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ATTENTION ! ! !
This is a privately posted story, for *girls only*. Are you a girl?
O.K., then you can read this. If youÕre some pervert, or a little boy, you
*may not* read this. And if youÕre a girl under 10, please donÕt read this
either, okay? YouÕre too little.
I guess I need to write this part too: if your name is Òholy joeÓ and
you think youÕre going to steal my story and plaster it all over the
Internet, think again. (How many stories of girls have you stolen, anyway?
I know my friend PollyÕs story was stolen and she was SO embarrassed --
she didnÕt go out of her house for a whole week.
Also, this story doesnÕt have some perverted title. ItÕs titled
simply, ÒA GirlÕs Diary.Ó And I should credit a woman teacher who helped
me polish my prose and make it presentable so I could share my story with
a *few girls* on the Internet (privately). (Our newsgroup is alt.cunt, but
the cunt stands for ÒCheerleadersÕ Understanding and Nurturing
Together.Ó) (ItÕs purposely a private newsgroup, so if you canÕt find it,
itÕs Ôcause you havenÕt been given the secret password to it. Talk to some
girls (if youÕre a girl) and maybe you can get it, if youÕre old and mature
enough.
Now if you really are 10, 11, or 12, please donÕt read this until
youÕre a teenager, okay? I know a few of you have big sisters who can
access alt.cunt, and you can too, since they can. So, like, do read it if you
really have to (I wonÕt say you canÕt), but *try* not to, okay? And if
youÕre under 10, like I said, well, youÕre just being naughty, and you should
turn it off right away and go ask your dad to spank you.
Well, as you maybe can tell, my sensibilities have been sort of
permanently altered by my experience (which I start telling about, in just
a moment). My experience is told here as a warning. But itÕs not entirely
critical of guys. I think some women today are too critical of men.
Sometimes maybe we girls need men, to help us better understand things.
Maybe even to force us into things we wouldnÕt have tried, otherwise. (I
wouldnÕt have believed this before but, after my experience, I sort of do, a
little.)
Well I should stop rambling and being bossy sounding. IÕm not really
bossy. In fact IÕm probably too meek, thatÕs what everyone tells me. But I
do have a sense of adventure, despite my meekness. (A little too much,
probably, as youÕll quickly see, reading my story.)
Anyway, try to keep your spirits up while youÕre reading this, okay?
I know I shouldnÕt have done some of these things, but I did, and IÕm just
trying to be honest. Well, goodbye for now...
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUNISHED FOR PLEASURE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
YouÕve heard it before, but it bears repeating: ÒBe careful what you
wish for. You just might get it.Ó I might have added, ÒBe careful what you
dream about. It just might come true.Ó It did for me.
Would you like to know my dream? I created it when I was 10. Or
perhaps, as the feminists say, I had it forced on me. Whatever. My brother
turned on the T.V. and watched a movie about Navy SEALs. I watched it
too. There was a woman in the movie, and she was saved by them.
That became my dream. In my dream, IÕm the presidentÕs daughter.
IÕm sleeping one night, in just my negligee (IÕm older than 10, in my
dream). Suddenly terrorists kidnap me, right out of the White House!
IÕm taken away to a tall tower. It stands on a clifftop, on one of
those MesaÕs, out West. But nobody knows IÕm there, because the tower is
very old, built by the Indians, and it is part of a National Park. Normally
the park is open but the Republicans have shut down the government, to
save money or something, and so the National Park is closed.
There I am, in my tower, tied to a big bed. It has a canopy over it,
which is very fortunate, because thereÕs a gaping hole in the roof and the
hot sun burns through in the daytime. The terrorists, being wicked, tear
off my negligee to see my nudity. Then, after much pleading from me, they
allow me just a little bikini. I get a deep, tropical tan (even though I donÕt
like deep tans), wearing my bikini in the sweltering sun, protected by just
my bedÕs thin little canopy. I cry out for help but, stuck way out in the
desert, my cries go unheard. Vultures circle my tower occasionally, and
the terrorists toss them scraps of meat, joking that when they run out of
food, theyÕll roast me, and toss my entrails to the vultures.
I lose all hope. The food supply of the terrorists dwindles to almost
nothing. Every day they tease me about how theyÕll rape me before they
kill me, Òbecuase otherwise a Ôgreat bodÕ would otherwise just go to
waste.Õ (IÕm a virgin, of course, because even though IÕm 18 in my dream,
IÕm just 10 when I first started having it.)
