Well dear, I would have liked that part," Bob consoled his wife,
patting her.
Dick gloried in the feeling of both Cindy and Willette on either side
of him, each competitively fondling him. And now it was his turn to tell a
story. "My turn!" Dick hollered. "And I want both you girls to listen," Dick
said, looking first at Willette and then at Cindy.
"Yes, Dickie," Willette said, nuzzling him.
"Yeth, Dick," Cindy lisped. "And you can wallop my heinie if I don't.
And wash it too, before you wallop it." Cindy giggled.
Chapter Sixteen
Dick gazed at the moonbeams anointing his two girls. Each so lovely,
so young, one more dominant, the other just a shy child. He felt inspired,
and from the very tableau he found himself in he wove the essence of his
story:
The giant 747 Jumbo Jet trundled across the open sky. Above stars
gleamed with the steady brightness known only to travelers of the upper
atmosphere. 30,000 feet below, its depths waiting silently for the next
victims of a terrorist bomb, lay the vast expanse of the Pacific ocean.
It was the L.A. to Hawaii flight. Five long hours of boredom as the
jet plunged across the night sky. Angel awoke to find herself snuggled up
against the man beside her. She lay for a moment with her eyes still
closed, savoring the feel of the man's warm body against hers. His name
was Rick. She knew no more. She had heard his wife calling him that. The
wife, named Sandy, sat on the other side of Rick.
Angel felt delightfully wicked as she pressed her voluptuous 17-
year-old body against Rick. The man was big and strong, and seemed quite
wealthy. She had found herself longing to have him for herself from the
moment he and his wife had asked to step past her to assume their seats.
Angel had seen how the man had noticed her long, bare legs, her superbly
jutting breasts that came to braless points beneath her blouse. Rick's
wife had quickly taken charge of his attention, occupying him with her
thoughts on the contents of the in flight magazine.
Angel lifted her head from Rick's shoulder and stretched blissfully.
Finally she turned toward Rick and opened her eyes. The man was awake!
He looked at her with a gentle smile.
"I wish I could catch some shut eye," Rick said.
"Oh, was I bothering you?" Angel asked with a slight blush. "I didn't
mean toÑ!"
"Not at all," Rick said. "I have a lot of trouble sleeping on planes,
that's all." Angel stole a glance past Rick at his wife. Sandy lay pressed
up against his other shoulder, sound asleep.
"These seats are so small these days," Rick said. He put his hand
onto the armrest that separated his seat from Angel's. "Would you prefer
it if I pushed this back?"
"Oh, no! Please! I'm having enough trouble staying off you as it is!"
Angel said. Rick pushed back the armrest with an air of easy manliness.
In her heart Angel thanked him.
"Why don't you try it without the armrest?" Rick said. "You can
always push it back down again." A welling up of emotion passed between
them as they looked at each other in the dim light of the cabin. Suddenly
they were no longer strangers. They were co-conspirators in an erotic
interlude.
"Well, if you insist," Angel said. She pressed her back firmly against
her seat and looked over at him with strands of her tousled blonde mane
falling over her eyes. "But you may find me falling all over you in my
sleep."
Rick reached out and put his arm around her. He had broken the ice.
He was taking charge. "Just relax and get your shut eye. You may find
yourself having a big day tomorrow."
"That's true," Angel observed with a lisp in her voice. She curled up
against Rick once more, taking even more liberties with his shoulder than
she had before. "You never know what the day has in store for you."
"My wife and I are going to a cabin up in the mountains on Maui," Rick
offered.
"A cabin?" Angel asked, closing her eyes. "That sounds delightful.
I'd like to stay in a cabin in the mountains someday...especially on Maui.
I'm going on to Maui myself, though I've only got reservations in a hotel."
"Are you traveling with someone?" Rick asked.
"No, my stupid boyfriend dumped me just before we were to leave,"
Angel said. "But I wasn't going to let him stop me from having a great trip
to Maui."
"He dumped you?" Rick asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.
"Yeah, he was married, you see," Angel breathed.
"Oh," Rick said. "Older than you?"
"Yes, for some reason I like older men better," Angel confided. "Boys
my age are just, well, immature. And usually broke." Angel drew back an
inch and looked up at Rick. "I hope your wife won't mind that I'm sleeping
on your shoulder."
"Not in the least," Rick said. He patted Angel on the back of her head,
urging it back down against his shoulder. "My wife's ten years younger
than me, actually. I guess she likes older men too."
"Mmm, that's nice," Angel lisped. "How old are you?"
"I'm 34, my wife's 24," Rick said. His hand still lay upon the back of
Angel's head.
"I'm 17," Angel breathed, and gave a youthful wriggle as if to
emphasize the fact.
