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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
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Chapter One
In my mind I tried to imagine what it would be like. I lofted my
hands above my head. The chaise lounge stuck up above my head and I
rested them there, along the top, crossed my wrists and pretended they
were tied to it. I dropped my legs down on either side of the chaise
lounge. I arched my pussy forward.
I gazed up at the sun, feeling its warmth, my eyes closed. I'd just
slipped off my bikini bra a moment earlier and my breasts, full and
firm, peaked toward the sun. Only my bikini panties remained to
protect me from Phoebus. Hotly he breathed down on me, but a cool
breeze, sent by some sympathetic goddess, wafted up around me.
In my imagination I left the sun behind. It was nighttime now,
and I was at a party. Kimber was there. She owned the chaise lounge I
was lying on. She'd slipped away, leaving me by myself by her pool, but
in my daydream she was right in front of me.
"So glad you could come," she whispered, her eyes holding that
worldly gleam. I knew what was expected. A butler appeared, holding a
silver tray. A little pile of female underpants were stacked upon it.
Pink ones, yellow ones, frilly ones with little bows. I slipped my hands
beneath my miniskirt. Reluctantly I pulled my own undies down my legs
and added them to the pile. Kimber smiled her approval. She took me by
the arm, led me in to meet the other guests.
An even number of men and women, give or take a few, chatted
amicably in the hotel suite's living room. The women were all young,
with Kimber, at 22, representing about the average. The men ranged
somewhat older in age, starting at the mid-twenties and going as high
as 50. I was received warmly by the nearest couple. We spoke a
moment, then Kimber and I moved on, exchanged small talk with other
guests in turn, Kimber graciously introducing me to each of them. I
was the youngest, at 15. My face, angelic, with soft pink cheeks,
looked 12. But there was no doubt my body could hold its own against
any of them. The swell of my breasts was prominent, provocative. My
mother said they were much too big for my age. My legs were sleek and
long and seemed to rise up until they disappeared somewhere in my
ribcage. Barbi was not an unsuitable name for me. People said I looked
just like her. My hips, I suppose, could have been fuller, but my bottom
was well-fleshed, sticking out round and saucily like some apple
desiring to be polished.
As Kimber threaded me through the guests I studied their mouths.
Most women wore light shades of lipstick, glossing their pretty lips.
Their teeth were small and dazzlingly white, tongues flitting within as
they spoke. Each one would sup upon my pussy this evening, Kimber had
promised, for this was a Pussy Party, where the most private part of
the body was given prominence. There were no "ass men" or "leg men"
here tonight, but rather those who prized a woman's cunt above all else.
And there were a few women here too who shared a similar obsession,
particularly the older ones. The youngest females present were all
here "to show," as it was artfully said, and had been selected for the
beauty of their dells.
I sensed movement. My eyes popped open, into the glare of the
sun. My hands shot down to my pussy and lay protectively upon it, only
then realizing that I still wore my bikini briefs.
Kimber stood under the shadow of a tree, observed me with a sly
smile. I felt embarrassed, realized my titties were bare and were
being squished upward between my closely drawn arms. My nipples
stuck up, fully erect, excited. A cool breeze caressed them.
"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I think I already know..."
Kimber said, her voice trailing off softly. I flushed, felt butterflies in
my stomach. "Such a sweet little virgin," she said, and sauntered over
to me. She plucked each of my hands off my crotch. Lightly she stroked
my mound, tenuously covered by my panties.
"D-Don't," I breathed, trembled, arms at my sides. My breasts
shivered as I spoke. I replaced my legs on the chaise lounge. They
looked like long sticks of cinnamon stretching down away from me,
straight, with two wiggly sets of toes at the end. Kimber sat down
beside me on the chaise lounge, her hand still caressing my virgin loins.
I should have squeezed my legs tightly together, but I didn't. I left my
thighs parted slightly. My breasts wobbled nakedly on my chest as I
took a breath and exhaled it with a shudder.
"You mustn't expose them to direct sunlight," Kimber said, looking
at my boobs. "Men prefer them white. Put your bra back on." She urged
modesty upon me even as her fingers danced upon my dell.
I fetched my bra from where it lay beside me. I leaned forward
and covered myself with it, reaching behind myself to tie it. Kimber
smoothed my bikini between my loins, watching my face and tits with
her eyes. "I'm having a party tonight," she said. "Another girl your age,
less developed, might be too young for it, but you are full grown enough
to come. You must not deny yourself any longer, Barbi. Your time has
come. You must join the adult world and take your place in it."
