Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 109    alt.sex.stories  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Two
by Andrew Roller

Chapter One

	Sitting across from each other we ate the pies, and I knew there were men in this world who would have delighted in watching us.  I rimmed my upper lip with my tongue, trying to clear it of whipped cream, succeeded only in smearing it.  Kimber looked up and I saw she had a cream mustache too.
	"So what do you want to do today?" Kimber asked, plucking a fat strawberry from atop her pie and popping it in her mouth.  I watched, copied her.  I copied Kimber in lots of things, I knew.  Deep down I envied her, the bold, casual air she had about sex, the way she could twist men around her little finger.  They did not scare her.  More likely, she scared them.  
	"There's a park that just opened.  I hear they have some cool rides," I said.  
	"Okay."
	"Can I wear something of yours?  I don't want to go in my schoolgirl clothes."
	"It won't matter if you're just going to ride the merry-go-round."
	"Bitch," I said.  Kimber laughed, tossing back her head, deliciously carefree.  "You know I'm not going just to ride the merry-go-round," I scowled.
	Kimber said no more.  She'd shot me with her bow...again.  
***
	Dressed in a midriff and jeans I strolled through the park with Kimberly.  I was wearing jeans of hers that had fit her several years ago, the pants fitting snugly against my immature hips.  My tanned tummy, smooth and bare, caught men's eyes as we passed, my belly button winking surreptitiously at them.  A girl's body sometimes sends signals she herself would never approve of, but cannot help.  My boobies jiggled within the confines of my half-tee.  It was tied off just below them in a cute bow of white fabric.  The shirt was sleeveless.  At Kimber's insistence I wore no bra.  I prayed to God I didn't spill anything on my shirt.  Carefully I sipped on a coke.
	"Mmm!" Kimber said, pointing, her mouth full of ice cream.  
	"Not the log ride," I said.  Those things always ended in a big splash.  She took my hand anyway, tugged me forward.
	"Be bold," she said, winking.  And indeed she herself was, with her see-through bra peeking out between the partly unzipped halves of her jacket.
	We entered the ride and sat down.  A big log enclosed us, four abreast.  I sat beside a man who was not unconscious of the dare I was about to make with the water.  He, and his wife beside him, smiled at me.
	"To be young and free," I heard his wife say in Spanish.  I was pretty good in Spanish, even though I went to an American school.  Some of the other kids snubbed Spanish.  They were military brats, or the children of American executives, hating Buenos Aires because it wasnÕt Phoenix, then going back to America two years later and hating Phoenix because it wasnÕt Buenos Aires.  I didnÕt mind fitting into the local culture, learning the language.  I seemed brighter than the other kids at school, and my beauty, which some called extraordinary, seemed to distance me from the other girls.  The boys, I knew, only had one thing on their minds when they sidled up to me.  So I mostly ignored them.  What fun is the chase when youÕre hounded on all sides, but every dog is a Beavis or Butthead?  Maybe that's why I got on so well with Kimber.  Even here, in Argentina, I had only a desultory relationship with my schoolmates.  Helga and I had lived here for awhile, then in America, then in Europe, then back here again.  This time I'd started school here at mid-year, when the other kids had already formed into groups and cliques.  So I was alone, mostly, though now I had HelgaÕs friend Kimberly to keep me company.  And, once, IÕd met another friend of HelgaÕs, named Julie.  They seemed to have shared an adventure together once, when Kimber and Julie were still teens.  Now they led separate lives, mostly.  They all had come into money, claimed it was from modeling, but had no photo albums or scrapbooks they could show me.  
