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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PARTY PUSSIES
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Chapter Four
I fell asleep with a cock up my belly and awoke with yet another one
in my nest. There was almost no relief for me, though, in retrospect, I
must say that despite the number of the men on the bed I was treated
mostly kindly. I awoke to find a man humping me and, feeling a new sense
of arousal, I let myself move with him, lifting my hips as he drew away
and sobbing out a sigh as he brought himself down, cutting me open with
his hard cock. I was experienced now, yet still tight, awkward. Yet I
lifted my legs and drew them around his hips, encouraging him.
My breasts felt perky with the morning, yet sore. I brought my
fingers to them when the man, lifting them, left a space between myself
and him. A female I did not know, lying beside me, lifted her head. She
urged my new lover to allow her face to come between his chest and mine.
He permitted it, being arched to accomodate his larger frame to my small,
13-year-old body. In the gap created by his arched back she placed her
head, and she suckled upon my breast much as Vanessa had, though, being
soft and slumbrous with the morning, she did not bite at me, merely
sucked and licked.
I was brought off under my new lover. He withdrew. The womanÕs
mouth remained. She turned her face and lay with it resting upon my
breast. She licked less now, simply letting my risen teat poke within her
mouth, sticking up within the corner of her mouth, resting her cheek on my
plump bosom. I liked having her there, for some reason. I did not know her
name. I stroked my fingers through her long hair and felt strangely like a
mother.
My womb felt full. I thought at first it was my belly, from eating.
Then my tummy told me it was hungry from my exertions and I realized
the fullness I was feeling was within my place where babies grew. I must
have had a dozen menÕs spunk in there, I feared. I hoped IÕd taken a pill,
but couldnÕt remember if I ever had. Perhaps one had been slipped into my
wine glass at dinner. I hoped so. IÕd drunk my wine obediently. It had
been poured before I arrived at the table.
With soft tongue-licks assailing one of my breasts, I managed
nonetheless to lift my head. The bedroom was a sea of bodies. They were
everywhere, and as I peered at them through sleepy eyes I realized there
was a great deal of wetness between my legs. I guessed I must be lying
now with my hips in a veritable pool of sperm. My cunny burned, both on
the outer lips and within, where nothing, before last night, had ever
touched me. I felt a fullness in my bladder and realized I must pee soon.
I was afraid to get up. I was afraid to look at myself between my
legs. I knew there was blood there, from my first penetration, last night,
by Brendan. It was dry by now, I assumed, and I was well-coated with my
own juices and menÕs sperm. Yet I still feared to take charge of myself
and deal with the fact that I was no longer a virgin.
I cast my eyes about, looking for Bethany. I spied her curled up,
quite happily, on a round pink rug on the floor, some distance from the bed.
I saw light whip marks on her bottom. I could see her fig peeping back at
me between her thighs. Yet she moved, even as I first set eyes on her,
wriggling like a dog in a happy dream, so that I saw her face, her bottom
disappearing underneath her. There was a big grin on her face and she
seemed to mouth the word Ômore,Õ with her lips. Then her mouth stopped
moving, her smile faded, yet there remained just a trace of it. I was glad
her bottom had survived the night. I reasoned that she must have found
pleasure, tied over the trestle, after the whip had warmed her heinie. How
many men had she taken? I could not know. I guessed she herself did not
know.
Finally I raised myself up. Carefully I detached myself from the lips
and teeth of the woman who still licked lightly at my nipple. I managed to
crawl from the bed, going over several bodies of big men and two supple
women, including the one whoÕd sucked most recenly at my breasts.
Finding the floor with my feet, I got down from the bed. I looked for
Steve. He was lying asleep in a corner. I was relieved to see there was no
dildo stuck up his butt. His legs were apart and his cock was shrunk to
normal size. He looked exhausted in his sleep, as if heÕd had the workout
heÕd always wished for, forced to fuck every female in the room. Then I
saw brown stains on his dick, and knew heÕd been put up at least one
bottom too. I hoped it had been a female one.