"I thought so," Rick said. Angel wondered at his statement. Did he
"think so" because of her appearance, or because of her personality? Was
she no more than an immature teen herself, just like the boys she decried?
"Perhaps you'd like to do some touring around together," Rick said.
"That's very kind of you," Angel said in a sleepy voice. "I'd love to."
"What hotel are you registered at?" Rick asked.
"The WindWater," Angel murmured.
"Hmm, that's on the other side of the island from our cabin," Rick
observed.
"Rats," Angel said.
"Have you always really wanted to stay in a cabin?" Rick asked.
"Of course!" Angel said, sitting up, but with her hands coming to rest
on Rick's thigh. "You will show me your cabin while we're there, won't
you?"
"Of course!" Rick said. "In fact, if you want to save some money
you're welcome to sleep in our cabin's spare bedroom."
"Wouldn't your wife mind?" Angel asked. Her eyes were wide and
innocent.
"Not at all," Rick said. "We've got a large, spacious cabin built for an
entire family. We're thinking about having kids, you know. You could be
our pretend daughter."
"That sounds fun," Angel said. "You're old enough to be my father, you
know. I kind of wish you were. My parents got divorced when I was little
and I haven't seen my daddy since. Apparently, though, he was only 17
when I was born."
"Young marriages do tend to fall apart a lot," Rick said. "Well, for
your safety if nothing else I think it might be a good idea if you stayed
with me and Sandy." Suddenly Rick sounded wonderfully paternalistic,
just like he really were her father! "Young girls travelling by themselves
can sometimes fall in with bad people."
"You're right," Angel said, snuggling up against Rick once more. "I
hate being by myself, anyway. I'm sure I'll have much more fun with you
and Sandy."
"It's settled then," Rick concluded. "You'll stay with us."
"Mmm, goodnight," Angel said.
***
Making Sandy's acquaintance proved easier than Angel had expected
it would be. Despite a difference of seven years, the two of them proved
to have much in common. Or perhaps Angel was just stretching her own
appraisal of her maturity. She found herself looking up to the young
woman. Sandy seemed like an older sister, and Angel found herself
wanting to imitate her; found herself using Sandy as a guide for how to
act.
Angel glanced over at Sandy as the three of them waited for a cab.
Somewhere deep down in her mind a portion of her was wondering how the
three of them could go touring together if Rick didn't rent a car. Well,
perhaps Rick and Sandy took cabs everywhere. Sandy was standing a few
feet back from the curb, a small suitcase by her feet. She looked
wonderfully sophisticated in her designer sunglasses. Her hair was
perfectly in place, despite her rest on the plane. Her ample cleavage stuck
out nearly as far as Angel's, though it wiggled less, being caged in a bra.
Angel hoped she looked as confident and sexy as Sandy when she was 24.
The ride to the cabin proved to be a long one. As Angel stepped out
she heard Rick tell the driver to pick them up in four days, at the same
time. Well, it made sense to arrange the pickup with the same driver.
Perhaps they had a car of their own here in a garage. Angel scanned the
cabin and saw neither.
Tropical trees arched in over the cabin. It was built of wood logs.
Angel felt her pulse quicken as she stood before it. The cabin was so
quaint, so romantic! Little white trimmed windows were set in its walls.
Frilly lace curtains hung inside the panes of glass. A door with a brass
knocker on it seemed almost to beckon her forward.
"Can I knock the knocker?" Angel asked when Rick had escorted her
and Sandy to the door.
"Sure," Rick said, and Angel gave the hanging brass handle several
vigorous knocks.
"Open up!" Angel cried, though now Rick had already unlocked the door
and it stood open. She gave the door a final knock with the knocker and
then skipped on inside. She felt delightfully young and protected. Perhaps
her boyfriend's leaving her hadn't been such a bad turn of events after all!
***
"When Rick first brought me here he made me be his love slave,"
Sandy said as they sat that night in the darkness of the living room,
around a crackling fire. They sat on a bearskin rug, Sandy poking at the
logs in the fire with iron tongs.
"What's a love slave?" Angel asked, even as her mind raced with the
possibilities.
Sandy looked at Rick with eyes of a doe. Rick smiled. "The girl is
forced to obey, to be a slave to love."
"What was it like?" Angel asked Sandy anxiously.
"A little scary, at first," Sandy said. "Rick put a collar on me and
told me to do just what he said. Then he thought up all sorts of things for
me to do just for his wicked pleasure." Angel put a hand to her throat.
Imagine, being a slave to that big hunk! Her little body totally at his
command. She had been forced to be a servant to boys once, in a
treehouse, when she was 6. They had made her suck their penises and had
put their hands all over her body. When they finally let her go she had run
crying home to her mommie. But when she got home she only told her
mother that she had fallen.
Sandy nudged a log in the fire. It fell from an angled position to lie
flat on its back. The three of them sat wrapped in flannel bathrobes.