	I turned around, gazed behind me.  Were any of my schoolmates back there?  Nope.  Not even any members of my Beavis and Butthead fan club, with their ever-present hopeful glances.  They were probably at home, surfing the web, while I prepared to surf my way into a splash at the bottom of the log ride.  Too bad.  They would miss out on a treat, if I lost my bet with the water.  Secretly I wished some of my female rivals were here, seeing me with my ultra-cool female friend Kimberly.  They would be extra jealous if they saw me with her.  We were a knockout together, no questions asked.  I liked how men thought I was somehow older when they saw me with her.  It was as if her presence gave them permission to talk to me.  I liked that.  Only thing was, what would I do, if they wanted to do more than talk?  I didnÕt know.  Kimberly would sometimes go out with one of them, someone weÕd met that day, at the mall or someplace, and IÕd lie awake that night, at home, jealous, wondering what it would have been like if IÕd been her, and she me.  ThatÕs why sheÕd been inviting me to her parties, lately, I knew.  To resolve my doubts.  To answer my curiosity.  But, God!  It was like, Òif you come, you must participate.Ó  I couldnÕt just...come.  Or, rather, I couldnÕt just Òattend.Ó  I couldnÕt just be a little girl, a little squirrel, seeing others do things and then refusing to partake myself.  If I wanted that sort of party, I could stick to church socials and the lame Beavis meets Airhead high school parties, Kimberly said.  No, if I went to one of KimberlyÕs parties, I would have to be part of the group.  I couldnÕt just watch, I couldnÕt exclude myself, I couldnÕt be half-in and half-out like I was at school.  I had to be one of THEM.  In this case, one of the adults.  Or, rather, one of the girls Òcoming outÓ into the social world of adults.  I glanced at Kimberly.  Damn you!  So smooth, so light-hearted, and so self-assured.  Were you ever 15, Kimberly?  Were you ever like me, caught between the somnolence of childhood and the confidence of adulthood?    
	The log slid up a long, seemingly precarious ramp, giving us a view of the entire park.  Happily Kimber pointed out to me where we'd bought our Cokes.  The fat boy was still there, serving customers, begging with his eyes for sex as he filled girlsÕ requests for drinks and hotdogs.  We'd had quite a laugh between ourselves after leaving his stand.  "Minus Ten," we nicknamed him.  Poor soul.  I doubted he'd ever get invited to a Pussy Party.  
	I gazed at the other rides, wondering which one I'd like to go on next.  Kimber seemed to be doing the same.  Then I remembered my blouse.  We were almost at the top of the ramp now, and there was a lot of water down below.
	The grinding of the ride's wheels ceased.  The wind whipped my long hair.  We were poised atop a great hill made out of steel tracks.  I could see the curlicues of track below, each a thrill of its own, each with its own special quality.  Suddenly in my mind each was a different party, with its own special perversions, its own unique sexual satisfactions.  My breath caught in my throat.  I held it in.  My breasts seemed to bulge within my shirt.  The log teetered atop the hill.  A ride of terror and pleasure awaited us.  I felt myself on the precipice, suddenly, between childhood and adulthood.  Kimber took my hand, squeezed it reassuringly.  The log lurched forward and we began our descent.
****
	"She was lucky she had long hair," I heard Kimberly laughing.  She was retelling the story of my adventure upon the log ride.  Of course, I'd lost the bet with the water.  My blouse had been soaked.  I'd had to spend the next fifteen minutes walking around the park with my hair carefully placed over my breasts, worrying at every gust of wind.  A few times the wind had won and my pink nipples had been revealed to passersby, beneath my wet tee.  When we went to buy more Cokes, the wind had bared me right in front of the fat boy.  I think he closed his stand and spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom.
	The couple before us laughed gaily.  I had finally said "yes."  It was two weeks later, and now I was here, at one of Kimber's parties.  A Pussy Party, no less.  At least it wasnÕt a ÒBottom Party.Ó  IÕd heard men had a predilection for removing their belts at those, and not for the purpose of dropping their pants.  
	Uncomfortably I was aware of my nakedness beneath my skirt.  It was short, a mini.  Fortunately I didnÕt have a hanky that I might drop.  I prayed no one would ask me to bend over.  It had been bad enough, at the door, slipping out of my undies, with everyone watching, coyly.  Then IÕd watched other girls come in behind me, women mostly.  TheyÕd slipped out of their panties so demurely, as if at FrederickÕs, finding what theyÕd tried on had been a little too tight, perhaps.  A little too small even for their tastes.  Except this wasnÕt a private dressing room inside FrederickÕs.  This was a full-fledged party, a social affair, with men in three-piece suits looking fine and handsome.  What would my mother say if she knew?  Helga, my second mother.  Fortunately she was out of town for the weekend.  I had no father to look after me.  I gazed at the man standing before me.  He would be about my father's age, I thought, if my dad were still alive.  Gently he appraised me with his eyes.  He wanted me in a way my father never had.  
	"Surely everyone is here by now?" I heard him ask Kimberly.  
	"Yes, I'm quite certain they are," she replied.  She clapped her hands for everyone's attention.  "Let's go into the study," she said.  She led the way then, taking me firmly by the hand.  My skirt flipped up as I walked, hips rolling, flashing the tops of my creamy thighs at the guests who followed us.  I was the prize of the evening, and I would be first.  
