Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 110    alt.sex.stories  

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

Chapter One

	"No!" I said.  I cast my eyes wildly at Kimber.  To be eaten by men was one thing, bad enough, but a woman?!  I couldn't.  She thrust her face forward.  It was smooth against my thighs.  I had no choice.  
	Long nailed fingertips expertly spread me.  My tightness was stretched open, pulled apart.  Was this some gynecological exam for virgins?  Then her tongue, soft, probing.  Deep it went, tasting my hymen, relishing it.  Not often, I was sure, did these guests get to taste such a rare flower.  How long would I remain so?  Men were disrobing now, I saw through bleared eyes.  Enormous pricks sprung eagerly into the study's stuffy air.  Women cooed at the sight, let themselves out of their own clothing.  
	Perhaps virgin boys watched X-rated movies as they dreamed of their adult futures, but a girl like me never had.  I was shocked, frightened even, as I saw for the first time what grownups did in their spare time.  Nay, not their spare time.  This was prime time.  All else was mere resting between bouts in bed.  For young adults work was the resting place, the bedchamber at night the place of labor.  The young men and women around me got down to business, inspiring the older men, who soon joined them.  
	Debbi was brushing one of my nipples with her fingertips, idly, like some child toying with a button.  Her other hand stroked her inner thigh repeatedly.  Kimber walked over to her, embraced her from behind.  Debbi offered her lips, tossing her head back over her shoulder.  They kissed, long and luxuriously.  Then, holding Debbi from behind, Kimber glanced over the little brunette's shoulder and pulled open the front of Debbi's panties.  Both of them looked down for a moment at the pretty thatch inside.  They smiled.  Kimber took Debbi's hand and placed it within Debbi's opened panties.  The girl shivered thankfully.  She began rubbing herself where it counted.  
	Sweet, musky odors began assailing my nostrils.  Something I'd only ever smelled with myself before, when I became too urgent in the middle of the night, alone in my bed at home.  The scent of love.  And a new smell, that of the male!  I relished it even as I cringed at its pungency.  Not the odor itself, I guess, as much as what it meant.  Thousands of little white fish-tailed men being loosed right here, within the book-lined walls of this staid study, only feet from my own womb.  There was no going back from this, I knew.  That male odor would draw me in, fish to the fish-men.  My hymen was an endangered species.
	Kimber stepped away from Debbi.  She reached up to a shelf, drew down another incongruous item for a study.  It was a little whip.  For ponies perhaps, or dogs.  She reached out and drew down the back of Debbi's panties so that they bunched under her bottom.  Newly exposed, I saw in a mirror their whiteness.  They jiggled slightly, as Debbi masturbated.  A flick of Kimber's wrist then and the whip went sailing in to strike across the trembling globes.  Debbi bit her lip, stifled a cry.  Yet with her free hand she did not try to protect herself.  Kimber rimmed her lips with her tongue and struck the girl again, harder.  
	"Ooo!" Debbi yelped, choking off her cry in what I guessed was an attempt to be a good girl under the sting of the lash.  Someone had told me once that girls must strive to keep quiet during a whipping, hadn't they?  Or was I just imagining such things.  What did I know about whippings?  My mind trolled through the chatter in the girls' locker room.  Whispered passions, shared amidst giggles, perhaps I'd overheard it, dismissed it at the time as utter nonsense.  Now it came back to me, full force.  And something else also.
	Sometime during my half-remembered imaginings the cultured woman at my snatch had become satiated.  A man stood before me now, presenting his thing boldly.  He seemed not to want to kneel.  Ah!  No!  Could it be?  The male seed was drawing nearer.  My lips, yes, he wanted my lips, but not my well spread virgin ones down below.
	"Have you ever sucked cock?" he husked.  He was young.  His dick, unmilked yet, wiggled frantically.  He was certainly no slouch when it came to looks.  Had he saved himself for me?  Amidst the moans all around us he presented himself to me then, eased my teeth apart with his fingers, pushed the rubicund tip right between my lips.  It settled on my tongue.  I tasted precum for the first time.  It drooled within me, pooling in the back of my mouth, running down my throat in light trickles.
