[Oh, no! Peevis and Futthead invade NND!]

P: Hey, Futthead. My mom just got a free AOL disk in the mail.
F: Whoa, dude. You can hook up to AOL and get 10 free hours before she even gets home.
P: Yeah, we could go search for words in the Bible in AOLÕs Holy Bible section. I wonder if the word ÒtoiletÓ appears in the Holy Bible?
F: YouÕre lucky you have me as a friend, Peevis. I know something better that we can do...
P: Oh yeah, me too. Ummm, what is it?

Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
ÒtemptressÓ

P: Yeah! Yeah! Nekkid girls and women and men...
F: You sound like one of those guys who writes on a.s.s., ÒMore Man/Man Stories, Puhleeeese.Ó
P: Well, you know, if you got a man then you can...
F: No excuses, Peevis. We are now listing down in your permanent record that you are a repressed homo with sexual tendencies!
P: IÕd crack your nuts but the story is starting...I think...
****
And they did. I remember it as a kind of liberation. The men entered me gently, but remorselessly, each in turn. The hostess had to stop the proceedings a few times, to let me catch my breath. And then it continued. Always it continued. A birching at first, then the loving thrusts, finally the long, hard-won spurts. After holding himself back for so long, each man gritted out his release with a kind of great, heartfelt agony. For none wanted the punishment. A brand on the hiney, administered by the hostess, if he failed to drive into me at least 20 times before he came. The brand was kept close, so he could feel the heat of it lying across the brazier, the red hot coals sunburning his arse.
I was not as tight in behind when I left as I had been when I entered. At least, there was no longer that absolutely girlish, virginal resistance. I suppose I was just as tight, physically so, but that clenching, sucking absolute GRIPPING of the hiney cheeks would never be quite so fey again. The childish fright was gone. Still there a little, maybe, but not in such absolute terms as it had been on that first night. That night was the first that I ever felt a long, living male organ slide into me...pump me with the sperm from its balls...and then withdraw, like something out of Alien. It was a rite of passage, a door through which one consciously went through, and which closed forever behind.
****
Was I feeling morbid? I spent days afterward languishing. I spent them back at the ÒLondon Dungeon,Ó again playing the nun, Betsy my best companion. And then one day it got chilly. Summer was passing. Surprisingly, this renewed me. I felt a new sense of wonder at my growing body. The world might be passing into autumn, but I felt Spring welling up within me.
I went shopping downtown. For clothes. Kali had given me some money, and Cybil too. ÒFor services rendered,Ó Cybil said, telling me that her business had increased since men had reported seeing a lanky, lissome 15-year-old ÒalmostÓ virgin lounging about the place. But I stuck with Becky, enjoying the deprivation that I was inflicting on the males that came by now and then, hoping for my favor. So close they were, and yet so far. Cybil kept them in line. They could not have me unless I said Ôyes.Õ And I eliminated that word from my vocabulary. At least for a little while. Until I regrouped. And then, when I had, I wanted to go deeper still. Into sin.
I met them downtown.
P: Lemme guess, she meets a woman, has a special lesbian moment, and (drum roll please) gets her hiney whacked.
F: DonÕt spoil it by giving away the ending, Peevis.
P: IÕm not giving away the ending. This is NND.
F: True, ÒNaughtyÓ is the first word. I guess you just know youÕre going to meet bad girls who need a spanking, but still, it would be nice if...
P: What?
F: I donÕt know. What would you do with a girl if you had one, Peevis?
P: Well, uh, we could hold hands, I guess, and then IÕd buy her some candy..
F: Whoa.
P: And, then, well, IÕd probably fuck her brains out with my condominium.
F: YouÕre very creative, Peevis.
P: Yeah, I should be writing this stuff, man...
We chatted outside a store window displaying Moslem fundamentalist literature. A mannikin in a chador stared down on us. She was blonde, long hair, just like me, except her hair was longer. And the male with her, an older guy, was just introduced to me as ÒSir Litchfield.Ó He had a British accent. The blonde told me her name was Juliette. She hinted ÒSir LitchfieldÓ was just a made-up name.
Gazing into their eyes, I felt a welcoming, a beckoning. But I knew they were playing Pied Piper for a world I had so far resisted entering.
ÒYou wouldnÕt, of course, be able to stay,Ó Juliette was saying to me when my mind re-connected to what she was saying. She had a slim, elvish beauty, a tall princess from the tall ships of Numenor.