	I would never have agreed to come to one of Kimber's parties, I don't think, except that she'd caught me smoking pot three days ago.  I'd only taken it up recently at school, to try to get along better with the other girls, who'd enticed me into it in the bathroom.  Kimber had gotten quite angry with me when she'd found me smoking it, behind some bushes by her pool.  She'd said that sex was healthy and drugs were not.  If I wanted to grow up I should go to her parties, she said, not turn into a pothead.  She'd said that my body was changing and it was indeed time for me to grow up, but not into drugs.  She'd threatened to tell my mother unless I decided to take my place in the adult world as I should, as a young, fertile female.
	So now, a roomful of eyes on my barely covered bottom, I stood hand in hand with Kimberly contemplating the centerpiece of the party.  It was an innocuous wooden stool, placed before a ladder that served to give access to a wall full of books.  But I would not be standing on the stool, or climbing the ladder to fetch a book.  Nor would any of the other females tonight.  Those of us chosen for the task were to each sit on the stool, in turn, to be eaten.  
	Kimber placed a soft satin cushion on the stool.  A maid, clad only in an apron that stretched from her neck to her thighs, tied the cushion to the stool with a length of soft rope.  Kimber lifted a pillow from the floor and set it against the ladder, to protect my back.  The maid tied this off also.
	"Undress and sit down, Barbi," Kimber invited.  Self-consciously I wriggled out of my black lycra top, sending my boobies flying as I pulled it up over my head.  The guests gasped appreciatively at the beauty of my mammaries.  I shimmied my skirt down, letting it pool at my ankles.  Then I stepped out of it, wearing only pumps.  I tossed my hair back, attempting an air of casualness.  Yet everyone knew I was a virgin.  
	"You have a very cute bottom," I heard a girl say behind me.  Her name was Debbi.  She was a little older than me and I'd just been introduced to her a few minutes earlier.  We'd seemed fast friends from the moment our eyes met.  She followed me over to the stool and when I turned to sit down I saw that she'd peeled off her own top.  Silently I thanked her for joining me in at least a partial display of her own nudity.  Her sumptuous breasts bobbed enticingly as she helped me sit down on the stool.  When I was seated I was to stretch my legs out before me, and put my feet into stirrups mounted on the floor.  They were widely spaced and could be cranked upward, I was told, to loft my feet as high into the air as anyone might wish.  Right now they stood about a foot off the floor, on slim metal posts.  
	When my bottom was comfortably poised on the cushion, Debbi knelt and buckled each of my feet into the stirrups.  Kimber, meantime, surprised me by shedding her party dress.  Underneath she wore only a garter belt and stockings.  At her urging I lifted my arms above my head.  She pinned my wrists to a rung of the ladder and the maid tied them off with a rope.
	I wondered idly what a bottle of honey was doing in the library.  Shaped like a teddy bear, it grinned down at me from a shelf above.  Perhaps someone was going to have a crumpet.  Kimber picked it up.  My breath caught in my throat.  She lowered the squeeze bottle to my open mouth and lightly squirted.  A stream of honey hit my tongue, lolling unselfconsciously on my lower lip.  My mouth opened wider, surprised.  She squirted more vigorously.  Someone giggled.  Was it me?  More laughter, Kimber laughing now.  She made to coat my lips with honey.  Some missed, going too high up, giving me a cleft palate of honey, then too low, dimpling my chin.  Debbi shrugged off her skirt.  Silk panties, too small, traversed her waist, barely covering her pubis.  She slaked her ardent hands on her thighs, seeming to want to thrust them between, rub herself.  Her eyes gleamed at me.  She laughed, intensely, like a child barely able to contain herself with the apprehension of what must surely happen next.  
	Giggling, hands tied above me, I tried to clean my mouth with my tongue.  Kimber lowered the squirt bottle to my laughter-shaking boobs.  I watched wide eyed as she deposited a dollop of honey on each nipple.  The clear, sticky amber fluid slowly engulfed each stiff teat and then dripped a drop onto my thighs.  The bottle trailed down my smooth tummy, anointed my navel, then moved lower to poise itself at my pussy.  
