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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
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Chapter Twenty-One
Tiffany called us together late the following afternoon. We gathered
around her in our bedroom, clutching our bottoms, still so sore. She
smiled at us. I knew what she was thinking. With our own dainty and
vulnerable bodies we had met the Mexicans on the uncompromising field of
love and somehow bested them. The callous Mexican ladies, forced to
watch us fuck ourselves on the cocks, robbing them of their moment of
greatest pleasure. And the hard-hearted aristocrats, denied the more
ruthless rape that the elder grandee would have insisted upon. It was
luck, mostly, I guess, with a little pluck on our part at the very end.
ÒIÕm very proud of you all,Ó Tiffany said to us, herself a little
sheepish. ÒAnd myself, too, I guess. I finally got over my fear of being
taken in the ass.Ó Lightly she spread her bottom cheeks, reflexively. ÒBut
we must go.Ó
ÒYes, we must go,Ó we all agreed, massaging ourselves in behind
even as we pooled our minds to the thought of escape.
And the next day we made good our escape. We got hold of a van,
with the help of a male laborer. He piled pillows into the van, on all the
seats, so we would have comfy chairs for our still-smarting/stinging
asses.
Our clothes had been stolen, down to the last string bikini. Master
feared we might leave after our basement-fucking. He had all our clothes
removed, whether purchased by him or by us. He hid them away where we
could not find them. He allowed us only to wear tennies and t-shirts.
Bare bottomed, we nonetheless boarded the van. We would not be
dissuaded from our escape. Tiffany got in the driverÕs seat and brought
the engine to life. The laborer made sure the coast was clear and we left
the estate, rolling quick as we could across the clipped grass. Our blonde
heads bobbed all too visibly in the vanÕs windows. Our eyes were furtive.
Yet, somehow, we reached the jungle, passed on, sped through the
village, and moved out into the countryside. Tiffany pressed hard on the
gas all the way. The jungle gods must have decided to let us go, I told
myself, for the odds against us successfully fleeing were high. Five
bosomy white girls in t-shirts and sneakers were not a common sight in
rural mexico. Or anywhere else. Especially girls without panties.
Later we found two American hitchhikers along the roadside. More
luck, a gift from well-pleased gods. It was the gods of the Indians, I knew
then, the gods of a race that lived here long before the Spanish arrived.
Yes, they were the true owners of the jungle, not the grandee or his son.
They had accepted our offering in the village square, they had given us rain
then to cool us, loving our bodies, touching them with their wet downpour.
Perhaps they had even seen us in the grandeeÕs basement, down in the
bowels of the jungle, buried in a chamber in the very earth itself. We had
performed well there, giving ourselves up to the hard, indriving cocks.
Mine had been made of rubber from the jungleÕs rubber trees. The gods
themselves had fucked me, not Mistress. With their own implement they
had fucked me.
The hitchhikers got us home. Across the American border, and on to
wherever we needed to be. For Tiffany, it was back to Columbia, back to
Elizabeth. She could give ElizabethÕs passengers every part of herself
now. And I knew Elizabeth would encourage her to, now and then, easing
the guidelines for her most special passengers. Some of the other girls
went with Tiffany, others went back to their suburban homes in AmericaÕs
heartland. Lost little girls suddenly ÒfoundÓ and returned to thankful
parents.
For me, it was back to Argentina. I made a new life there for
myself, working for the Argentinean government once more. It turned out
I still had connections. My English misadventure was passed off as the
best attempt a 15-year-old girl could make. I was even thanked for my
efforts, and given a small medal.
Perhaps someday I will return to America. Perhaps when I have a
child. And I will have a child soon, I hope. Well, not too soon, maybe. But
while IÕm still young. I want to be a young mom, a mom in my 20Õs. You
get along better with your children that way. Yes, I shall have to find a
ÒMr. RightÓ for myself and be a young mom. Someday soon.
THE END
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copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF story EMISSION