	"Suck," he commanded, jutting his chin out.  I looked up at him.  My eyes met his.  He would brook no disobedience, I knew.  My mouth closed reflexively, fearfully upon him.  With his palms he stroked my blushing cheeks.  Still staring up at him I began suctioning his tool, his very manhood, the soul of his being throbbing wetly in my all-enclosing orifice.  Yet some of him remained without, in the cool dry air.  He wanted that in me too.  Pushing forward he made me take more of his stem.  I felt his cockhead bump the back of my throat.  Kimber left off her whipping for a moment to snap a picture of me.  I saw it later, my cheeks bulging, eyes popping, as the big cock was forced more deeply within, still half at least luridly poised without.  Crisscrossed with big blue veins, the penis arced through the air.  It looked, I thought later, like a dolphin, its ends concealed but its back arching in the gleaming sunlight.  No head, no tail, just the powerful arching back and belly.  Like a dolphin in mid-dive.  Except the head of the cock was banging against the back of my throat.
	"More, you can take more," Kimber urged.  She smoothed her hand across my forehead.  My cheeks collapsed and I sucked deeply upon the rod.  I choked, gasped, my mouth opening, my breath flowing out around it.  He eased gently back a bit, I thanked him for it with my eyes.  But then he shoved forward again.  I would not be let off so easy.  "Practise," Kimber said.  She returned to Debbi.  The brunette was weeping and thrusting her bottom out.  Both her hands were jammed between her thighs.  
	"Yes, the air is nice and cool, isn't it?" Kimber asked her.  "But I am not going to let you feel only the cool air just yet.  A few more strokes are in order for a bad girl who plays with herself, yes indeed!"  And DebbiÕs waggling hiney, so desperate to cool its fiery surface, was assailed yet again by KimberÕs whip.
	My lover plumbed my depths, urging himself more and more into my throat, backing off only when I choked and then driving forward again.  I sucked now out of desperation, hoping against hope to bring him off and end this suffocating torment.  He grinned down at me and told me I was doing a good job.  He ran his fingers through my hair.  I, who had been so haughty, as some of my classmates imagined, an "ice princess," was now reduced to a gagging wench.  I wished I could bring my hands to bear upon him, but they were tied uselessly above my head.  Only my mouth could bring him off, my novice mouth, which at the park had slurped dreamily upon a cherry popsicle, imagining.  Now I had the real thing, and it didn't melt, no matter how much you tongued it.  But it might, it SHOULD, at any rate, deflate, if only I knew how.  Something about butterflies surfaced in my subconscious and my tongue leapt.  
	The man felt me against the underside of his cock and he trembled.  My first sign of hope.  I looked up at him.  He seemed to be arguing with himself.  Something told me that if I could get my flitting tongue under the head of his penis, he would be through.  But the head was back, too far into me.  I looked at him with appealing eyes.  He wanted that virgin tongue of mine right where it counted most, now that I knew how to use it.  Giving up on plundering my throat he pulled out partway, until his cockhead rested upon the tip of my newly trained tongue.  
	I didn't waste any time seizing my opportunity.  My tongue titillated his most sensitive spot like a little Amazon in heat.  I let my lips part and heard a rapid, lapping sound.  My man shuddered.  His face became haggard.  He didn't want to cum and yet he must!  Oooh, yes, baby, you are mine now, totally within my power.  I am the cat that freezes the mouse with its gaze.  He grabbed at my hair.  His hips bucked.  But he never let himself stray from my wicked tongue.  Right there, under the cockhead, where a man loves it most but can stand it least.  
	"Oh, God, no!" he cried.  Had he been promised more than just my mouth...if he could hold it?  Too late!  My first taste of sperm burst into my mouth.  It felt like Old Faithful was creaming me.  His cum geysered down my throat, hot and sticky.  I moved my tongue more rapidly, delighted at my triumph.
	Slowly, slowly then he began to limpen.  With a toss of my head finally I got my mouth free of him.  He wanted me to lick him until he came up again but, though tied, I gave him a sullen, defiant pout.  Kimber intervened then and thanked him.  His manhood deflated, he withdrew, giving me a last hopeful look over his shoulder before being welcomed back into the crowd by an eager woman.
	Kimber smiled at me.  She kissed me on the lips.  "Well, you've been a busy girl today."  She ran her hands through my hair, combing it with her fingers.  I smacked my lips, amazed at the semen smeared all over them, the goo coating the inside of my mouth.  My tongue wanted to stick to the roof of my mouth.  
	"If you like the white stuff, we've been invited to where there's lots more of it.  The Andes, as a matter of fact, to a certain gentleman's chalet,Ó Kimber grinned down at me.  ÒPractise on a few more men tonight and then we'll get some shut eye, and leave in the morning."