Every day the terrorists untie me, so I can go fetch them water.
ThereÕs a well at the base of the tower. IÕm forced to walk down a long,
circling flight of stairs, and fill buckets, and struggle back upstairs with
ice-cold water from the well. They make me bathe right there in the
bedroom, in front of their leering eyes. They speak in Iranian, and place
bets on what part of my nude body IÕll wash next.
Then, itÕs back into bed, with just my bikini to protect me from the
strong sunlight and the terroristsÕ piercing eyes.
All hope seems lost. But, quite unknown to me, there is a NAVY seal
team training in the desert. One of them, quite luckily for me, spots me
drawing water from the well. (HeÕs scanning the horizon with high
powered binoculars, from a concealed base camp some distance away.) His
friends are all bathing in a dry creek bed. Water is very precious in the
desert and so, even though theyÕve stripped off all their clothes, theyÕre
pouring the water only over their cocks, and balls, and a few other parts
of themselves, in order to save water. Their cocks stiffen involuntarily
under the water as they pour it.
ÒToo bad we canÕt go use that well by the tower,Ó one of them says.
ÒIs there a well there?Ó one of them asks.
ÒYes, but you can hardly expect to let tourists see a bunch of buck-
naked SEALS performing their toilette,Ó one of the men says.
ÒHey -- isnÕt the park closed?Ó one of them asks. ÒI mean, itÕs not
supposed to be, but the Republicans shut down the government, didnÕt
they?Ó
Suddenly the man whoÕs seen me rushes over to his friends.
ÒCommander!Ó he shouts to the man in charge. ÒYou wouldnÕt belive it --
IÕve just seen the presidentÕs daughter!Ó
ÒHoly shit! WasnÕt she -- you mean,Ó the Commander blurts. (His
cock stiffens further, though IÕm ashamed to admit that part of my dream.)
ÒYes, and there was a man with a gun to her back!Ó the guy with the
binoculars says.
ÒCome on, men!Ó the Commander says. He shoulders his rifle. ÒMove
out at once!Ó He starts over the dunes, wearing no clothes at all!Ó
ÒCommander -- shouldnÕt we dress?Ó one of the men calls out.
ÒMove your ASS!Ó the Commander says. ÒShe could be killed any
minute. WeÕve got to get to her NOW! Are you going to tell the President
of the United States: ÔSorry your daughter died, sir, but I had to put on my
pants.Õ ?!Ó
The men laugh, but under the CommanderÕs glaring gaze, they quickly
fall silent. They grab their guns, their grenade belts. They run forward
across the sand. They crouch as they run, they follow the backs of rolling
dunes, and when there is nothing but flat sand, they run as fast as they
can. The hot sun burns into their naked feet.
The SEALs reach the tower. ItÕs silent. They canÕt be sure if theyÕve
been seen or not, but they know no one has yet tried to stop them. Some of
the SEALs begin scaling the tower. They have to keep their butts sticking
out behind them, for their large cocks stick out in front of them, and
would scrape against the towerÕs stone walls, if they didnÕt arch back
their hips. They try to talk down their erections, but itÕs no use. They are
thinking of me as they climb those walls, and they know their thoughts,
their motivations, are not entirely pure.
The Commander is leading a team of SEALs up the side of the tower
as, down below, other SEALs attempt to force the door at the towerÕs
base. They mustnÕt make noise, whatever they do, for any sound could
alert the terrorists and result in my instant death.
Suddenly, as the terrorists tie me back into my bed, telling me
theyÕll rape me and eat me tommorrow, for breakfast, the SEALs burst
through the towerÕs window. I look up, helpless, from my bed. The
terrorists grab their guns, to shoot me, to shoot the SEALs, but the SEALs,
especially their Commander, are too quick for the terrorists. He grabs
two of the terrorists as they try to fire their AK-47s. He hurls them
through the towerÕs window. The terrorists, screaming, fall to earth,
their guns blazing. Three SEALs, still climbing the outside of the tower,
are shot, and fall to their deaths.
But I am safe. The SEALs untie me. They apologize for their
immodesty. I tell them itÕs okay, I donÕt mind. TheyÕre very polite.