I made my way from the bedroom into the hall. Someone had
removed my heels, though I still wore my cufflinks and my bow tie. I
looked around me. Where was the nearest bathroom? I stumbled with
stiff legs down the hall, burning in my loins, though pleasantly, until I
came upon a room with a toilet in it. I realized then that there had
probably been a bath attached to the bedroom IÕd been in. I scolded myself
for walking so far. But then I felt glad because the bath attached to the
master bedroom had probably been used by everyone during the night
except me. This bathroom, down the hall, remained pristine. I settled
myself happily on its toilet and felt warm pee immediately escape from
between my legs.
To my surprise, just as I finished peeing, Bethany walked stiffly
into the bathroom.
ÒHurry up! I have to go too!Ó Bethany said to me.
ÒI thought you were asleep,Ó I said. I put my fingers between my
legs, held my lips apart to pee.
ÒI was. But your foot kicked me awake,Ó she frowned.
ÒOh, sorry,Ó I said. I remembered that, in stepping over her, I had
indeed stubbed my toe on her soft hips.
ÒAh, girls, there you are,Ó Eveline, stepping in behind Bethany, said.
She had tousled hair, completely undone and free. Bethany, not knowing
the woman had followed her, turned abruptly about.
BethanyÕs small hands flew to her bottom.
ÒOhhhh, I donÕt want any more WHIPPINGS!Ó Bethany said in a high
voice.
Eveline laughed. ÒI am not here to whip you, darling, but to see that
you both go upstairs after you pee.Ó
Still rubbing her bottom, Bethany said, ÒI donÕt want to do anything
more that you tell me.Ó Yet her voice sounded hesitant, as if she feared
crossing the woman.
Eveline stroked the girlÕs very messy hair with her fingers. I saw
there was sperm in BethanyÕs hair and realized there was some stuck in
mine too. We would need a good shampooing, not just a bidet, to get all
the menÕs love essences off us.
ÒI must clear the house, dear. It wouldnÕt do to have you two
delectable little ex-virgins loitering around downstairs,Ó Eveline said.
Bethany, still holding her bottom, but with her pubis thrust ungainly
forward, as if she wished Eveline might pet the hair between her legs,
said, ÒOhhh, but I want to kiss Victor goodbye if he must leave!Ó
I did not know who Victor was. A man whoÕd plumbed her depths, I
guessed, making her happy when she most feared to be made sad.
ÒYou have many men to meet yet, my dear, and all of them handsome.
I donÕt want you dawdling over any particular one just yet,Ó Eveline said
to the girl. And she did indeed put a hand down between BethanyÕs legs,
and tickle her slit, but the girl immediately drew her hips back, sharply,
for she didnÕt really want her nest petted, only stood that way
inadvertently.
ÒOh, you are so MEAN!Ó Bethany whined. She spun about, clapping her
hands again over her bare bottom as she turned her ass to the woman.
Then she traipsed over to the potty I was squatted upon. ÒHurry up!Ó
Bethany told me. ÒElse IÕll sit on your lap and pee on you!Ó
Tenderly, carefully, I wiped myself between my legs. I felt normal
there, a soft gap, albeit a little sore. Bethany, watching me, wiggled her
ass most distinctly, needing to pee. She kept her hands over the cheeks of
her heinie and cast a worried look back, once, at Eveline, to make sure the
woman wasnÕt plotting against her bottom. Eveline looked at herself in a
bathroom mirror mounted over the sink and passed her fingers back
through her unkempt hair.
We peed, all three of us, Eveline last. Then she took both myself and
Bethany by our hands and led us down the hall, away from the bedroom. We
mounted a flight of stairs at the back of the house.
ÒWill we get pregnant now?Ó Bethany asked, meaning, I guess, if we
already had or not. But Eveline did not reply to her question.
The day passed. I heard people leaving downstairs as Bethany and I
lay soaking in our tub. We slept a little, had breakfast downstairs after
everyone else was gone. Malthus and Steve did not appear at the table. It
was just me, Bethany, and Eveline, plus a middle-aged maid who served us.
Even Linda did not pop by. I wondered if perhaps Brendan had taken her
home with him.
