Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in LABORS OF LOVE Chapter Four He awoke to the feeling of her licking his penis. Small, tentative licks, for she knew how big he could get once he was aroused. But the delicacy of her licks, the small exploring nature of them, only served to heighten his lust. In a moment, still groggy eyed, he was huge. And, after a moment of fright at having awakened such a huge snake in her bed, she licked him blissfully. Now they were long loving strokes, relishing strokes, all the way from the bulging crown of his penis down to the hairy base, then back up the bristling shaft, tracing every thick vein that pumped blood urgently through his member. He reached down between his legs. There amidst the hairy muscled mass of his thighs, he found her small 12-year-old head. Her cheeks were silk-smooth. Her lips were soft like rose petals. She shifted her head back, as if to escape. But his hands were huge, calloused from years in the Army, and he caught her retreating head and held her fast. Then, reaching along her cheeks, he stuck both his thumbs in her mouth, and both his index fingers, and as she gasped out a protest, he pried her small lips wide apart. He had to, given what he had planned. As she moaned and breathed against his intruding knob (as if a breath could stop him!) he stuck himself into her. She coughed. She gagged. He stilled his hips a moment and let her feel him with her tongue. Yes, she must learn to accept him. They were lovers now and lovers must know each othersÕ bodies. She was 12 but, somehow, they had come together despite all those who would keep them apart and now, knowing it was at least a little bit her fault for the fact he was in her bed, he made her take him, and he swept all guilty thoughts from his mind. Had not Hamlet loved Ophelia? And how old had the ÒVirginÓ Mary really been? And Joseph? Between her 12-year-old teeth he slid, a big, thick shaft, gnarled with veins and hot with his desire. Already he was wet from her lickings. Now he made her accept him. He eased over her tongue like the Snake easing through the grass as Eve stood eating the Apple. Within her mouth, he let the tension of guilt and lust focus itself in his erection. All of himself bent towards her and focused on her and throbbed tensely and urgently within her childÕs lips. Somehow she exhaled. He felt her breath flow past the huge stopper-like presence of his shaft. Then she inhaled. And then, putting her lips about him with difficulty, she began to suck. For a long time they lay like that. Together, but with him hard and desperate and her soft and willing and consoling. She suckled him as a baby might, and she was barely more than that, her training bra hooked over the arm of a chair, its clasp unfastened, her panties on the floor, next to her teddy bear which had fallen from her bed. In a chair a big Raggedy Ann doll sat staring. Was it reproving? Disapproving? No, it had a smile plastered on its face, for whatever might occur within the room, the room of its little female master. Chip flung his head back. A vision of her parents coming home darted through his mind and he almost came in her mouth. Ginger, caught between his legs, unable to escape him even if it were her fault that he was here, sucked quietly. Little moans escaped her throat when he pushed himself too deeply in her. Chip stroked her hair. It was soft, pigtailed. He told himself he didnÕt like seeing her in pigtails, that it made her look to young. But she was in pigtails now, and theyÕd fucked themselves to sleep the night before with her in pigtails the entire time. She even wore a new pair of sneakers heÕd bought her. They were laceless sneakers, using velcro straps instead to bind her feet, so she wouldnÕt have to fool with tying them. And they had little ponies on the side. Little spangled ponies, with the initials MTV beside them, for there was a new show on MTV called ÒAmazingly Wild PoniesÓ and the shoes were a merchandising spinoff. Someone, perhaps it was Cindy Crawford, perhaps someone else, hosted the show, and so sheÕd wanted the shoes and heÕd bought them for her. ÒAuck!Ó He groaned and reached down and now he had to pry her lips apart to get himself away from her. He opened her lips. He pulled himself out. His cockhead gleamed wetly with her saliva, as if it had been oiled. He waited a moment, holding himself just outside her mouth, for the urge to discharge to pass. For a moment he didnÕt know if it would. He held her lips apart, just in case he had to re-enter for a sudden, impulsive finale. Then he felt his balls calm a little, just a little, and he felt himself regain possession of his penile reflexes. They stared at each other. He stretched out above and below her, holding him below his waist, where it wasnÕt fair to punch in boxing. She knew what he wanted. And he knew. And she stuck out her tongue, hoping to lick him some more instead, for she was frightened by what he wanted, for sheÕd only done it once before, and not with him, and heÕd learned since that sheÕd been a little high then, and that had helped her through it. Now there was no pot to save her. He didnÕt do drugs, and she didnÕt have any, which meant, at least for now, that she didnÕt do them, whether or not she might have done them if thereÕd been some to do. Yes, heÕd learned some more about the interval between