"I'm saving myself for marriage," I pouted defiantly, finally
getting my bra back on, straightening the cups with my fingers.
Reluctantly I saw that my mother was right. I would have to buy a new
swimsuit. My chest had outgrown this one, just like the others, filling
the cups to the bursting point. It had happened every summer since my
twelfth birthday. I'd start with a decent bra, but by late summer I'd
find I could not get myself properly covered anymore. My boobies would
bulge out around the desperate cups, showing off much more than the
swimsuit's designer intended. I hoped this didn't go on too much longer.
I'd wind up in the Guiness Book of World Records.
"Tsk! Marriage!" Kimber announced dismissively. She tossed her
head. Her hand still played upon my mound. She gazed into my eyes.
"Even your bra knows you're a big girl now," her gaze seemed to say.
"I'm still not coming," I said aloud, as if in answer. "And take
your hand off my twat." She lifted her fingers, but placed them
alongside my hip, where my bikini panties were tied. Her other hand
took up a position on the other side of my hip. Lightly she toyed with
the bows which kept my panties tied on. "You wouldn't..." I said. She
tugged at the drawstrings, just a little.
"Will you come to my party?" she asked.
"I would, If my arrival didn't mean I'd have to come again."
"Oh, yes!" Kimber said happily. "All night, in fact. It's what the
party's for, you know. But no one will fuck you, unless you want them
to. Except, of course, with their tongues." She tugged on my
drawstrings a little more. My nipples indented the cups of my bra,
forming tiny tents.
"My mom wouldn't ever let me hang around with you if she knew
about your parties," I threatened. Kimber laughed.
"Helga? I could tell you all sorts of tales about your mother
Helga." A shiver ran up my spine. My parents had been killed in a car
crash when I was eight. Their close friend, Helga, had adopted me. I'd
heard stories, dismissing them out of hand when I was a little girl,
about the parties Helga had invited my parents to. And they hadn't
turned down her invitations. But no, it couldn't be, could it? I could
hardly imagine my mother, naked, bucking, rearing, attended upon by
men in a lavish hotel suite somewhere, others looking on, or fucking,
my father working himself into a new young virgin, maybe, someone
like me, while my mother was pinned down, pinned within her pussy.
Yet my mother (I sometimes called her "my first mother" now), had
been very beautiful. And my father handsome. They would not be easily
missed, easily passed over in a crowd, at a party. They would not go
without invitations to undress, to show their assets, to love and be
loved in turn. But the other kids I played with had pretty moms too, and
tall, strong fathers. Surely they could not all be up to such things, in
one way or another? And Helga herself seemed a very picture of virtue.
She was always getting after me about my clothes, making sure they
weren't too immodest. It bugged me sometimes, but I suppose, walking
to school each day, a girl had to be careful. Not a day went by that, no
matter what I wore, I didn't have men and boys gawking at me. The
younger ones actually drooled. I swear if it wasn't for the security
patrol in my neighborhood, I wouldn't have made it to school a single
day this year without being raped.
And now it looked as if Kimber herself, my best friend, wanted to
rape me. Our eyes clashed. I could have reached up and grabbed her
bikini bra, yanked it down, or grabbed her own panties, but I wanted to
defeat her with my will. It seemed as if Phoebus himself was staring
down, urging her on. I knew she was no lesbian, save, perhaps, for the
pleasure of men. She wanted what was best for me. Though, at times,
it might be hard, might hurt, I knew that, just from talking to the other
girls at school who'd already done it. But none of them had a friend like
Kimberly, so far as I knew. Perhaps that was what had drawn me to
her. She seemed just like me at times, young and careless, and then, at
other times, a woman, sophisticated, even cunning.
Suddenly, with flashing fingers, she slipped the ties of my
panties. I gasped. "No," I said. My panties lay across me, undone, but
still covering my pubis.
"Alright," Kimber said, rising of a sudden to her feet. Her long
golden hair swished against her back. Her tushy, barely encased in
swim briefs, bulged wantonly, temptingly.
"My panties..." I began.
"Tie them up yourself," she said, and strutted off in her high
heels. She crossed her immaculately manicured lawn in silence, the
grass absorbing the sound of her shoes.
***
I tossed and turned that night in bed. I wondered what I'd be doing
now, if I'd accepted Kimberly's invitation. Or, rather, what would be
being done to me. I tried to picture the men at her party. I knew they
must be very handsome. And wealthy. They would relish a young
schoolgirl like me. They would be thoughtful, and kind, and gentle, but
firm, oh so firm. I wanted them to be firm. Somehow I fell asleep at
last. I woke up shrouded in melancholia.