Sleeping again, we woke and spent late afternoon swimming out
behind MalthusÕ house, in his pool. We wished to skinny dip but Eveline
made us wear bikinis. She said she did not wish for our breasts or our
bottoms to be tanned. We played in the pool until sundown and then had
dinner, just the three of us again, the maid serving.
Within the house Bethany and I were required to be nude. Eveline
gave no explanation, simply insisted, and we obeyed, knowing she could be
rather handy with a switch, if we refused, for it was she who brought a
glow to BethanyÕs bottom over the bedroom trestle on previous night.
Bethany and I took a long bath after dinner and then, sitting downstairs
naked, by a fire in the living room, we played cards with Eveline. The maid
remained always in attendance, and fetched for us whatever our appetities
might wish in the way of snacks. I found it easy again to sit on my
bottom, though it was still marked in places. BethanyÕs whipping had
faded completely and I wished Eveline had whipped me instead of Brendan.
Except for the memory of Brendan imprinted on my fanny, I thought
little of him anymore. It was as if I was in a special world, just Bethany
and Eveline and I and the maid, and I liked not having to dwell on anything
or anyone. I gazed into the fire. It was warm and lush and I liked the
crackling sound it made as it slowly consumed the big logs in the hearth.
At first IÕd felt odd, being in the house without Malthus. I feared I might
round a corner and bump into him at any moment, or Steven, and I assumed,
for awhile, that one or both of them might be watching us. But Steven
appeared to be quite gone, perhaps taken home by a lady. Malthus,
wherever he was, was not bothering Bethany and I, and I enjoyed after
awhile the feeling of complete freedom, with nobody apparently in the
house except Eveline and myself and the maid and Bethany.
Bethany and I had the run of the house. Eveline did keep quite a few
of the rooms locked, so that Bethany and I could only explore the more
public areas of the house. I twisted a few of the locked doorknobs,
wondering what was inside those rooms, but I was not too curious. My
bottom was still tender enough to keep me cautious.
Another day passed. Again Bethany and I ran about the house nude,
and swam in the pool in our bikinis. I liked our swimsuits. Mine was a
tiger-print Bikini and Bethany wore one with little polka dots on it.
Eveline had given them to us, knowing our sizes, somehow. Perhaps
Malthus kept swimsuits in the house for all sorts of girls, plus cufflinks,
and bowties, and (hopefully) panties and bras too, for my own clothes that
IÕd arrived in had disappeared. So had BethanyÕs.
In the evening we played cards again. We played pinocle and, because
Bethany like it, we also played fish, though I thought the latter rather a
childish game. Bethany wanted to play war too, but Eveline said weÕd be
up half the night if we got into that card game. So instead it was pinocle
again, after weÕd played several hands of fish. Then Eveline had the maid
put Bethany and I to bed.
ÒSleep well, dears. WeÕll be going into town tomorrow, to shop, and
perhaps to do a little visiting also,Ó Eveline said to us. I guessed from the
sexy warmth in her voice that we might meet men too, and experience
once again the unique sensation of having them up within our bellies.
ÒOoooh, I donÕt want to get fucked again,Ó Bethany whispered to me
as we lay in our bed together. The maid was gone, our light was turned
out, except for a small nightlight glowing by the door.
ÒYou know you do,Ó I said. I stuck my tongue out, licked her chin.
ÒDonÕt,Ó Bethany told me.
ÒDream about penises,Ó I said to her, teasingly.
ÒNo, I canÕt have any more of those. IÕm going to be a nun,Ó Bethany
said. She paused. ÒI got an ÔAÕ in Ôgood touch, bad touchÕ at school, you
know.Ó
ÒSo did Mother Theresa,Ó I said. I rolled away from her. I put my
hands between my legs and felt my slit. It was warm, but somehow
empty-feeling. I knew I was wicked as I lightly brushed my fingertips
across my spot.
ÒDo you want to play with ourselves?Ó Bethany asked beyond my
shoulder. I imaged her fingers were between her legs now, as mine were.
ÒNo,Ó I breahted. But I gasped a little as I rubbed myself more
completely. I heard a catch in BethanyÕs breathing.
ÒEveline will whip us if she finds us diddling our slits,Ó I said.