	Kimber eyed me, smiled, returned her gaze to my twat.  Someone was going to have a muffin, all right.  Mine.  With a fresh squeeze she fired at my clit.  I flinched as the stream struck home.  I oozed there, honeyed in more ways than one, suddenly very aroused.  Debbi bent low, clasped her hands about my waist, palmed my bottom firmly.  She scooted my bottom forward on the satin cushion.  Then she eased my knees farther apart.  Kimber bent low and really let me have it this time.  She coated my cunt lips all over with the honey.  Then she introduced the tip into my virgin twat.  I shuddered.  My chastity was slipping away.  A fusillade of honey spurted up me where nothing ever had before.  A tremble passed over Kimber and she seemed to want to fuck me with the honey bottle's little tip.  But the poor bear was just too small, even for my tight little cunt.  She filled me as best she could and then withdrew.  She lifted a hand and brushed back her mane of golden hair, a picture of pure, decadent sophistication.
	"Who will be first?" she asked, turning to the guests.  Her shapely bottom bulged nakedly at me.  Naughtily I wondered what it would be like to shoot honey up her ass.
	A young man strode forward, long hair, a modern Jim Morrison in a tuxedo.  My spine tingled as I saw he had a day's growth of beard on his chin.  He would be...bristly.  With an eagerness he tried to mask behind an air of casual disdain he got down between my legs.  
	Kneeling, I thought.  You're kneeling before me, aren't you, big boy.  Roughly he pushed my thighs farther apart.  My ankles strained in their stirrups, held fast.  Worshipfully he bent forward, extended his tongue.  I broke into an uncontrollable shudder as he pushed his stubbly face right between the innermost portions of my thighs.  My eyes closed.  I grimaced as I felt a lick.  Right where it counted.  Right on my clit.  
	He was slurping soon, sucking all the honey from my twat with exemplary vigor.  Some little part of me was still sane, could remark upon this, but most of me had spun suddenly into a whirl of pleasure.  I humped him, moaned, cried louder.  Never before had I been eaten!  I was the outcast, the beautiful loner, the girl boys never dared ask out, though they spurted joyfully at my passing, peering at me from restroom windows.  I saw them again in my mind, a pair of eyes, maybe two pair, leering at me from some high half-opened window, intended to provide ventilation to boys pooping in the john.  And then, sometimes, a crash!  The bent-over boy, the one providing a platform for his buddies with his back, got a little too excited at their breathless descriptions of me.  
	I'd always been excited by their watching, though I didn't let on.  Now I had a whole roomful of eyes staring at me!  And this time no flights of fancy were required to imagine me without my clothes.  I had none!  The very thought sent me shivering over the brink.  
	Next I knew Kimber was patting, stroking my head.  I was gasping.  The man was gone, but another approached.  "Please," I mouthed, meaning to say "Please, no more," but the rest didn't come out.  
	"Yes dear, here's another one," Kimber said consolingly.  An older man approached.  He got right down on his knees and thrust his face into my beaver.  The dam of my hymen strained as he sucked at me like a vacuum.  Was he trying to deflower me with his breath?  He was doing a good job of it.  His mouth went to work then, munching merrily at my virgin cuntlips.  He urged more of my natural honey from me.
	Kimber bent forward and engaged my open, swooning mouth.  Absently I let her kiss me, French kiss me, licking away all the honey with long, lingering strokes of her tongue.  Then she and Debbi each captured one of my wobbling breasts and set about cleaning my honeyed nipples.  I shrieked as the mouths plundered my most intimate regions.  Gulping in air I screamed as only a virgin can, tasting the fruits of adulthood for the very first time.  At last, trembling, the girls and the man left me.
	I must have looked a wreck, makeup smeared, long hair tousled, my breasts and snatch gleaming wet.  The partiers seemed not to mind.  They gazed at me approvingly.  I was still virgin, still tied, able only to move my hips, my head, my bosoms.  Another came forward, this one a woman.  She was elegant, wearing a long, flowing sequined party gown.  She eased the garment's spaghetti straps off her shoulders.  It shimmied down as she knelt, bringing forth to my gaze a sumptuous bust.  She must have been close to 30, yet her tits stuck out as proudly as any high school girl's.  Nakedly they shook their fulness at me.  She took up position between my thighs.  Her dress bunched at her waist, leaving her own pussy covered.
	"No!" I said.  I cast my eyes wildly at Kimber.  To be eaten by men was one thing, bad enough, but a woman?!

D R E A M G I R L S  N E W S

	ÒThe liberal baby boomers, who thought drive-by sex and drugs were fine for them, want limits for their offspring.Ó - Time, September 11, 1995, pg. 64

Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls e-mail subscriptions:  send (18 or up) age statement to:  roller666@aol.com  Free back issues:  send e-mail to nnd.inf@backdrop.com  Free minicomics:  send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to:  Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A.  Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1995 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.  Chat:  alt.sex.stories.d    END OF 109 EMISSION