CHAPTER TWO

	If anyone in the study had been promised my hymen, the offer must have been withdrawn once Kimber received the note inviting us to the Andes.  Apparently a woman at the party, approving of my looks and my demeanor, had telephoned a certain wealthy Argentinean general right from KimberÕs study.  And he had issued an invitation, which she had passed along to Kimber.  The remaining men who pumped me that evening came without regret, spending within my mouth quite happily.  They were lined up three deep at one point, each determined to get his chance at my newly debauched mouth.  My lips were sore when it finally ended.  Several times more a woman came to my snatch, but tongued me gently so as not to damage my hymen in any way.  It had, apparently, some new value.  
	A small private jet whisked us toward our destination early the next morning.  There was myself, Kimber, and Debbi on the plane, plus a pilot, co-pilot, and a middle-aged woman who fed us and served us cocktails.  I asked Kimber if she was saving my virginity for someone.  
	"A little at a time, darling," Kimber replied.  "I was eager to see you lose it, but now, well, perhaps we can delay the ceremony a bit, hmmm?"
	"It's mine, isn't it?" I asked.  
	"Of course."  She rose, excused herself and went into the plane's bathroom.
	"Don't think your asshole will be so lucky," Debbi smirked.  
	"What do you mean?" I asked.
	"I hear the general we're visiting is an ass man," Debbi said.  
	"Oh, poof," I said, waving my hand dismissively.  "I only accepted an invitation to come, not to, you know, cum."
	I turned and gazed out the window.  The fertile green fields below were giving way to mountains.  They rose powerfully up from the landscape.  Their tops were wreathed in clouds.  This was, wasn't it, the 90's?  A girl like me could do as she pleased.  I could tease men, or not, as my heart fancied.  There were rape laws to protect girls like me.  Even Mike Tyson knew that.  So let some man invite me to his mountain chalet.  Janet Reno would protect me, and Oprah Winfrey too.  I'd do just what I wanted, when I wanted, and no more.
	I pressed my nose to the windowpane.  I watched as clouds drifted by.  Sometimes they obscured the view below, sometimes not.  I looked for Zeus in the darker clouds but did not see him.
	Some time later we broke through an underlying cloud bank and a vista of pure snow opened up before me.  Where there was no snow, there was rock.  It jutted up from the blanketing frost, rude, thrusting, certain of its destiny.  The snow attempted to calm the rocks, it seemed to me, soothe their passionate yearnings.  And indeed one day the snow would win entirely, submerging the once mighty precipices below the all-encompassing sea.  In their youth the mountains would reign, the snow submissive, content to be mere icing, ornamental, amongst the steep crags and cliffs.  In old age the mountains would be reduced to sloping, flabby hills, built upon by peasants, trod on by munching cows.  All would end as sand.  The ocean would cover up the remnants.  Crabs and sea urchins would burrow in the residue, like worms infesting a corpse.
	But I was in the mountains now.  Here vigor reigned still.  A wrong turn of our gliding airplane would dash me to pieces against some cliff-face.  Alive one moment, dead the next.  Bristling winds buffeted our craft as the pilot carefully nosed his way amidst the enclosing crags toward our destination.
	ÒOooh!  Look!  SantaÕs Village!Ó I cried out suddenly.  I pointed at a cluster of tiny dwellings down below.  As our plane banked I saw more, here and there, across the snow.  They were mansions, I realized, as our plane dropped down.  Toy mansions now, to my view, not just dots.  And then vehicles began to appear.
	The snow came down around us in soft bits of flurries.  We descended as if into one of those round glass bubbles you see in stores, shake them and see Frosty get his head coated with drifting flakes.  Down the plane slipped, circling, the buildings became more visible as we flew lower.  Different shapes, sizes, different types of construction.
	We bumped down on the runway.  The plane taxied a bit, then stopped.
	ÒTime to get out,Ó Kimberly grinned at me.  I collected my purse, my teddy bear.  The co-pilot came back and opened the door for us, tipped his hat to us as we stepped out.
	It was cold!  I drew my fur coat close about me.  Unsteady in my boots after sitting on the plane, I clambered down the gangway steps.
	A sleigh awaited us.  Big horses, shaggy hoofed, with the enclosing sleigh to protect us from the whistling, icy winds.  I was helped up into the sleigh by a uniformed footman.  As I sat down on the sleighÕs leather bench I felt my skirt, inside my fur coat, slip up to reveal my pantied ass.  Were it not for my coat, I would have been sitting on the leather, and it was moist with fallen snow.  My skirt was short, miniscule, daring in its sexiness to the point of being obscene.  Kimber had insisted that I wear it, as a sexy treat for myself, feeling my vulnerability even as I sat encumbered in the bulkiness of my fur wrap.  I was ambivalent.  Sure, it was sexy to wear the skirt, but what about when I took my coat off?  KimberÕs dress was just as short.  We were twin Òcherry-bombs,Ó she said, and the general had better watch out if we went off in his mansion.  Well, I was cherry, that was for sure.  Kimber just looked cherry, passing for seventeen, perhaps, if you didnÕt know her age.  She liked toying with menÕs minds, telling men she was too young for them, when in fact I suspected that she was vastly more experienced than most of the men in Buenos Aires, all put together.  She exuded sexuality.  Her walk, the casual toss of her head as she explained some finer sexual point to me, the swell of her bosoms, taunting in their bigness, bursting forth from her waif-like figure.