SheÕd warned us downstairs, playing cards, not to frig ourselves in our bed
after our lights had been turned out.
ÒI know,Ó Bethany answered. ÒThat whip HURTS!Ó Yet even as she
spoke I heard her breath catch again, and I knew my nipples were stiff
because, not in spite of, EvelineÕs threat.
Suddenly our bedroom door opened, just a crack, letting the light in
from the hall. Bethany and I made a rustling sound, under the sheets, as
we quickly drew our fingers up away from our snatches.
ÒGirls, are you behaving?Ó EvelineÕs voice called from the hall. I
saw her eyes peer in at us.
ÒYesÕm,Ó Bethany and I chimed. I felt silly, like a little girl, yet
hadnÕt I just been babyish, diddling my slit when I knew I shouldnÕt?
ÒGood, because thereÕs a trestle downstairs for naughty girls and, to
be quite frank, my fingers are itchy tonight,Ó Eveline said, in a voice that
sounded quite honest.
ÒWeÕll be good!Ó Bethany assured her in a high-pitched, childÕs voice.
Yet even as she spoke I felt my own fingers stealing down my tummy,
towards my legs again.
Eveline closed our door.
ÒWe must gag ourselves,Ó Bethany said to me, frankly.
ÒYes,Ó I gasped. It was strange, her suggestion, yet I knew there
were cloth gags stored in the top drawer of our dresser. If we couldnÕt
keep our fingers away from our slits, why not at least protect ourselves?
As the evening deepened I could hear Bethany, her breath puffing
behind her gag, as mine was, as we each frigged ourselves with wild
abandon in our bed.
In the morning the maid found our bed was moist in places, and
smelled of excited females, but thankfully she didnÕt report us to Eveline.
I stood in the bathroom brushing my hair. I looked in the mirror,
wished I was older. My cheeks puffed with my youth and my face was
round, almost oval. I had red in my cheeks, not from pinching them.
Bethany sat on the toilet. She was humming a tune. SheÕd long since
finished peeing, and appeared not to need to poop, but she sat there
anyway, as if trying to expel all the man juice that had been pumped into
her two nights ago, and had now long since been rinsed out or absorbed.
Perhaps she was attempting to regain her virginity.
I looked at her. She swung her feet back and forth, banging her heels
against the porcelain bowl of the toilet. There was an absent look in her
eyes.
ÒDonÕt watch me while IÕm peeing,Ó Bethany said to me.
ÒYouÕre not peeing. YouÕre just sitting there,Ó I said. I felt a soft
excitement between my legs and wondered if she felt it too. I guessed she
did.
ÒWeÕre lucky the maid didnÕt tell Eveline we masturbated,Ó Bethany
said to me. She swung her legs, her feet small and bare and her toes
nicely painted with red nail polish.
ÒOnly boys masturbate. We frigged,Ó I answered. IÕd learnt that in
school, though I didnÕt necessarily believe it, though I sometimes did,
especially when speaking of such things out loud. It sounded like such a
horrid word, Ômasturbate,Õ reminding me of sperm-swamped teenage boys
hiding all alone in their closets with Penthouse, while I skated down the
street outside, wishing I had someone to play with.
ÒWell, itÕs the same anyway,Ó Bethany said. ÒWe were naughty.Ó
ÒI had a strange dream,Ó I said. My hair was bright and glossy from
brushing, like deep-hued gold. Bethany, her hair white as silken corn
stalks, looked up at me curiously.
ÒWas I in it?Ó she asked.
ÒYes, you were,Ó I replied.
ÒWhat was I doing in it?Ó she asked in her high voice, inquisitively.
ÒYou were masturbating,Ó I replied.
Bethany leaped from the toilet. She darted across the room and, as
sheÕd been holding a teddy bear while she peed, she swung the bear at my
nude bottom and swatted me with it.
ÒOh!Ó I cried. But it was just a button-nosed bear, all furry, and it
didnÕt really hurt.