their first meeting and their second. SheÕd gotten into pot, thanks to some friends at school, and a chance encounter walking home from school one day had led her quite quickly into club-hopping and group-gropes, with people she didnÕt even know, or care to, save that they could get her into the forbidden clubs, where she thought sheÕd never go until she was as old as he was. SheÕd gone, fibbing to her mom about slumber parties. But thereÕd been no slumbering, down in the bowels of the city. Instead sheÕd been fucked, though he guessed now it had been petting and fondling as much as fucking, men discharging in her small childÕs hands, or between her lovely girlish breasts, just budding, and only perhaps once per night in her too tight cunt, and only once ever in the place he wanted to take her now. Yes, despite the fear in her eyes, he must have her. He knew he couldnÕt afford to wait. She was developing fast. An argument, a tantrum, might end their relationship forever. Then he might never have another chance like this, not in 1990Õs America. Or worse, he might see her again, but after other men had had her. SheÕd done it once. And sheÕd been not entirely herself, thanks to a joint or two. Now she was sober and so, he told himself, she was almost a virgin in the place he wanted her, for it would be her first time sober. Grimly he gripped her pigtails and yanked her up. She yelped, followed his pull, lest he yank out her hair. He slid her up his body. Then beyond. He lay her flat on her tummy on the bed and as she grabbed a pillow for comfort he eased apart her legs. They were smooth, colored like cinnamon sticks from her hours of playing in her backyard pool. Her bottom bulbed at him, white and soft and tempting. He reached for it. He knelt between her legs. She kicked at him, but he was within the enclosure of her legs and all she could do was bang her heels backward against his butt. Chip reached for her nightstand. TheyÕd left an open jar of KY there from their antics the previous night. He grabbed the jar. Quickly, like a desperate man on the edge of a mirage, hoping for water, for a fountain of youth, he slathered KY over his cock. Chip crouched between her legs. His cock bumped her. He separated her cheeks and exposed her little nether hole. A shiver ran down his back. One ran down hers. How could he stick himself into such a tiny hole? Yet another man had managed it, and now he was determined to do the same. He lubed his finger. He prodded between her apple-round cheeks and made her puckered hole withdraw and finally, relucantly, open to him. He slid inside. He could not go deep. She was too tight, even for his finger. But he lubed her, spreading the KY within her clenching hole. Then he removed his finger. Suddenly the doorbell rang. He saw her freeze in mid-wiggle and her heels stopped banging against his ass. He became rigid. Every muscle in his body contracted, stiffened. The doorbell rang again. ÒIÕll-- IÕll see who it is,Ó he breathed to her. ÒOkay,Ó she answered. There was no other option. Fucking her where he wanted to fuck her, if he was to do it well, like a gentleman, could take awhile. And he had no intention of not doing it well. He was not a rapist. Demanding, yes, for all men had to be demanding with their loves, lest they despise them. He was on trial as much as she. In the end she must accept, obey, but he must make her obey, he must break through her excuses and her delays. The Snake had to induce Eve to the tree. She had been as artful as he, in her own female way, but his will had overcome hers and she had finally accepted. ÒDonÕt move,Ó Chip said to Ginger. His voice was gruff, like an Army SergeantÕs, and indeed he had been released as a Sergeant. ÒOkay,Ó GingerÕs small voice agreed. The doorbell rang again. Cursing, Chip climbed from the bed and grabbed his pants. He walked from her room quickly, not even bothering yet to don his trousers, for he was walking quickly, angrily. His huge cock bounced in front of him like a very long tent pole, flinging bits of pre-cum as he walked. His penis throbbed and his balls felt huge between his legs and he wished to God whoever was ringing the doorbell would go away, but they just kept ringing, and he had no idea what to do. Perhaps the huge Tudor-style mansion her parents owned was on fire someplace, and firemen were coming, or already here, but he sniffed the air and smelt no smoke. Perhaps her parents had died, and the police were downstairs, urgent to tell her. He walked to the front door and almost opened it when he realized he was naked. Cursing again (but quietly!) he stepped into his pants. He tried to zip them up but it was difficult with himself so hard. He tried to get his cock inside the fly of the trousers but it stuck out defiantly. It wanted to Fuck. Finally, glancing around, he grabbed a telephone book. He placed it in front of his crotch and he opened the door. ÒHello.Ó A 12-year-old boy. Fat, with a big pudgy round face and spectacle glasses like John Lennon once wore but the boy looked too young to even have heard of John Lennon, though he wore his glasses. They were smudged. His face was sprouting pimples. He wore a collared shirt with a pen protector in the pocket and several colored pens inserted into it, plus, inexplicably, a compass and a 12 inch ruler that stuck up into the boyÕs face. ÒIÕve formed the Community Protection League and IÕve named myself Head Protector and IÕm checking up on all the houses,Ó the boy announced. ÒI understand GingerÕs parents are away right now and IÕd like to ask if sheÕs okay.