"You look a trifle gloomy today," Kimber teased me when I stopped
by her place after school. I plopped down at her kitchen table. Four out
of five days at school were "uniform day," and this was one of them. I
wore my regulation white blouse and plaid skirt, kneesocks and clunky
saddle shoes. Kimber, as usual, was dressed ravishingly in the latest
fashions. Even her casualwear was up-to-the-minute fashion plate.
She had on a sleeveless denim jacket and matching miniskirt, with only
a flimsy see-through bra beneath the jacket. It was a jacket, not a
vest, for it had a collar. A denim engineer's cap with a shiny silver
buckle perched jauntily on her head.
"I'm still saving myself for marriage," I said sullenly.
"Of course, dear," Kimber replied. She sat down across from me
and began spooning her way into a piece of strawberry cream pie. Her
parties kept her from ever having to watch her weight. "Get some if
you want it," she said.
I rose to slice myself a piece of pie and then wondered if she
meant the pie, or the party? The pie, of course, but...
Sitting across from each other we ate the pies, and I knew there
were men in this world who would have delighted in watching us. I
rimmed my upper lip with my tongue, trying to clear it of whipped
cream, succeeded only in smearing it. Kimber looked up and I saw she
had a cream mustache too.
"So what do you want to do today?" Kimber asked, plucking a fat
strawberry from atop her pie and popping it in her mouth. I watched,
copied her. I copied Kimber in lots of things, I knew. Deep down I
envied her, the bold, casual air she had about sex, the way she could
twist men around her little finger. They did not scare her. More likely,
she scared them.
"There's a park that just opened. I hear they have some cool
rides," I said.
"Okay."
"Can I wear something of yours? I don't want to go in my
schoolgirl clothes."
"It won't matter if you're just going to ride the merry-go-round."
"Bitch," I said. Kimber laughed, tossing back her head, deliciously
carefree. "You know I'm not going just to ride the merry-go-round," I
scowled.
Kimber said no more. She'd shot me with her bow...again.
***
Dressed in a midriff and jeans I strolled through the park with
Kimberly. I was wearing jeans of hers that had fit her several years
ago, the pants fitting snugly against my immature hips. My tanned
tummy, smooth and bare, caught men's eyes as we passed, my belly
button winking surreptitiously at them. A girl's body sometimes sends
signals she herself would never approve of, but cannot help. My boobies
jiggled within the confines of my half-tee. It was tied off just below
them in a cute bow of white fabric. The shirt was sleeveless. At
Kimber's insistence I wore no bra. I prayed to God I didn't spill
anything on my shirt. Carefully I sipped on a coke.
"Mmm!" Kimber said, pointing, her mouth full of ice cream.
"Not the log ride," I said. Those things always ended in a big
splash. She took my hand anyway, tugged me forward.
"Be bold," she said, winking. And indeed she herself was, with her
see-through bra peeking out between the partly unzipped halves of her
jacket.
We entered the ride and sat down. A big log enclosed us, four
abreast. I sat beside a man who was not unconscious of the dare I was
about to make with the water. He, and his wife beside him, smiled at
me.
"To be young and free," I heard his wife say in Spanish. I was
pretty good in Spanish, even though I went to an American school. Some
of the other kids snubbed Spanish. They were military brats, or the
children of American executives, hating Buenos Aires because it wasnÕt
Phoenix, then going back to America two years later and hating Phoenix
because it wasnÕt Buenos Aires. I didnÕt mind fitting into the local
culture, learning the language. I seemed brighter than the other kids at
school, and my beauty, which some called extraordinary, seemed to
distance me from the other girls. The boys, I knew, only had one thing
on their minds when they sidled up to me. So I mostly ignored them.
What fun is the chase when youÕre hounded on all sides, but every dog is
a Beavis or Butthead? Maybe that's why I got on so well with Kimber.
Even here, in Argentina, I had only a desultory relationship with my
schoolmates. Helga and I had lived here for awhile, then in America,
then in Europe, then back here again. This time I'd started school here
at mid-year, when the other kids had already formed into groups and
cliques. So I was alone, mostly, though now I had HelgaÕs friend
Kimberly to keep me company. And, once, IÕd met another friend of
HelgaÕs, named Julie. They seemed to have shared an adventure
together once, when Kimber and Julie were still teens. Now they led
separate lives, mostly. They all had come into money, claimed it was
from modeling, but had no photo albums or scrapbooks they could show
me.