Bethany tromped out of the bathroom, the balls of her bare feet
smacking loud against the tiled floor. I thought of my dream again,
looking once more in the mirror. In my dream IÕd fallen down a rabbit hole
and woken up in a can of Pepsi. Yes, it was Pepsi, I recalled, for it had a
lemony tang to it, inside, not oily like Coke had. It may have even been
suger-free Pepsi. But there was a curious thing about this can of Pepsi,
for it was in space. It was in outer space, out beyond the comets, and it
was 22,000 miles wide. I couldnÕt remember how long it was. As long as
a can of Pepsi would be, I supposed, if someone had widened it until it was
22,000 miles wide.
A voice drifted across my thoughts.
ÒHurry,Ó it said. ÒWeÕre going hiking.Ó
I turned. Malthus was in the door. I smelled persimmon on the air.
He extended an umbrella to me. ÒThis will keep you from getting wet if it
rains,Ó he said. I took the umbrella, looked down at my breasts. They hung
naked on my chest. The teats were uptilted, fresh and young, the breast
nipples pink, and I thought how curious that was, for I was 10,843 years
old.
ÒAnd a half,Ó a small voice piped up. I looked, but did not see
Bethany.
ÒSheÕs sleeping in the bedroom,Ó Malthus replied. ÒJust you and I
will hike today. Tomorrow I will kill you.Ó
ÒNo!Ó I said. But I knew it must happen. My chest felt tight, though
it was only a 13-year-oldÕs chest.
ÒYou sound as if the data files might be erased,Ó Malthus laughed. I
saw a girl pass the doorway to the bathroom. She looked like me. She was
me, I realized, and then another passed behind her, and another.
Malthus looked back over his shoulder.
ÒI like having you around,Ó he grinned, when his face turned back to
me. ÒBut only you have the data files.Ó
ÒAnd only through my 13th birthday,Ó I answered.
ÒYou erased the rest,Ó he answered.
ÒI did not want to remember all 10,843 years of it,Ó I answered.
ÒBut you are not 10,843 years old anymore,Ó Malthus said.
ÒNo,Ó I answered. ÒIÕm 13, and every week you kill me and then clone
another copy of me, and download new files into my brain so that IÕll
remember again who I am.Ó
ÒThrough your 13th birthday,Ó Malthus answered.
ÒYes,Ó I said, as if in a dream.
ÒBut I have kept track of the time,Ó Malthus said. ÒYou are close to
20,000 years old now, though after the 10,843rd year it was just cloned
bodies, cloned lives, dying each week.Ó
ÒNo,Ó I said. I turned from him. I lifted my brush to my hair. ÒIt
doesnÕt matter,Ó I said. I was alive, but just for a week, and then IÕd be
dead again, but resurrected, only to die again, for how long? For 10,000
years, over and over again, and when Malthus got too old he killed himself
and had one of the clones of me resurrect him.
A womanÕs skirts in the door. I turned, expecting Eveline, but it was
me. I was hunched and bent over with age, 90 perhaps. My knuckles stood
out like lumps on bony-fingered hands that looked surprisingly nimble.
ÒI did not wish to die,Ó a croneÕs voice said to me. It was me,
speaking to me, but she had chosen to live instead, and die naturally.
ÒHow can I be born again, in my 13th year?Ó I asked, for she seemed
to know much, and Malthus was gone.
ÒIt is full-growth cloning,Ó the old woman said. She seemed not to
mind being asked a question. She had nothing else to do, it seemed, save
to wander around the house, looking for answers in her old age that sheÕd
lose, when she died, for she had chosen not to make date files of her mind.
ÒI do not like this,Ó I said. I stroked my hair with my brush, making
my hair glow like KingÕs Gold, bright enough to lure Midas, and trap him in
his desires.
ÒThere is nothing else to do,Ó the old woman said. ÒWhat would you
have us do, hmmm? At least I had a full life, and am looking forward to
death, though you go on living, in the data files, even though you die every
week.Ó
ÒWe are immortal,Ó I said.
ÒYou are immortal,Ó she answered. ÒI have no data files preserving
my mind, and now IÕm going senile, forgetting... what was your name?Ó
ÒMy name is your name,Ó I answered.
ÒOh yes,Ó the old woman said, considering. ÒThe immortal girl. The
not-immortal immortal girl who preserves data files of her mind...Ó her
voice weakened. Her gaze wandered around the bathroom.