Ó ÒSheÕs fine,Ó Chip replied. His voice was a low growl. Barechested he confronted the boy, and the wind outside was cold and it blew against his chest, lifting the hair on his chest. Artfully he held the phone book in front of him and he hoped the boy didnÕt look to far to the left or the right, for he was quite erect behind the phone book and he doubted the Community Protection League, or rather the Head of it, would have Ôbuttfucking 12-year-old girlsÕ on the list of its approved activities. The boy held a clipboard in one hand. He raised it aloft and drew a pen from his pen protector. ÒUm-Hmmm, letÕs see. Ah, yes. Ginger Elsinore. IÕll check her off as being fully protected then!Ó The boy let out a careworn sigh as he checked a hand-drawn box beside her name. And then, looking up, he asked: ÒAnd who might you be, sir?Ó ÒIÕm the cable guy,Ó Chip answered. ÒMmmm-hmmm, report filed by cable man,Ó the 12-year-old boy announced. He wrote something under GingerÕs name. Then, pretending he had a hat to tip, although he was bareheaded, the boy said, ÒAnd a good day to you, sir, and thank you for cooperating with the Community Protection League. Eternal Vigilance for Our Children!Ó ÒHeil Hitler,Ó Chip replied. The boy turned and nearly stumbled from the porch. ÒOoops! Forgot the steps were here!Ó he said to Chip. He walked down the three steps to the sidewalk. He turned, waved to Chip. Chip waved back. He felt like killing the kid but reason prevailed and he forced a smile and withdrew inside. He slammed the door. Chip jogged upstairs. He tore his pants off as he went. Back inside her room, he found her bed empty. He looked about, heard water tinkling into water. He entered her bathroom and found her sitting on the toilet, peeing, her body still naked, save for the ribbons in her hair and her shoes. ÒDonÕt worry, IÕm just doing number one,Ó she told him. She grinned. She drew toilet paper from the roll beside the toilet and wiped herself. Then she got up. She went to the sink and rinsed her hands. He looked at her naked bottom as she stood in front of him and saw that her hole was still greased with KY. He felt a thrill pass down his spine and through his erection. She primped, pushing her hair back from her face, adjusting her pigtails. She looked at him in her bathroom mirror and smiled again. ÒIf your parents ask, tell them your cable T.V. went out and you had a cable guy come and fix it,Ó he told her. ÒOkay,Ó she answered. ÒNow get in bed! I want to fuck your ass,Ó he said hotly. She turned, suppressed a smile. She walked past him. She walked with an exaggerated wiggle and he knew she loved the attention he was giving her, even if what he wanted to do to her was bound to hurt. She kneed her way onto her bed and lay down on her tummy. She clasped her pillow. He climbed in behind her. He forced her legs apart again and swore to himself that this time, no matter what, he wasnÕt going downstairs again to answer the door. He was still greased and she was still lubed in her little hole. He stared at himself, at her. He leaned into her and pushed her rubbery cheeks apart. She tensed, but her bottom was no match for his hands. He thrust himself in between her silky, nervous cheeks and lodged himself there, against her butthole, his peehole pressing hard into her butthole. Chip adjusted himself. He placed his hands up by her head. She grabbed one of them and pulled it around to her mouth, perhaps to stifle her screams, and she bit hard into his flesh. ÒWhatÕs good for the goose is good for the gander,Ó flitted through his mind from the bordello, and he said nothing, though he wanted to, for her small teeth were biting hard into his skin. Instead he jabbed at her tiny hole with his cock. ÒOooh!Ó Ginger gasped. She bit his hand harder. She waited. ÒTry to relax,Ó he told her, and he thrilled at the words, for they meant he would have her, in the secret place where he wanted to conquer her so badly. ÒJust relax.Ó His voice was throaty. She flinched beneath him. He pressed his cock harder against her. For awhile he lay against her, within her tight bulging cheeks. His peehole dueled with her hiney hole. They tried breathing together and he reminded her to relax, but he realized eventually that if he wanted to claim her he would have to be a little harsh with her, though he didnÕt want to be. He tensed. He eased his hands from between her teeth. Her bite had softened as they lay together and he was grateful that he could get himself away from her mouth. He looked at his hand. There were teeth marks, deeply impressed, but she had not broken the skin. He put both his palms upon her small bottom. Easily his hands encompassed the fleshy roundness of her little ass, for she was still a child, a small breathing thing beneath him, scared, but she had already had another man up her in back and now he wanted her. He was absolutely determined not to let this opportunity pass. They were lovers but he could not control the future. She was 12 and he was 21 and her parents didnÕt even know he existed, and theyÕd be coming home soon, too soon, and she was a precocious thing and might flit away from him, find someone else, or he might meet a woman, what he really wanted in life, and might find it best to politely excuse himself from her life. Chip shoved his hardness into her hole. A half inch. She shouted. ÒDamn!