Then, sometimes, my dream didnÕt just stop at that point. Looking at
the SEALs, I ask them how long theyÕve gone without sex. ÔTwo weeks,Õ
they reply, Ôever since we started our training.Õ
ÒWell,Ó I tell them, sounding very mature. ÒDaddyÕs very particular
about who I date. He only lets me date officers. But thereÕs no one here at
the moment to say what we can and canÕt do, or whether or not I can
reward you.Ó And so, for their very gallant behavior, I do a strip-tease for
them. Then I ask them to tie me back into my bed, so I canÕt change my
mind in mid-stream, rewarding them, for IÕm still a virgin, and might. And
so, very reluctantly, with great gentleness, but pulsing hard between their
legs, displaying themselves to me quite rudely, they tie me down. They
even gag me, lest my screams be heard. Then, one by one, starting with
the brave Commander, they mount me. Only after each of them has had a
turn am I released.
When IÕm returned to my father, IÕm visibly pregnant. Everyone urges
me to have an abortion but I say Ôno, this is my baby, IÕm keeping it.Õ And
when I have the baby my father allows me to marry the SEAL Commander.
HeÕs quite angry when I tell him, privately, the whole story, but since the
Commander, being first, is the one who made me pregnant, IÕm permitted
to marry him.
Everyone thinks the terrorists made me pregnant, and they pity me,
but just me and a few friends (and my dad) (and a dozen or so SEALs) know
the true story. We keep the true story to ourselves, and just smile
politely when people tell me they feel sorry for me that the terrorists got
me pregnant.
(I know my baby couldnÕt grow that fast, but I was 10 when I first
dreamed my dream, and didnÕt know how slowly it takes a baby to grow.)
When my friend Larissa was 14, she met a real-life Navy SEAL. I
was doomed from that moment, I guess. I tried not to get a crush on him,
because he was, after all, her boyfriend. Or, rather, her sort-of boyfriend,
because he was 22. He wasnÕt allowed to have an underage girlfriend. But
theyÕd hang around together at the pool, at the rec center. HeÕd sort of
show up at the same time she showed up, and everyone would think it was
just a coincidence. But it wasnÕt, of course. Then sometimes heÕd
disappear, to go on one of his missions. He could never say where. It
would always be quite boring, for me and Larissa, at the pool, when he was
gone. My mom would stop by and give us sandwiches, and wonder why we
looked so morose, and LarissaÕs mother would blame it on Òteenage blues.Ó
Summer was long and hot that year. Larissa and I alternated in working on
our tans, and trying to keep out of the sun, wanting to be just lightly
browned, not white, but not too dark either. Our moms told us we were
too diffident. We should be playing sports, especially if we felt sad. They
tried to enroll us both in Summer Soccer. Me and Larissa had had enough
of that, though, in previous years. That was for little girls, with too much
energy. We were older now. So we lazed by the pool, and when my mom
and LarissaÕs both got jobs, we were quite thankful, for we didnÕt have
them around to bug us anymore.
The season languished. Someone spray-painted a manÕs fence and he
started a petition drive to keep ÒchildrenÓ in school year round. Albany
seemed to wilt in the hot afternoons, cooling only after the late evening
sunset. Nick returned from one of his missions. Larissa and I, finding him
at home, threw him an impromptu ÔWelcome HomeÕ party. Fresh from the
pool, still wearing sunscreen that was painted on our noses and cheeks,
we pretended to strip out of our swimsuits for him. We were wearing
bikinis. We pretended to untie them, first ourselves, then, mischievously,
for each other. Nick watched. He tried to appear good-natured. It was all
good, clean fun, right? We were just girls, young teens. He was a man. He
certainly had no interest in us, not sexually. But as he watched, Larissa
and I saw a prominence rise in the crotch of his pants.
The next morning I rode my bike over to NickÕs house. To my
surprise, LarissaÕs bike was already there. IÕd thought to meet Nick alone;
sheÕd beaten me to him.
I heard laughter. I parked my bike behind a hedge at NickÕs, in his
front yard, next to LarissaÕs. We liked parking our bikes there because
they couldnÕt be seen from the street. I went around the side of NickÕs
house. I guessed he and Larissa must be sitting on his back porch. There
was a gate. It had a combination lock on it. But I knew the combination,
and I entered it and opened the gate. Usually it squeaked but today it
didnÕt. I guess Nick had finally oiled its hinges.