ÒBethany is sleeping,Ó the old woman said.
ÒI must wake her,Ó I told her. I swept past the woman, nude and
young in my body, while she was bent over and weak and wearing clothes
to hide her haggard body.
Malthus stood in the bedroom looking out the window. It was huge,
and I expected to see the Mexican desert outside, waterless. But instead I
saw we were up in the mountains, and dusk was settling in, and I could see
fairy lights out beyond the window, sprinkling fairy dust.
ÒWith fusion, anything is possible,Ó Malthus murmured, staring out
the window.
ÒYou made fairies,Ó I said. I crept up behind him and put a bare hand
on his shoulder. He wore black. A black cloak, a hood thrown back to
expose hair that had gone grey. He was letting himself age this time,
though next time he might go mountain climbing at 30 and choose not to
come back.
ÒLook,Ó he pointed. ÒDown by the river. ThereÕs a troll there now,
though heÕll only scare you.Ó He laughed. He looked at me. ÒUnless I say
otherwise.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I answered. I saw a troll down by the small stream that
flowed through trees down the mountainside. It was fishing, and looked
glum, for there were no travellers for it to scare.
ÒBethany came running up to the house scared out of her wits
yesterday when I first installed the troll, and she was crossing the bridge
to pick flowers,Ó Malthus said.
I wanted to laugh, but didnÕt. Bethany was like a small puppy, I
thought, amusing but tirelessly childish sometimes, like when a puppy
wets the rug.
But the mice would clean that up, wouldnÕt they? I could not
remember. At one time there had been no mice. Not helpful mice, anyway,
that picked up after you when you made a mess. At one time the mice had
been real, and a nuisance, and if you made a mess it was real too, not
something cleaned up so quickly you hardly noticed it. I longed suddenly to
go back to that world. But I couldnÕt, could I? That was a world where
death had been real, and wounds, and scars, until one day all those things
were banished...
I turned. Bethany lay nude in the bed. She shivered a little. Her
breasts were pink-tipped, like mine. She was just growing her pubic
curls.
ÒBethany, wake up,Ó I said. ÒWeÕre going hiking.Ó
ÒDonÕt wanna,Ó Bethany answered. I felt myself slipping. I was in
her dream, suddenly, not mine. We were in the gumdrop mountains, and it
was cold, but we were nude, for some reason, though we wore snowshoes.
The wind was crisp and too strong and it blew back our hair.
ÒThere! Can you see it?Ó Bethany asked. She pointed.
ÒNo,Ó I said. ÒWhat?Ó
ÒThe Candy Cottage, stupid,Ó Bethany said. ÒWhy do you think weÕd
be hiking through Candyland, and having to cross these big gumdrop
mountains, if it werenÕt for all the candy at the Candy Cottage?Ó
ÒOh yes,Ó I said. ÒBut these mountains are made of candy. We can
just eat them.Ó But I wasnÕt hungry for candy, and Bethany seemed set on
making our journey, despite the wind.
ÒI hope that darned dog isnÕt waiting for us in the lollipop forest,Ó
Bethany told me. ÒWe may have to hop on an ice cream sandwhich and
float across the marshmellow pond to get to the cottage.Ó
ÒBut IÕm not hungry for candy,Ó I said. There was a whine in my
voice.
ÒWell, I AM!Ó Bethany declared. She rubbed her tummy. It was flat,
though I suspected sheÕd been downstairs in the bed the night before, with
the guests, as IÕd been. Had we been in that bed only once? I couldnÕt
remember. Perhaps weÕd been in it many times, over the course of nine
months, but somehow weÕd both avoided getting pregnant.
ÒToo much candy to get pregnant,Ó Bethany said to me, quite
seriously, looking up at me with wide eyes. ÒAs long as we go to the
Candy Cottage each week we canÕt get pregnant.Ó She looked at my tits,
which were bigger than hers, but not by as much as she feared. ÒYou
should be little like me, then youÕd know those kinds of things,Ó Bethany
said with a self-satisfied smile. She stuck out her chest and showed me
her boobs, assuring me that if mine were just a bit smaller, IÕd be in the
same league as her, and know about the magic still that the Candy Cottage
possessed.