Ó he cursed. She was going to be vocal and although sheÕd been vocal last night he was going to take her in an (almost) entirely new place now, and he was worried that the Community Protection boy might be snooping around. Chip leapt from the bed. He walked to her dresser. She watched him, furtively. She lay in her bed like a sheep waiting to be sheared. He rummaged in her drawer and decided on a pair of her panties and one of her bras. HeÕd hoped, perhaps, for something else, but she was only 12 and even a sexy 12-year-old girl like her didnÕt keep ball gags or nylon stockings in her lingerie drawer. Annette might have, in her drawer in her home, but not little Ginger. He returned to her and, speaking softly to her, but uncompromisingly, he got her to open her mouth. He stuffed in her panties. Her eyes bulged but she accepted her fate, and the bra which he hastily tied round her mouth and behind her head, against the nape of her neck. He got back into bed. He put himself between her legs again. He spread her luscious small ass and he went to work. A sharp cry of alarm escaped her throat. He paid it no need now. He pressed his palms hard against her ass, jabbed his hips forward. He stabbed inside her. He moved his hips again. He thrust deeper. She was pinned hard to the bed by him and she urgently tried to move but he clamped her and held her open with his palms and he pushed his erection stiffly into her hole. Like a snake entering the home of a small little creature who lived in the earth, in a warm little burrow, he jammed his length into her. It was slow, grindingly tough work, and her girlish sighs and helpless screams made him want to spend every second he was working his cock into her. Capive she lay beneath him, able to kick at his ass with her sneakered heels, able to beat her little fists into her pillow, but quite unable to escape or get free where it mattered. Lodged within her, he reached a hand up to her face. He placed his fingers under her nostrils. Could she still get air? Was she still breathing? Yes. He felt an exhalation from her childÕs body flow over his fingers. Good. She was not kicking because of anything except his Entry, and he was not about to spare her that. He resumed his work. Like a captive bird, struggling with a tom cat, she dealt with his cock as best she could. It stuffed and thrust into her, forcing her hole to widen. He was bigger than the other man had been and this time she was not softly relaxed from pot, she had to rely on her own emotions, unassisted. She felt all the air being pushed from her lungs and he hurt her as he bore deeper and deeper, a scratchy, burning hurt, like a big turd being forced back up inside her after sheÕd already pooped it out. She wanted to run to the toilet, to squat and MAKE the thing come out of her, but he was a living, pulsing thing, not a turd but a Man, a man who had been in the Army and who wanted to make himself cum in her ass. He gasped. She felt him shudder within her. For a moment she thought he might spurt. She prayed for the ejaculation, if it would make him smaller, but it didnÕt come, and he remained as big and urgently hard as ever. Then he began moving. Back the way he came, but only to torment her, for as he neared her tiny anal doorway he shoved himself in again. She screamed. She was glad for the gag. He forced himself harder. She screamed louder. In and out he moved now, fast as he could, without (he hoped) hurting her, though with each stroke he became less caring of her, and more concerned with his passion. He reamed her. He lanced the hot bulb of her bottom. She squirmed, to break free of him, and he loved her squirmings and her screams of pain delighted him. Desperate, sweating, Ginger clenched her teeth as best she could against the gag, first wanting it, to quiet her inevitable screams, to protect herself and him from the neighbors hearing, then, as he became more ruthless with her, wishing she could somehow expel it, and order him out of her. But she could not get the gag off, and when she tried, briefly, to untie it with her hands he grabbed her hands and pulled them down to her waist and held them tightly as he rammed himself in and out of her small wounded hole. She had wanted kissing. But here, there was no kissing. And hugging. But she was not being hugged. Instead, she was flat on her belly as a man, a grown man, a man who had been in the Army, knelt between her legs and held her arms tightly against her sides and forced his Thing deep into her nether secret hole, where she had never taken any man, except once when she had been pleasantly stoned, and he had been smaller than this man was. Brutally Chip lifted her up. He shoved her hands under her pussy and her waist and his hands, covering hers, forced her to lift and arch up her bottom at him. He held her like this, supporting her, and he drove himself more forcefully into her, and then pulled back and drove in again. She panicked. The pain was indescribable and she tried to open to him, but he was so big she couldnÕt open, she was already open, but he was bigger still, and she felt his big fleshy pestle working in and out of her, in and out, and she wished her parents would come home or whoever had been at the door would come back. Chip felt encased in a tube so hot and lovely and tight he could barely endure it. Each stroke he gave her was an incredible challenge, for he wanted to spend, to just shoot and be done, but he knew he must give her a victorious ride, a ride she could later rub her bottom over and admit to Annette was the best she could ever have. ÒWhy do you have to be so good?