I was wearing my bikini, ready for another day at the pool. It was
my first summer in a bikini and I liked wearing it. I walked through a
grove of leafy maples along the side of NickÕs house. It was just a rented
house, but I really liked it. The back yard was totally private, thanks to
large, old evergreens that stood guard around its perimeter. A wooden
fence kept out the prying eyes of the small children who lived in the house
behind NickÕs. I was wearing a shirt over my bikini top. It was a long-
sleeved shirt, with a collar. I wore it to keep myself modest, going to and
from the rec centerÕs pool. My mom had insisted. But I hadnÕt buttoned the
shirt. It was knotted under my cleavage, and pulled open, letting my boobs
show, but with my bikini bra under my shirt, hiding my nipples. My belly
was flat and bare, tanned, with my navel staring invitingly from the
center of my tummy. On my hips I wore a pair of cutoffs.
I heard laughter again. LarissaÕs. She sounded happy. I rounded the
corner of NickÕs house. Suddenly, I saw her. She was sitting at a table.
She was eating. I smelled eggs, fried sausages, coffee. There was a tree
that shaded the table. It was a birch tree. Its limbs stretched over the
table, blocking the sun, but the day was bright and immediately I noticed
something strange about her. She had on a knotted shirt, like I did. And
she had on her bikini bra. But from her tummy down to her tennies, she
was bare! She sat bare-bottomed on a cushion on one of NickÕs chairs, at
his backyard table. He sat in a chair beside her. He wore a polo shirt and
long pants. He was smoking a pipe.
ÒHi, Bambi!Ó Larissa called out. She seemed quite happy. There was
no tablecloth on the table, only placemats, and I couldnÕt help continuing
to stare at her legs under the table. They were long, tanned, and ended at
her crotch. There, framed within a small patch of white skin, her blonde
bush nested. The lips of her cunny showed between her opened legs. She
seemed nonplussed by my view of her sex. I stared, then lifted my eyes to
her face. She had a sausage speared on her fork and she stuck out her
tongue and licked it. Nick shifted in his chair. I saw that his manhood
was making a bulge in his trousers.
Sandy brushed back her hair. It was long, brown, highlighted with
streaks of gold from our long days at the pool.
ÒCome and join us for breakfast, but take off your shorts first,Ó
Larissa suggested. She bit the end of the sausage that was stuck on her
fork. She chewed, smiling at me.
I felt a mixture of surprise, desire, even competitiveness, all at
once. How could she? What was she up too? WeÕd never stripped for Nick,
just teased, yesterday. Yet here she was, my best friend, naked from the
belly down, save for her sneakers. She gazed at me expectantly. Her eyes
seemed to challenge me. WAS I as daring as her? She was 14. I always
felt a little inferior to her, because I was only 13. But we were both still
virgins. At least, I think she was still a virgin. She had been, yesterday.
Suddenly, blushing, but not wanting to fall behind her, I grabbed the
front of my shorts. I hesitated. I looked down at my pants, up, found Nick
gazing at me, placidly. He puffed on his pipe, didnÕt smile, didnÕt say
anything. But I could hear, somewhere, the words Òlittle girl.Ó Well, I
wasnÕt *that* little, just a year younger than Larissa. If she could take
off everything from the waist down, I could at least shed my shorts. I
unbuttoned the front of them. I dropped them to the grass. I stepped out
of them.
ÒNow the rest,Ó Larissa giggled.
ÒI -- Larissa!Ó I blurted. I was red as a beet in the face, I think.
Nick just kept smoking his pipe, as if it was nothing at all out of the
ordinary to watch a young teen strip out of her clothes.
I felt my bottomcheeks tense. This would be my first time. Naked,
in front of a man, except my father seeing me, when I was younger, and
used to streak through the house naked to piss off my mom. I didnÕt have
hair then, where it mattered. But now I did. It was blonde, a soft furry
nest of hair, and I was ashamed to show it to my friends. Especially Nick.
I bit my lip with my teeth. I stared at Larissa, at Nick, then down at
my flat, sun-browned tummy. I had to lean forward, my breasts were
large and lifted high by my knotted shirt. Then, ceasing to ponder, I just
did it. I pulled on both drawstrings of my panties. I felt the fabric of the
swim panties loosen around my hips. It was how I undressed at home, in
my bedroom, except I was outdoors now, in NickÕs sun-drenched back yard.
The shadows of the encircling trees slanted unhelpfully across each other,
or to the rear, into the neighborÕs yard. The shadow of NickÕs house was
too short to reach me. The birch branches shaded the table, nothing more.