ÒBut we must watch out for the Troll,Ó Bethany said. ÒI met him
yesterday, for the first time, when I was trying to cross the bridge.Ó
I awoke from my thoughts. I was in the bathroom. I felt my feet.
They were firmly planted on the floor, and it was cold. Bare tile against
my bare feet. Outside I smelled the heat of the desert and knew I was in
Mexico again. Such a strange dream IÕd had. Off in space, beyond the
comets, in a Pepsi can that was 22,000 miles across and longer than I
could calculate. I brushed my hair back and was glad I was me again, in a
world where everything was still real. Though for how much longer?
Sheep were being cloned already, and monkeys too. Would they clone the
Monkeys next? I did not know. Perhaps John Lennon would rejoin the
Beatles, cloned back to life. We would dance in Shea Stadium, Bethany and
I, for the first time, to a band reborn from long ago. They would play
Sergeant Pepper for us, though theyÕd not written it the first time they
played in that stadium. I would leave when they sang ÒSheÕs Leaving
Home.Ó But I would remember to notice when the light changed.
There were no flies out here in the desert, or mosquitoes. Bethany
and I liked to wander at night in the garden. The petunias were just
blooming then, and the daffodils.
Strangely, although we wanted to go shopping, Eveline did not take
us. Instead we were kept, like pets, within the house. My dreams had been
scary but theyÕd not been devoid of their pleasures. I found myself playing
Monopoly with Bethany in the living room and felt rather bored. We were
both nude, our titties high and young on our chests, our legs youthfully
open, showing our slits to one another. We were not old enough yet to feel
a necessity of reserve. Bethany flopped on her belly. She tossed her play
Monopoly money onto the board.
ÒHere, you can have ALL my money for staying on Baltic Avenue,Ó
Bethany said. ÒI want WEAL money!Ó She pouted at me. I think she liked
being babyish sometimes, and she surely looked it at the moment. We
were near the fireplace. There was a bearskin rug which Bethany had
claimed for herself, saying she needed to keep her bottom warm, yet now
she lay naked upon the bearskin, looking like a newborn, while her white
ass stuck up quite exposed.
I think she was beginning to lust a little for men, as I was. She
looked sideways. Not seeing Eveline, she slipped her fingers under her
hips. She lifted her ass slightly as she put her fingers under her. I
suspected her fingers found a moist purchase between her legs.
ÒBethany,Ó I said in a warning voice. I held all my properties in my
hand, like cards, inspecting the rents due for each of them. None of them
were mortgaged. Bethany, though she owned Boardwalk and Park Place,
had mortgaged both of them, plus most of her other properties. She
complained that the game had no candy store one could own.
ÒThen youÕd get lots of rent from me,Ó Bethany said. She stuck her
tongue out at me.
I stood. I thought she would take her fingers out from under her, but
she didnÕt. I walked round behind her. Sure enough, there were BethanyÕs
fingers, stuck between her open legs, diddling her slit. She realized I was
on to her game and quickly closed her legs. But she left her fingers in
place.
ÒEveline, BethanyÕs frigging herself,Ó I called out.
ÒOoooh, you!Ó Bethany said. She yanked her fingers out from under
her and rolled quickly onto her back. I found myself staring down at her
muff. It looked sweet, growing in tight curls between her legs.
Eveline came into the room. She held a riding crop lightly, by one
finger. The crop was dangling off her finger by the loop at its tip.
ÒAre we being naughty?Ó Eveline asked. She looked squarely at
Bethany. The girl lay with hands uplifted, not quite sure where to put
them. Her fingertips appeared to have traces of moisture on them.
ÒYes,Ó Bethany said defiantly. ÒLisaÕs being a tattletale.Ó
Bethany tossed back her dark hair. She wore a long, flowing dress,
plus a vest, with a pearl necklace and ankle-high boots. It was a sharp
contrast to the enforced nudity of our own appearance. One, I knew, was
made to keep us always conscious of our place as newcomers at this
house. My nipples were stiff on my chest, as were BethanyÕs. EvelineÕs
might have been too, but they were concealed behind her vest and her
blouse and her bra. Her dress, clasping her tightly round her waist,
swished at her ankles.