I turned around, gazed behind me. Were any of my schoolmates
back there? Nope. Not even any members of my Beavis and Butthead
fan club, with their ever-present hopeful glances. They were probably
at home, surfing the web, while I prepared to surf my way into a splash
at the bottom of the log ride. Too bad. They would miss out on a treat,
if I lost my bet with the water. Secretly I wished some of my female
rivals were here, seeing me with my ultra-cool female friend Kimberly.
They would be extra jealous if they saw me with her. We were a
knockout together, no questions asked. I liked how men thought I was
somehow older when they saw me with her. It was as if her presence
gave them permission to talk to me. I liked that. Only thing was, what
would I do, if they wanted to do more than talk? I didnÕt know.
Kimberly would sometimes go out with one of them, someone weÕd met
that day, at the mall or someplace, and IÕd lie awake that night, at
home, jealous, wondering what it would have been like if IÕd been her,
and she me. ThatÕs why sheÕd been inviting me to her parties, lately, I
knew. To resolve my doubts. To answer my curiosity. But, God! It was
like, Òif you come, you must participate.Ó I couldnÕt just...come. Or,
rather, I couldnÕt just Òattend.Ó I couldnÕt just be a little girl, a little
squirrel, seeing others do things and then refusing to partake myself.
If I wanted that sort of party, I could stick to church socials and the
lame Beavis meets Airhead high school parties, Kimberly said. No, if I
went to one of KimberlyÕs parties, I would have to be part of the group.
I couldnÕt just watch, I couldnÕt exclude myself, I couldnÕt be half-in
and half-out like I was at school. I had to be one of THEM. In this case,
one of the adults. Or, rather, one of the girls Òcoming outÓ into the
social world of adults. I glanced at Kimberly. Damn you! So smooth, so
light-hearted, and so self-assured. Were you ever 15, Kimberly? Were
you ever like me, caught between the somnolence of childhood and the
confidence of adulthood?
The log slid up a long, seemingly precarious ramp, giving us a
view of the entire park. Happily Kimber pointed out to me where we'd
bought our Cokes. The fat boy was still there, serving customers,
begging with his eyes for sex as he filled girlsÕ requests for drinks and
hotdogs. We'd had quite a laugh between ourselves after leaving his
stand. "Minus Ten," we nicknamed him. Poor soul. I doubted he'd ever
get invited to a Pussy Party.
I gazed at the other rides, wondering which one I'd like to go on
next. Kimber seemed to be doing the same. Then I remembered my
blouse. We were almost at the top of the ramp now, and there was a lot
of water down below.
The grinding of the ride's wheels ceased. The wind whipped my
long hair. We were poised atop a great hill made out of steel tracks. I
could see the curlicues of track below, each a thrill of its own, each
with its own special quality. Suddenly in my mind each was a different
party, with its own special perversions, its own unique sexual
satisfactions. My breath caught in my throat. I held it in. My breasts
seemed to bulge within my shirt. The log teetered atop the hill. A ride
of terror and pleasure awaited us. I felt myself on the precipice,
suddenly, between childhood and adulthood. Kimber took my hand,
squeezed it reassuringly. The log lurched forward and we began our
descent.
****
"She was lucky she had long hair," I heard Kimberly laughing. She
was retelling the story of my adventure upon the log ride. Of course, I'd
lost the bet with the water. My blouse had been soaked. I'd had to
spend the next fifteen minutes walking around the park with my hair
carefully placed over my breasts, worrying at every gust of wind. A
few times the wind had won and my pink nipples had been revealed to
passersby, beneath my wet tee. When we went to buy more Cokes, the
wind had bared me right in front of the fat boy. I think he closed his
stand and spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom.
The couple before us laughed gaily. I had finally said "yes." It
was two weeks later, and now I was here, at one of Kimber's parties. A
Pussy Party, no less. At least it wasnÕt a ÒBottom Party.Ó IÕd heard
men had a predilection for removing their belts at those, and not for
the purpose of dropping their pants.