I let go of my panties. I felt them skitter down my legs. NickÕs eyes
fastened on my bush. His lips, still puffing his pipe, betrayed a slight
smile. I arched my hips forward. ÒThere, now you see me,Ó I said in an
accusing tone of voice, but shyly. I pressed my hands hard to my thighs. I
had an unbearable urge to cover my pussy.
ÒWell, now we know youÕre a natural blonde,Ó Nick said.
ÒOh, yeah. Like you didnÕt know before,Ó I replied. Then I looked
down at my feet, wistfully. My panties lay there.
ÒBring them to me,Ó Nick commanded. I looked up. I was viewing
him from the side, but I could see, as he turned, that he had something
stuffed into his shirt pocket. I thought it was a handkerchief, but that
was only put in formal shirt pockets, wasnÕt it? I bent, I picked up my
panties. Daintily I shook them, as if they might have gotten a blade of
grass in them from lying in the yard. They had not. I walked over to Nick,
leaving my shorts behind.
ÒHere, sir,Ó I said tauntingly. I dangled my panties in front of him,
but just out of his reach, I thought. Quick as lightning, expertly as a Navy
SEAL, his arm darted forth and his fingers plucked the panties from my
grasp. He pulled open his shirt pocket. I saw a string attached to the bit
of fabric stuffed there. Panties! I suddenly realized. It wasnÕt a
handkerchief, it was LarissaÕs panties that heÕd put into his pocket! He
deposited mine with hers. He smiled.
ÒSit down,Ó he said.
There was an empty chair. It had a wire-mesh seat but somebody
had helpfully tied a red cushion over the seat. With a meek gulp, feeling
half-ridiculous, half-scared, I pulled the chair out from the table.
Perhaps I thought Nick would rise and seat me, but he didnÕt. Instead he
just watched me, smoking his pipe.
I sat down. The cushion felt soft under my bottom. I scooted myself
in towards the table, pulling the chair along with me.
ÒAre you hungry?Ó Nick asked.
ÒNo. I had breakfast,Ó I answered. I looked at Larissa. She smiled
at me. There was a bright, knowing look in her eyes. Suddenly my mind
reeled in shock.
ÒDID you?Ó I blurted.
ÒDid I what?Ó Larissa replied. Her eyes danced merrily.
I felt angry. ÒDid you DO it with him?Ó I asked. My eyes bulged as I
spoke. I was stunned I was having to ask such a question, of her, of all
people!
ÒSheÕs too young to fuck, donÕt you think?Ó Nick asked casually.
ÒNo, I donÕt think so, even though we did both promise her mom to
save ourselves Ôtill marriage.Ó
ÒAh, your mother was holding you back?Ó Nick asked, looking at
Larissa.
ÒSheÕs the local ÔSay No to Sex,Õ representative,Ó Larissa said. Her
voice had assumed a mocking, sing-song tone.
ÒDID you?Ó I asked her again. I stared at her, hoping it would
provoke an answer.
ÒMom thinks I slept over at JacquelineÕs house,Ó Larissa answered.
She bit another piece off the sausage she was holding in front of her face.
ÒYou havenÕt spoken to Jacqueline in two weeks!Ó I replied.
ÒMy mom doesnÕt know that,Ó Larissa smirked.
ÒOh!Ó I sighed. I leaned back in my chair, hard. I bounced off it when
my half-naked back touched touched the sun-warmed metal. It was wire
mesh, like the seat. ÒOw,Ó I said.
ÒSorry. I Forgot to tie a cushion on the back,Ó Nick said absently.
ÒWell at least you remembered the seat,Ó I said ruefully. ÒCan I
have my panties back now?Ó I eyed his shirt pocket. One of my pantiesÕ
drawstrings dangled down from it, like a loose thread.
ÒIÕm taking you both to the Catskills,Ó Nick told me.
ÒWhat?!Ó I asked. I looked at him, shocked, then at Larissa.
ÒHe and his Navy SEAL friends werenÕt on a special mission the last
time he left us,Ó Larissa told me. ÒAt least, not one for the government,Ó
she added. She smiled at Nick, mischievously, admiringly. Then she looked
at me again. ÒHim and his friends built a place, you know, for guys and
gals to get to know each other. Wanna come?Ó She bit the sausage she
was slowly consuming. She watched me as she chewed it.