ÒYou are lucky I have other plans for your little posterior,Ó Eveline
said to Bethany. ÒOtherwise youÕd find it quite pretty, in the mirror, a
few minutes from now, with blazing red stripes across it.Ó
ÒThen you have no way of punishing me,Ó Bethany said. She stuck her
tongue out at Eveline and put her hands directly to her thatch of venus
hair. Although she pretended to be only covering it, to be modest, I saw
the tips of BethanyÕs fingers slink down between her legs, where they
quickly began working again in her slit.
To my surprise, Eveline laughed.
ÒAre you that hungry for a man, little Bethany?Ó she asked. Bethany
blushed. I felt a desire on my part to place my own fingers in my slit, but
it seemed wrong. Bethany took her fingers from her pubis and lay with her
legs scissored apart on the floor. She pressed her hands into her belly.
She diddled at her navel with her pointing finger.
ÒNoooo, IÕm not,Ó Bethany said. Not facing punishment, sheÕd
suddenly reformed herself, as if the refusal of Eveline to whack her fanny
had take all the fun out of disobeying.
ÒGood,Ó Eveline said. She walked around the girl completely, as if
inspecting some new creature just born. Bethany lay wide-eyed, looking
up at the woman. ÒDo you want a baby for your belly, Bethany?Ó Eveline
asked.
ÒNo,Ó Bethany said.
Eveline knelt at the girlÕs head. Her knees opened and her long,
flowing skirts hung in folds between them. Eveline stroked her riding crop
across BethanyÕs bosoms. She caught at one of the girlÕs nipples with the
looped tip. Bethany, frightened of the crop, lay perfectly still. Yet she
had to breathe, and with every breath her bosoms were lifted up, where
they seemed to offer themselves to the cropÕs rigid shaft.
I thrust my fingers between my legs. I couldnÕt help it. The scene
looked quite erotic, and I watched with voyeurÕs eyes (and fingers). Little
Bethany was completely dominated by the rigid crop. It hung suspended,
like some awful promise, above her small, naked body. She trembled, yet
she seemed unable to take her eyes off it. She dared not try to flee it.
The slightest disobedient movement on her part promised to bring it
zinging down upon her. She had lovely, tender flesh. Anyplace it struck
her would leave a smarting, painful memory to keep her company all the
rest of the day.
Bethany had lovely, light pink nipples. TheyÕd contracted into twin
points and I knew they must be dying for a tender touch. Yet the crop
offered only pain. Eveline teased BethanyÕs nipples with its loop, with its
inflexible shaft. And then, all of a sudden, as if breaking through some
promise sheÕd made, perhaps to Malthus himself, she suddenly drew back
the crop and brought it quite pointedly right down with a SMACK! on
BethanyÕs perfectly formed right nipple.
ÒYEEEEOWCH!Ó Bethany cried. I leaped upon her. My legs opened over
her belly and I jammed myself right down onto her indrawn navel and
tummy. It was a concavity, my cleft, upon the concavity of her
bellybutton, but between my clenching thighs she was trapped like a
mouse in a mousetrap, and couldnÕt wriggle away.
ÒYEEEEOOOOCH!Ó Bethany yelped. Tears sprung to her eyes as Eveline
gave her other small, pretty tit a taste of the cropÕs awful power.
ÒOh, yes!Ó I cried with mischievous glee. ÒPunish her for being BAD!Ó
Yet at that moment, as I sat trapping Polly, I had my own fingers between
my legs, and was lustily frigging my slit.
ÒYou are no better!Ó Eveline said. She stung me with the crop upon
my right nipple and then, before I could even lift my hands to protect
myself, she struck me on my left.
ÒOh, Boo! Hoo!Ó I cried. I threw myself down upon Polly. I cast my
arms protectively round her head and rubbed my belly fiercely upon hers.
Our breasts, stinging madly, pressed together. We rubbed our wounded
nipples together. Yet the points of our breasts were still hard. They
pressed into each other and passed across each other, sharply, as if to
wound ourselves again on our own passion.
30
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