Uncomfortably I was aware of my nakedness beneath my skirt. It
was short, a mini. Fortunately I didnÕt have a hanky that I might drop. I
prayed no one would ask me to bend over. It had been bad enough, at the
door, slipping out of my undies, with everyone watching, coyly. Then IÕd
watched other girls come in behind me, women mostly. TheyÕd slipped
out of their panties so demurely, as if at FrederickÕs, finding what
theyÕd tried on had been a little too tight, perhaps. A little too small
even for their tastes. Except this wasnÕt a private dressing room
inside FrederickÕs. This was a full-fledged party, a social affair, with
men in three-piece suits looking fine and handsome. What would my
mother say if she knew? Helga, my second mother. Fortunately she
was out of town for the weekend. I had no father to look after me. I
gazed at the man standing before me. He would be about my father's
age, I thought, if my dad were still alive. Gently he appraised me with
his eyes. He wanted me in a way my father never had.
"Surely everyone is here by now?" I heard him ask Kimberly.
"Yes, I'm quite certain they are," she replied. She clapped her
hands for everyone's attention. "Let's go into the study," she said. She
led the way then, taking me firmly by the hand. My skirt flipped up as I
walked, hips rolling, flashing the tops of my creamy thighs at the
guests who followed us. I was the prize of the evening, and I would be
first.
I would never have agreed to come to one of Kimber's parties, I
don't think, except that she'd caught me smoking pot three days ago. I'd
only taken it up recently at school, to try to get along better with the
other girls, who'd enticed me into it in the bathroom. Kimber had
gotten quite angry with me when she'd found me smoking it, behind
some bushes by her pool. She'd said that sex was healthy and drugs
were not. If I wanted to grow up I should go to her parties, she said,
not turn into a pothead. She'd said that my body was changing and it
was indeed time for me to grow up, but not into drugs. She'd threatened
to tell my mother unless I decided to take my place in the adult world
as I should, as a young, fertile female.
So now, a roomful of eyes on my barely covered bottom, I stood
hand in hand with Kimberly contemplating the centerpiece of the party.
It was an innocuous wooden stool, placed before a ladder that served to
give access to a wall full of books. But I would not be standing on the
stool, or climbing the ladder to fetch a book. Nor would any of the
other females tonight. Those of us chosen for the task were to each sit
on the stool, in turn, to be eaten.
Kimber placed a soft satin cushion on the stool. A maid, clad only
in an apron that stretched from her neck to her thighs, tied the cushion
to the stool with a length of soft rope. Kimber lifted a pillow from the
floor and set it against the ladder, to protect my back. The maid tied
this off also.
"Undress and sit down, Barbi," Kimber invited. Self-consciously I
wriggled out of my black lycra top, sending my boobies flying as I
pulled it up over my head. The guests gasped appreciatively at the
beauty of my mammaries. I shimmied my skirt down, letting it pool at
my ankles. Then I stepped out of it, wearing only pumps. I tossed my
hair back, attempting an air of casualness. Yet everyone knew I was a
virgin.
"You have a very cute bottom," I heard a girl say behind me. Her
name was Debbi. She was a little older than me and I'd just been
introduced to her a few minutes earlier. We'd seemed fast friends from
the moment our eyes met. She followed me over to the stool and when I
turned to sit down I saw that she'd peeled off her own top. Silently I
thanked her for joining me in at least a partial display of her own
nudity. Her sumptuous breasts bobbed enticingly as she helped me sit
down on the stool. When I was seated I was to stretch my legs out
before me, and put my feet into stirrups mounted on the floor. They
were widely spaced and could be cranked upward, I was told, to loft my
feet as high into the air as anyone might wish. Right now they stood
about a foot off the floor, on slim metal posts.
When my bottom was comfortably poised on the cushion, Debbi
knelt and buckled each of my feet into the stirrups. Kimber, meantime,
surprised me by shedding her party dress. Underneath she wore only a
garter belt and stockings. At her urging I lifted my arms above my
head. She pinned my wrists to a rung of the ladder and the maid tied
them off with a rope.
I wondered idly what a bottle of honey was doing in the library.
Shaped like a teddy bear, it grinned down at me from a shelf above.
Perhaps someone was going to have a crumpet. Kimber picked it up. My
breath caught in my throat. She lowered the squeeze bottle to my open
mouth and lightly squirted. A stream of honey hit my tongue, lolling
unselfconsciously on my lower lip. My mouth opened wider, surprised.
She squirted more vigorously. Someone giggled. Was it me? More
laughter, Kimber laughing now. She made to coat my lips with honey.
Some missed, going too high up, giving me a cleft palate of honey, then
too low, dimpling my chin. Debbi shrugged off her skirt. Silk panties,
too small, traversed her waist, barely covering her pubis. She slaked
her ardent hands on her thighs, seeming to want to thrust them
between, rub herself. Her eyes gleamed at me. She laughed, intensely,
like a child barely able to contain herself with the apprehension of
what must surely happen next.