ÒNo,Ó I answered, but my voice was soft, tentative.
ÒIÕm going this weekend,Ó Larissa told me. She reached out her hand,
under the table, took NickÕs. She smiled at him. Then she looked at me
again. ÒFor sex,Ó she said. She seemed to savor the word, as she spoke it.
I nearly fainted. When I finally recovered, her eyes still gazing at
me, into me, I said, half-heartedly, ÒYes?Ó
ÒGood, youÕre coming too,Ó Larissa answered. And she took a big bite
of her sausage, as if that settled the matter.
ÒNo, I mean--Ó Desperately I looked at Nick. ÒWhat will we do
there? How will I get away from my mom?Ó I asked him.
ÒGet in a fight with her,Ó Larissa told me, a mouthful of sausage
garbling her words.
ÒWhat?Ó I asked.
ÒShe thinks you and she should both get in fights with your moms,
Friday night,Ó Nick told me.
ÒYou know, ask something they wonÕt let us do,Ó Larissa said over
her mouthful of food. Her voice was laden with conspiratorial glee.
ÒThen--Ó she swallowed. ÒThen weÕll both leave early Saturday morning,
and write notes, and leave them on our beds, saying weÕre running away.
Since weÕll really be in NickÕs car, nobody will see us. WeÕll walk over
here, of course, while itÕs still dark, so we donÕt have to leave our bikes
here.Ó
ÒThatÕs--Ó I paused, considered. ÒThatÕs just going to, you know, get
Nick in trouble, wonÕt it?Ó I asked. I was looking for an excuse not to have
to say Ôno.Õ Surely there must be some logical obstacle.
ÒNonsense,Ó Larissa said. She was confident now. She put down the
half-eaten sausage. She reached over and took my hand, still holding
NickÕs hand with her other hand. She peered deep into my eyes. I stared
back, inquiringly, innocently, hoping for a reprieve. ÒNickÕs always leaving
on missions, isnÕt he?Ó Larissa said. ÒAnd, in the meantime, donÕt say
anything gushy about him. You know, drop a line, tonight, about how you
donÕt like him anymore because heÕs always having to go away. Then, when
we leave with him, no one will suspect. And since youÕre 13, and IÕm 14,
itÕs not like weÕre little girls. ThatÕs why weÕll leave our notes. So
nobody thinks weÕve been kidnapped. And also,Ó she lifted her eyes,
thinking. ÒAnd also! ThereÕs a big rock concert in Woodstock this
weekend. You know, one of those mini-memorial concerts they like to
have each year. WeÕll both ask if we can go to Woodstock. WeÕll beg. WeÕll
plead. And then Saturday morning, weÕll both leave our Notes,Ó she said
with schoolgirl cunning. ÒSaying weÕre going to Woodstock. Of course, we
wonÕt be there, but lots of other people will, and if anyone decides to look
for us theyÕll go there, and get lost in the crowd, trying to find us.Ó
ÒHmmm,Ó I said. I pulled my hand away from hers. ÒIt is a perfect
plan, but I still donÕt want to go.Ó
ÒThis is the only weekend it will work!Ó Larissa said.
ÒYou were all ready to go before, even when you hadnÕt thought of
Woodstock,Ó I told her.
ÒI know,Ó Larissa said. She looked at me frankly. ÒI want my cherry
popped,Ó she said. ÒAnd NickÕs going to do it for me.Ó
ÒOOOOHHH! YouÕre awful!Ó I cried. I jumped up from my seat. ÒSo
you didnÕt have sex with him last night,Ó I said to her.
ÒNo, but I sucked him off,Ó Larissa said.
ÒWell, IÕm glad to see youÕre being frank about it,Ó I replied.
ÒAnd that was only after we lay together all night long,Ó Larissa
said. ÒI had him between my legs all night. I touched him and teased him
and did things to his penis that weÕve talked about, you know, even tying
my panties around it, and licking it for him when he peed.Ó She giggled.
ÒOH!Ó I cried.
ÒShhhh, the neighbors will hear,Ó Larissa told me. Nick casually
puffed on his pipe and stared at my bush. I clapped my hand over my
private.
ÒGive me my panties back!Ó I insisted, standing at the table, staring
across it at him. I kept my voice low, though, so as not to alert his
neighbors.
ÒOnly give them back if she agrees to cum this weekend,Ó Larissa
told him. Then she looked at me. ÒI donÕt have the courage to go by
myself,Ó she said.