Ó he wanted to hear from her afterward, and so in his passion he forgot that she was only 12 and he rode her like he would ride a woman, hard and demandingly, and tough on himself as he was on her, holding his sperm in despite all of her urgent pleadings and cries. And then, just as he was congratulating himself on his fortitude, he felt an sudden, desperate thrill, a deep, powerful urgent need to spend that even He, tough as heÕd been on himself, couldnÕt stop. She wriggled, bucked at him. He remembered her age and he stilled himself in her and he vowed to himself to spare her any more strokes. And quite suddenly, more lubrication than had ever been in her was there, spurting from his balls into her hiney-hole. Ginger screamed into her gag. No, he must not do That! But he was, and she would receive all, whether she wished to or not, and she would have to sit on the potty later and clean herself somehow. He jetted, he pulsed with each of his jets, enlarging even more than he had before. He was her God, she was his servant, his little disciple. He impregnated her with his need. She took him in, she gasped and accepted. When he was done, he rose from the bed. He grabbed his shirt. He tossed it on. He began buttoning it. She lay whimpering, her teddy bear on the floor, her raggedy ann doll still staring, staring, smiling, staring and smiling as it sat in the chair in the corner of her room. Ginger lay with her legs apart and she wore her pony sneakers that heÕd bought her and her bottom, quite devirginated now, had his sperm bubbling from it as she clenched her cheeks. ÒIÕve got to go,Ó he said. ÒIÕll see you later, okay?Ó He finished buttoning his shirt and reached for his pants. His underpants, for his pants were someplace out on the stairs. He stepped into his underpants and found that his drippy cock fit easily into them, now that heÕd had his way with her. She lifted her head from where it was buried in her pillow and looked at him. There were tears in her eyes. She was still gagged. Feebly she reached for the gag, tried to untie it from the back of her neck, but her hands were too weak, she was still too shaky and terrified and exhausted from the Fucking heÕd given her. He walked over to her. He bent down over the bed and he kissed her cheek where it bulged out from under her bra, the bra heÕd tied around her face to silence her screams. ÒIÕll call you,Ó he told her. Then he turned, left, walked to the stairs, found his pants. He slipped them on. He went back into her room for his shoes. She was lying with her face in her pillow again. Her hands were working at the knot heÕd made with her bra at the back of her neck. Quickly he put his shoes on. He tied them, watching her. She was impossibly young and lovely and he longed to stay with her but now, finished with her, her cherry popped and taken, he remembered a woman heÕd met, and he had one chance to see her, one opportunity, or heÕd miss her forever. ÒIÕve got to do some... uh... work,Ó he said to Ginger. Her face remained in her pillow. She struggled with the knot at the back of her neck. He wanted to lean over her and untie her but he looked at his watch, the watch heÕd never removed, for heÕd been too eager to love her, and he saw he was almost too late now to the meet the woman. HeÕd forgotten her in his lust for Ginger but now that his lust for her had been satiated, he remembered the woman again. She had been truly beautiful, and he wanted a woman, not a girl, in his life. ÒBye,Ó he said to Ginger. He strode quickly from her room, leaving her to undo the knot in her bra that gagged her. He hurried down the stairs. He almost broke into a whistle but he stopped the urge at the last moment, thinking it bad form. He made for the front door and opened it and looked around for the 12-year-old boy. He spotted the lad, across the street, talking at another house. He hoped the conversation had nothing to do with himself. The boy was invited inside the house and Chip breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly, before the boy could emerge again, he hurried to his Camaro. Cable men didnÕt do repairs from a Camaro. Suppressing an urge to floor his car, to make it squeal and burn rubber, Chip managed to turn it around. He sped down the street and hoped Ginger could get the gag off her mouth by herself. ----------------------- Fuck Decency! ----------------------- -Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age statement to: roller666@aol.com -To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (CuntCastle2d) -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller6666 CuntCastle3b here! -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd666 NudieNursery5 here! -Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop? -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com -Fuck Decency: http://members.aol.com/nnd6/fuckdecency.html -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. -END OF ftp EMISSION