Underneath they were naked. After a long day of hiking through the
uninhabited woods that surrounded the cabin, Angel had showered first,
followed by Rick and Sandy. She wondered if they had made love in the
shower.
"Have you ever been a love slave?" Sandy asked Angel. Her tongue
touched the inside of her upper teeth as she finished speaking. Her lips
remained parted.
"No," Angel breathed. When she had sat down she had not bothered to
tuck her robe under her heinie. The fur of the bearskin tickled her bottom.
"Your boyfriend never took you that far, eh?" Rick smiled at Angel.
"No, he was kind of boring," Angel breathed. She looked at her little
bare feet, poking out the bottom of her long robe.
"Would you ever like to be a love slave?" Sandy asked.
"I've always said I'd try anything once," Angel said. The conversation
was developing an undeniable air of passion. The coziness of the cabin
didn't help. Angel's eyes flicked up at Rick. His robe was open. His hairy,
sculpted chest stared out at her. Sandy's robe slipped from one of her
shoulders. The declivous slope of her breast was uncovered. Sandy leaned
forward to poke at another log. Her robe's left side slipped down farther,
baring her nearest breast to Angel.
Earlier Angel had asked Rick if he had a car here. He had said no.
She had asked about a phone, but they didn't have one of those either.
Sandy sat back on her haunches. She looked Angel squarely in the face.
Rick's eyes were steadily upon her.
"Being a love slave is no easy matter," Rick said. "Have you had
experience with S&M before?"
"You mean, like being tied up and stuff?" Angel asked in a meek
voice.
"Yes, like that," Rick said.
"No, I've only had conventional sex," Angel said in almost a whisper.
Sandy wriggled her bottom over next to Angel's. She reached up and
grasped the neck of Angel's robe on either side. "Let me see if you have
any scars," Sandy said quietly.
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
I AM PROTECTED
by me, holy joe
Yes, it is true. I am 54 years old. I have never gone out on a date. I
MIGHT go out on a date, but my parents are worried that I might not be
protected if I went out of the house by myself. I carry a beeper-alarm at
all times to ensure my complete protection. A stranger might sneak into
our happy home, you know, and molest me. There is a 62-year-old lady
next door and she gives me leering looks whenever I go outside to rake the
leaves or mow the lawn.
If you are a youngster, donÕt worry, there are advantages to being
protected. My parents know what is best for me, and I agree with their
Òprotection planÓ completely. ItÕs cool to follow the rules, you know.
Also, you donÕt have to exercise much or earn any money or anything.
Mostly I just sit around the house watching T.V., waiting for my parents to
die so I can inherit everything. Sometimes my friend Holy Shit comes over
and we shoot drugs together and praise Jerry Garcia.
I have subscriptions to all the girlie magazines, so IÕm busy a lot of
the time in my bedroom, making sure I can still get it up and off (if you
know what I mean). Sometimes I am busy jerking myself off when my dad
asks me to water the plants. I admit it, I have some faults. I get very
annoyed at having to interrupt my Òreading.Ó So I usually just urinate out
the window, and manage to hit most everything that needs watering.
I have a large gun collection. Since Oklahomo blew up IÕve been
experimenting with mixing gasoline and dog doo-doo in the bathroom. It is
ClintonÕs fault that I am not protected enough to leave the house. If we
lived in a society where children are safe, I could go out and meet girls or
play at the playground or something. Clinton has been president for
almost four years now, so it is his fault that us children are not
protected. He can no longer pass the buck to George Bush. I have a poster
of Tim McVeigh on my wall and worship him every morning when I get up.
Maybe between me and McVeigh, we can wake Clinton up and get him to
protect us children properly.
DonÕt worry, I wonÕt do anything illegal. The last time I left my
bedroom was in 1988. I have a little refrigerator up here and my mom
restocks it whenever she vacuums. But I want to know what to do in case
Clinton ever visits our house. Carter used to do that sort of thing. Then,
if he comes into my bedroom, I can tell him: ÒClinton, either you get busy
protecting us children or I am going to blow up this dog doo-doo, O.K.?Ó
That should get his attention.
Anyway, I want all America to rest assured that I, holy joe, am
protected. You donÕt have to worry about me. If you feel your children are
unsafe, I recommend to parents that you have your kids adopt the Òholy joe
lifestyle.Ó It is sort of like the Playboy lifestyle, except itÕs updated for
the 90Õs. You get to have lots of girls, but they all come shrink-wrapped
in plastic. And lots of booze and drugs too, provided you have an
(unprotected) friend like Holy Shit to bring the stuff by. Other than having
odd fantasies about wanting to blow up people with gasoline and dog doo-
doo (which my parents disagree with), it is a pretty good life.
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Andrew Roller. Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF 78 EMISSION