From roller666@aol.com Sat May 03 19:36:45 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: roller666@aol.com (ROLLER 666)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: rare dreamgirls 8
Date: 3 May 1997 23:36:45 GMT
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Lines: 183
Message-ID: <19970503233500.TAA15043@ladder01.news.aol.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com
X-Admin: news@aol.com

         [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 AOL's Holy Bible
section.  I wonder if the word "toilet" appears in the Holy Bible?
F:  You're 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 
"temptress"

P:  Yeah!  Yeah!  Nekkid girls and women and men...
F:  You sound like one of those guys who writes on a.s.s., "More Man/Man
Stories, Puhleeeese."
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:  I'd 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 "London Dungeon," 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.  "For services rendered," Cybil said, telling me
that her business had increased since men had reported seeing a lanky,
lissome 15-year-old "almost" 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 'yes.'  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:  Don't spoil it by giving away the ending, Peevis.
P:  I'm not giving away the ending.  This is NND.
F:  True, "Naughty" is the first word.  I guess you just know you're going
to meet bad girls who need a spanking, but still, it would be nice if...
P:  What?
F:  I don't know.  What would you do with a girl if you had one, Peevis?
P:  Well, uh, we could hold hands, I guess, and then I'd buy her some
candy..
F:  Whoa.
P:  And, then, well, I'd probably fuck her brains out with my condominium.
F:  You're 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 "Sir Litchfield."  He had
a British accent.  The blonde told me her name was Juliette.  She hinted
"Sir Litchfield" 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.
         "You wouldn't, of course, be able to stay," 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 Roller's 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.  You're interrupting the story.
F:  That's our job, dickhead.
P:  'Peevis.'  You're the one with 'head' in your name.
F:  Don't say it...
P:  And you give good head, too.  (OUCH!)
"It would just be for the evening."
         "That's alright," 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, let's get to the sex, man!  The SEX!  
"Let's undress," 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 don't have a big rod.
P:  Why?  Have you seen it lately?  Have you measured it?
F:  No, but I'm a year older than you, so I KNOW I've 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 don't 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:  It's okay, Futthead.  This is NND, not MTV.  You can say "penis" if
you want to.
F:  You want to see my penis, you want me to say "penis."  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.
         "Come," Juliette said.  She turned, led me into the bathroom.  
P:  Alright!!! Maybe we'll get to see a toilet!
F:  Yeah, dude.  Maybe she'll get flushed down the toilet.
P:  Or at least she'll 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 wouldn't be an outhouse or anything since this is
NND...
F:  Dumb suck!  There's 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:  You're 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.  

Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1995 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.

Original Subj:  lions, tygers, and blondes (oh my!)    (NND1 of 2)
NOTE TO FUCKHEADS:  "True rollers, like east Africa's Lilac-breasted roller (Coracias caudata), spend much of their time airborne, guarding their territories in a spectacular rolling flight, hence the name "roller."
- WWF Calendar, April 1997.