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

ATTENTION BILL BENNETT
by holy moly

	I talked to God last night.  I asked him about Bill Bennett (you know, the guy who wrote The Book of Virtues).  I expected to hear high praise.  But I didnÕt.  At first, God thought I was asking about Crassus.  
	ÒOh.  Bennett!  Sorry.  Yes, he has got it all wrong,Ó God said.  ÒWhen I created Adam and Eve, I put them in the GARDEN of Eden.  This should tell you something, right off the bat.  Man (and woman) is intended to be a vegetarian.  Broccoli, Celery, Beans, that sort of thing is fit for man to eat.  I put Adam in the Garden to name the animals, not to kill them.  
	ÒThere are 5 billion people on this planet today.  Many, if not most of them, go to bed hungry every night.  Many are malnourished from birth, resulting in a Ôtwilight mentality,Õ which prevents them from even experiencing life on this planet as a human, though they amble about in emaciated, human bodies.  Meanwhile, Bill Bennett and his pal Rush Limbaugh stuff their faces in New YorkÕs toniest restaurants, consuming entire tables of food.  This is what I call ÒFood Abuse,Ó and it is the highest sin.  ThatÕs right, one of my prophets (or somebody) screwed up the Table of Sins.  (He was probably a big eater, like Bennett.)  GLUTTONY is the greatest sin.  
	ÒBennett likes to go on and on about Sex being the greatest sin.  This is probably because his stomach is so big that he canÕt find his pecker.  Hey man, I created man and woman.  Why the fuck do you think I CREATED them with dicks and cunts?  Why the fuck do you think I said, ÒBe Fruitful and Multiply?Ó  In Genesis 17:2 I say to Abraham, ÒI will confirm my covenant between me and you and WILL GREATLY INCREASE YOUR NUMBERS.Ó  How the hell do you think I expected to do that, if not by plenty of Sex?
	ÒHumans are supposed to have sex.  They are supposed to create five billions of themselves, or more.  It is a test, to see if you are compassionate enough to see that every man, woman, and child gets his proper share of food.  The answer is not to ban sex, or strictly limit it, as Bennett wishes to.  BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY!  Then, having been fruitful, feed and care for your fellow man, just as my son Jesus fed and cared for you.
	ÒBENNETT!  I expect you to weigh 130 pounds next year, and I expect you to spend the SAME amount on food next year as you do today.  However, the ÒexcessÓ that you spend on food will be going to feed hungry children, not your fat ass.  You might have to talk less to accomplish this.  But if you quit talking, give up all your worldly possessions, and follow me; if you go forth into the barrios, the slums, and the ghettos and FEED my children (instead of pretending to ÒprotectÓ them while they starve to death), then you may enter into my kingdom upon your death.  Remember:  it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven.  

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