Giggling, hands tied above me, I tried to clean my mouth with my
tongue. Kimber lowered the squirt bottle to my laughter-shaking boobs.
I watched wide eyed as she deposited a dollop of honey on each nipple.
The clear, sticky amber fluid slowly engulfed each stiff teat and then
dripped a drop onto my thighs. The bottle trailed down my smooth
tummy, anointed my navel, then moved lower to poise itself at my
pussy.
Kimber eyed me, smiled, returned her gaze to my twat. Someone
was going to have a muffin, all right. Mine. With a fresh squeeze she
fired at my clit. I flinched as the stream struck home. I oozed there,
honeyed in more ways than one, suddenly very aroused. Debbi bent low,
clasped her hands about my waist, palmed my bottom firmly. She
scooted my bottom forward on the satin cushion. Then she eased my
knees farther apart. Kimber bent low and really let me have it this
time. She coated my cunt lips all over with the honey. Then she
introduced the tip into my virgin twat. I shuddered. My chastity was
slipping away. A fusillade of honey spurted up me where nothing ever
had before. A tremble passed over Kimber and she seemed to want to
fuck me with the honey bottle's little tip. But the poor bear was just
too small, even for my tight little cunt. She filled me as best she could
and then withdrew. She lifted a hand and brushed back her mane of
golden hair, a picture of pure, decadent sophistication.
"Who will be first?" she asked, turning to the guests. Her shapely
bottom bulged nakedly at me. Naughtily I wondered what it would be
like to shoot honey up her ass.
A young man strode forward, long hair, a modern Jim Morrison in a
tuxedo. My spine tingled as I saw he had a day's growth of beard on his
chin. He would be...bristly. With an eagerness he tried to mask behind
an air of casual disdain he got down between my legs.
Kneeling, I thought. You're kneeling before me, aren't you, big boy.
Roughly he pushed my thighs farther apart. My ankles strained in their
stirrups, held fast. Worshipfully he bent forward, extended his tongue.
I broke into an uncontrollable shudder as he pushed his stubbly face
right between the innermost portions of my thighs. My eyes closed. I
grimaced as I felt a lick. Right where it counted. Right on my clit.
He was slurping soon, sucking all the honey from my twat with
exemplary vigor. Some little part of me was still sane, could remark
upon this, but most of me had spun suddenly into a whirl of pleasure. I
humped him, moaned, cried louder. Never before had I been eaten! I was
the outcast, the beautiful loner, the girl boys never dared ask out,
though they spurted joyfully at my passing, peering at me from
restroom windows. I saw them again in my mind, a pair of eyes, maybe
two pair, leering at me from some high half-opened window, intended
to provide ventilation to boys pooping in the john. And then,
sometimes, a crash! The bent-over boy, the one providing a platform
for his buddies with his back, got a little too excited at their
breathless descriptions of me.
I'd always been excited by their watching, though I didn't let on.
Now I had a whole roomful of eyes staring at me! And this time no
flights of fancy were required to imagine me without my clothes. I had
none! The very thought sent me shivering over the brink.
Next I knew Kimber was patting, stroking my head. I was gasping.
The man was gone, but another approached. "Please," I mouthed,
meaning to say "Please, no more," but the rest didn't come out.
"Yes dear, here's another one," Kimber said consolingly. An older
man approached. He got right down on his knees and thrust his face into
my beaver. The dam of my hymen strained as he sucked at me like a
vacuum. Was he trying to deflower me with his breath? He was doing a
good job of it. His mouth went to work then, munching merrily at my
virgin cuntlips. He urged more of my natural honey from me.
Kimber bent forward and engaged my open, swooning mouth.
Absently I let her kiss me, French kiss me, licking away all the honey
with long, lingering strokes of her tongue. Then she and Debbi each
captured one of my wobbling breasts and set about cleaning my honeyed
nipples. I shrieked as the mouths plundered my most intimate regions.
Gulping in air I screamed as only a virgin can, tasting the fruits of
adulthood for the very first time. At last, trembling, the girls and the
man left me.
I must have looked a wreck, makeup smeared, long hair tousled,
my breasts and snatch gleaming wet. The partiers seemed not to mind.
They gazed at me approvingly. I was still virgin, still tied, able only to
move my hips, my head, my bosoms. Another came forward, this one a
woman. She was elegant, wearing a long, flowing sequined party gown.