ÒWhat?! You need me to go along so you can get your cherry popped?Ó
I asked.
ÒYes, silly. If itÕs to be done there, at least,Ó Larissa answered. She
looked over at Nick. Her eyes seemed to inquire, he only puffed his pipe in
response. ÒAnyway, weÕll both be devirginated together.Ó She broke into
another set of giggles. ÒAnd there will be a few others there, so if you
like, you know, you can do it again, with somebody else. TheyÕll all be
Navy SEALs, of course.Ó
ÒWOMEN Navy SEALs?Ó I asked, astonished.
ÒNo,Ó Nick said. ÒJust men, plus a few girlfriends. I could invite
older girls instead, though, if you both think youÕre too young. You know,
college girls. It doesnÕt really matter, I suppose, but, well, I thought IÕd
ask you two, since youÕre both old maids.Ó
ÒWhat?Ó Larissa said. She shot him an accusing glance. ÒIÕm not an
old maid!Ó
ÒMe neither,Ó I said. And I wriggled my bare hips as I spoke, not
really thinking about it, just doing it, my hands on my hips, showing off
my pussy to him with the salaciousness of an Arabian dancer.
ÒWell, whatever,Ó Nick replied. ÒCome if you want to, but not if you
donÕt.Ó
ÒDo you PREFER us?Ó Larissa asked him. Dave looked down at his
pipe.
ÒSure,Ó he said, his voice serious. ÒI mean, I lost mine at 13.
SomebodyÕs going to do you both soon, whether you realize it yet or not.Ó
ÒThatÕs not a very good answer, Nick, saying you want to do us just
so you can be first,Ó Larissa told him.
ÒOkay,Ó Nick said. He looked at her, then at me. He eyed my delta. I
clapped my hand over it, so he couldnÕt see. He laughed. ÒYes, I prefer
both you little brats,Ó he said. ÒEven though I shouldnÕt. YouÕre young, but
well developed. Nice, uh, tits,Ó he said, looking at mine, then at hers.
ÒDo you like our PERSONALITIES?Ó I challenged him, my hands
returning to my hips.
ÒYeah, them too,Ó Nick said. He looked again at my private but I
found the courage somehow not to cover it.
ÒWell, IF you really like us, then maybe weÕll come with you,Ó
Larissa told Nick. But it canÕt just be like youÕre saying now. You have to
prove you really like us. Like, you know, slay a dragon for us, or
something...Ó
ÒHow am I supposed to slay a fucking dragon?Ó Nick spluttered.
ÒThis is the 20th Century!Ó
ÒWell, I donÕt know, buy us something then,Ó Larissa said.
ÒThat would make you whores,Ó Nick grinned. ÒArenÕt you glad I
made you breakfast?Ó
ÒOnly after I bugged you to,Ó Larissa said.
ÒI usually donÕt eat breakfast,Ó Nick answered.
ÒI saw you stuffing sausages into your mouth while you were
cooking mine,Ó Larissa told him.
ÒWell, I eat a FAST breakfast,Ó Nick replied. ÒI donÕt get out
placemats and sugar and butter and all that, and I especially donÕt arrange
it out here on this table.Ó
ÒIÕm impressed then,Ó Larissa said.
I sat down in my seat again. I scooted it close to the table. ÒFix me
something to eat,Ó I told Nick.
ÒIÕm almost done,Ó Larissa told me.
ÒNever mind. I want to eat too,Ó I answered. I let her know by my
eyes that I wasnÕt going to be argued out of a Nick-served breakfast,
either. It sounded fun.
Nick cooked breakfast for me, inside the house. I sat outdoors with
Larissa. We talked. It sounded scary to go off this weekend, to a place we
didnÕt know, to meet people weÕd never met, to... I didnÕt want to think the
word.
ÒNick says we donÕt actually have to do it if we donÕt want to,Ó
Larissa told me in a low whisper. ÒSo, see? It will be fun.Ó
ÒHmmm, that makes it a LITTLE easier,Ó I replied.
For the rest of the week, I was ambivalent. But my sense of
adventure kept tugging at me. A vacation! Away from my mom, my
brother, away from everyone IÕd ever been bugged by! It would be a
romantic vacation too, a ÒsensualÓ vacation, as Larissa liked to describe
it. So we wrote our notes, at the end of the week, and waited for the
morning.
30
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