F: Whoa, a literary reference. This intellectual moment has been brought to you by RollerÕs brain. To prove to you that he is NOT a pervert. He reads great literature. He has actually read The Lord of the Rings.
P: Shut up, Futthead. YouÕre interrupting the story.
F: ThatÕs our job, dickhead.
P: ÔPeevis.Õ YouÕre the one with ÔheadÕ in your name.
F: DonÕt say it...
P: And you give good head, too. (OUCH!)
ÒIt would just be for the evening.Ó
ÒThatÕs alright,Ó I heard myself reply. What was she saying? Yes. That I must come with them. Or cum... I glanced again at Sir L. Was the L for love? Such magnetic eyes. No, something else. Something about a field. Plowing my field, hoeing it. He would sow a good harvest there. A bountiful harvest.
Juliette took my hand. She smiled brightly at me. Her eyes were expectant. We got into their car as the mannikin watched. Seeing, yet sightless. All but her eyes out of sight behind the all-cloaking chador. I would not be cloaked, no. Just the opposite.
They took me home, showed me around their house. I nodded, gazed at their handsome, antique furniture. Their art, 19th Century, their kitchen, brass pots hanging in good business-like order from the ceiling. Polished, handles erect, suspended.
F: Wow, the house has furniture. This must be another intellectual moment.
P: Yeah, letÕs get to the sex, man! The SEX!
ÒLetÕs undress,Ó Juliette said to me casually.
P: And no spankings. Just FUCK HER!
F: With a giant dildo.
P: One as big as my rod.
F: You donÕt have a big rod.
P: Why? Have you seen it lately? Have you measured it?
F: No, but IÕm a year older than you, so I KNOW IÕve got to have the bigger rod.
P: Prove it to me. Show me your rod.
F: See, Peevis? We have proven once again that you are a homo, with sexual tendencies!
It was as if we were going for a swim, except we were still indoors, and they had no pool. Following her lead, I began to shed my clothes. Slowly, easily.
P: Hurry up, we donÕt have that many AOL hours left.
F: Yeah, get to the point man! ...Or rather, the dildo.
P: A dildo as big as my cock.
F: Not more from you about your organ...
P: ItÕs okay, Futthead. This is NND, not MTV. You can say ÒpenisÓ if you want to.
F: You want to see my penis, you want me to say Òpenis.Ó You are in the wrong newsgroup, Peenis. I mean, Peevis.
She undressing and I also, Sir L watching, undoing his trousers slowly, unhurriedly. Offering a rod of unprecedented proportions to both our eyes when he finally lowered his underpants.
F: This is your favorite part, Peevis.
P: Shut up, Futthead!
And I, stripping off my panties, watched it with awed eyes. Juliette, kicking her own panties off, took my chin. She brought my mouth to hers, averting my gaze from her lover, and kissed me sweetly, lightly, on my lips. An exchange of lipstick. A little smearing. My boobies, with their wiggly nipples, shaking tremulously close to her own.
ÒCome,Ó Juliette said. She turned, led me into the bathroom.
P: Alright!!! Maybe weÕll get to see a toilet!
F: Yeah, dude. Maybe sheÕll get flushed down the toilet.
P: Or at least sheÕll have to use it.
F: You have indecent thoughts, Peevis. You should be reported to Senator Exon.
Her long, wavy blonde hair swayed with her every step as she walked. Her bottom was generous. A ripe pumpkin waiting for a boy to come and take it from the garden, spear it with his knife. Sir L followed, his penis hard, uncompromising.
F: More stuff for you, Peevis. (OUCH!)
We entered a dazzling marble bathroom.
P: Of course. It wouldnÕt be an outhouse or anything since this is NND...
F: Dumb suck! ThereÕs an outhouse in Love Child.
P: ONE outhouse. Out of all those NND stories, one outhouse. Nobody can unzip those files, anyway.
F: Yeah, you are a dumb shit, Roller! Sending out Zip files to everybody that no one could open! Unsubscribe me!!!
P: YouÕre getting into irrelevant futting. Let the story proceed...
The walls and floor were made of marble. The tub, huge, was inlaid with marble. There was no water in it. Champagne waited in a chilled bucket by the unfilled tub. A servant, seeing us come home, had placed it here, disappeared. And there was something else. A bucket. And old-time, wooden pail. It was filled with brine. And sticking up from it, long and slender, were several birch branches. They were tied off at the end with a kind of little flag, a pink bow. Juliette lifted the birch from the bucket, then laid it crosswise over the bucket so that the excess brine would drip off. She wanted it wet, but not drippy wet. I admired her lovely naked body as she moved, her bare breasts swaying, her nipples risen, her legs long and sleek.