She eased the garment's spaghetti straps off her shoulders. It
shimmied down as she knelt, bringing forth to my gaze a sumptuous
bust. She must have been close to 30, yet her tits stuck out as proudly
as any high school girl's. Nakedly they shook their fulness at me. She
took up position between my thighs. Her dress bunched at her waist,
leaving her own pussy covered.
"No!" I said. I cast my eyes wildly at Kimber. To be eaten by men
was one thing, bad enough, but a woman?! I couldn't. She thrust her
face forward. It was smooth against my thighs. I had no choice.
Long nailed fingertips expertly spread me. My tightness was
stretched open, pulled apart. Was this some gynecological exam for
virgins? Then her tongue, soft, probing. Deep it went, tasting my
hymen, relishing it. Not often, I was sure, did these guests get to taste
such a rare flower. How long would I remain so? Men were disrobing
now, I saw through bleared eyes. Enormous pricks sprung eagerly into
the study's stuffy air. Women cooed at the sight, let themselves out of
their own clothing.
Perhaps virgin boys watched X-rated movies as they dreamed of
their adult futures, but a girl like me never had. I was shocked,
frightened even, as I saw for the first time what grownups did in their
spare time. Nay, not their spare time. This was prime time. All else
was mere resting between bouts in bed. For young adults work was the
resting place, the bedchamber at night the place of labor. The young
men and women around me got down to business, inspiring the older
men, who soon joined them.
Debbi was brushing one of my nipples with her fingertips, idly,
like some child toying with a button. Her other hand stroked her inner
thigh repeatedly. Kimber walked over to her, embraced her from behind.
Debbi offered her lips, tossing her head back over her shoulder. They
kissed, long and luxuriously. Then, holding Debbi from behind, Kimber
glanced over the little brunette's shoulder and pulled open the front of
Debbi's panties. Both of them looked down for a moment at the pretty
thatch inside. They smiled. Kimber took Debbi's hand and placed it
within Debbi's opened panties. The girl shivered thankfully. She began
rubbing herself where it counted.
Sweet, musky odors began assailing my nostrils. Something I'd
only ever smelled with myself before, when I became too urgent in the
middle of the night, alone in my bed at home. The scent of love. And a
new smell, that of the male! I relished it even as I cringed at its
pungency. Not the odor itself, I guess, as much as what it meant.
Thousands of little white fish-tailed men being loosed right here,
within the book-lined walls of this staid study, only feet from my own
womb. There was no going back from this, I knew. That male odor
would draw me in, fish to the fish-men. My hymen was an endangered
species.
Kimber stepped away from Debbi. She reached up to a shelf, drew
down another incongruous item for a study. It was a little whip. For
ponies perhaps, or dogs. She reached out and drew down the back of
Debbi's panties so that they bunched under her bottom. Newly exposed,
I saw in a mirror their whiteness. They jiggled slightly, as Debbi
masturbated. A flick of Kimber's wrist then and the whip went sailing
in to strike across the trembling globes. Debbi bit her lip, stifled a cry.
Yet with her free hand she did not try to protect herself. Kimber
rimmed her lips with her tongue and struck the girl again, harder.
"Ooo!" Debbi yelped, choking off her cry in what I guessed was an
attempt to be a good girl under the sting of the lash. Someone had told
me once that girls must strive to keep quiet during a whipping, hadn't
they? Or was I just imagining such things. What did I know about
whippings? My mind trolled through the chatter in the girls' locker
room. Whispered passions, shared amidst giggles, perhaps I'd overheard
it, dismissed it at the time as utter nonsense. Now it came back to me,
full force. And something else also.
Sometime during my half-remembered imaginings the cultured
woman at my snatch had become satiated. A man stood before me now,
presenting his thing boldly. He seemed not to want to kneel. Ah! No!
Could it be? The male seed was drawing nearer. My lips, yes, he
wanted my lips, but not my well spread virgin ones down below.
"Have you ever sucked cock?" he husked. He was young. His dick,
unmilked yet, wiggled frantically. He was certainly no slouch when it
came to looks. Had he saved himself for me? Amidst the moans all
around us he presented himself to me then, eased my teeth apart with
his fingers, pushed the rubicund tip right between my lips. It settled
on my tongue. I tasted precum for the first time. It drooled within me,
pooling in the back of my mouth, running down my throat in light
trickles.
"Suck," he commanded, jutting his chin out. I looked up at him. My
eyes met his. He would brook no disobedience, I knew. My mouth closed
reflexively, fearfully upon him. With his palms he stroked my blushing
cheeks. Still staring up at him I began suctioning his tool, his very
manhood, the soul of his being throbbing wetly in my all-enclosing
orifice. Yet some of him remained without, in the cool dry air. He
wanted that in me too. Pushing forward he made me take more of his
stem. I felt his cockhead bump the back of my throat. Kimber left off
her whipping for a moment to snap a picture of me. I saw it later, my
cheeks bulging, eyes popping, as the big cock was forced more deeply
within, still half at least luridly poised without. Crisscrossed with big
blue veins, the penis arced through the air. It looked, I thought later,
like a dolphin, its ends concealed but its back arching in the gleaming
sunlight. No head, no tail, just the powerful arching back and belly.
Like a dolphin in mid-dive. Except the head of the cock was banging
against the back of my throat.
"More, you can take more," Kimber urged. She smoothed her hand
across my forehead. My cheeks collapsed and I sucked deeply upon the
rod. I choked, gasped, my mouth opening, my breath flowing out around
it. He eased gently back a bit, I thanked him for it with my eyes. But
then he shoved forward again. I would not be let off so easy.
"Practise," Kimber said. She returned to Debbi. The brunette was
weeping and thrusting her bottom out. Both her hands were jammed
between her thighs.
"Yes, the air is nice and cool, isn't it?" Kimber asked her. "But I
am not going to let you feel only the cool air just yet. A few more
strokes are in order for a bad girl who plays with herself, yes indeed!"
And DebbiÕs waggling hiney, so desperate to cool its fiery surface, was
assailed yet again by KimberÕs whip.
My lover plumbed my depths, urging himself more and more into
my throat, backing off only when I choked and then driving forward
again. I sucked now out of desperation, hoping against hope to bring
him off and end this suffocating torment. He grinned down at me and
told me I was doing a good job. He ran his fingers through my hair. I,
who had been so haughty, as some of my classmates imagined, an "ice
princess," was now reduced to a gagging wench. I wished I could bring
my hands to bear upon him, but they were tied uselessly above my head.
Only my mouth could bring him off, my novice mouth, which at the park
had slurped dreamily upon a cherry popsicle, imagining. Now I had the
real thing, and it didn't melt, no matter how much you tongued it. But it
might, it SHOULD, at any rate, deflate, if only I knew how. Something
about butterflies surfaced in my subconscious and my tongue leapt.
The man felt me against the underside of his cock and he
trembled. My first sign of hope. I looked up at him. He seemed to be
arguing with himself. Something told me that if I could get my flitting
tongue under the head of his penis, he would be through. But the head
was back, too far into me. I looked at him with appealing eyes. He
wanted that virgin tongue of mine right where it counted most, now
that I knew how to use it. Giving up on plundering my throat he pulled
out partway, until his cockhead rested upon the tip of my newly trained
tongue.
I didn't waste any time seizing my opportunity. My tongue
titillated his most sensitive spot like a little Amazon in heat. I let my
lips part and heard a rapid, lapping sound. My man shuddered. His face
became haggard. He didn't want to cum and yet he must! Oooh, yes,
baby, you are mine now, totally within my power. I am the cat that
freezes the mouse with its gaze. He grabbed at my hair. His hips
bucked. But he never let himself stray from my wicked tongue. Right
there, under the cockhead, where a man loves it most but can stand it
least.
"Oh, God, no!" he cried. Had he been promised more than just my
mouth...if he could hold it? Too late! My first taste of sperm burst into
my mouth. It felt like Old Faithful was creaming me. His cum geysered
down my throat, hot and sticky. I moved my tongue more rapidly,
delighted at my triumph.
Slowly, slowly then he began to limpen. With a toss of my head
finally I got my mouth free of him. He wanted me to lick him until he
came up again but, though tied, I gave him a sullen, defiant pout.
Kimber intervened then and thanked him. His manhood deflated, he
withdrew, giving me a last hopeful look over his shoulder before being
welcomed back into the crowd by an eager woman.
Kimber smiled at me. She kissed me on the lips. "Well, you've
been a busy girl today." She ran her hands through my hair, combing it
with her fingers. I smacked my lips, amazed at the semen smeared all
over them, the goo coating the inside of my mouth. My tongue wanted to
stick to the roof of my mouth.
"If you like the white stuff, we've been invited to where there's
lots more of it. The Andes, as a matter of fact, to a certain
gentleman's chalet,Ó Kimber grinned down at me. ÒPractise on a few
more men tonight and then we'll get some shut eye, and leave in the
morning."
30
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-END OF story EMISSION