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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 111 alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Four
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Two
Snowflakes drifted down onto my nose. I stuck out my tongue, let one settle on it, savored the taste. Well, it tasted like water, but clean, fresh water. Icewater, for a girl from a hot city. Our horses stamped the snow, waiting for the whip to crack. They exhaled into the morning air. They were impatient. They wanted to be made to run, to feel their limbs working, to know that they were alive. Wiggling in my fur coat, my tummy a little queasy, uncertain, I wanted to feel alive too. KimberÕs party had awakened me. I felt a newfound need for men, not just a curiosity about them. My womb felt delicately empty, like a child feels when she wants something, but isnÕt sure, will asking for one thing necessitate dropping another? I used to pore over my Christmas list, making sure I didnÕt ask for one item to the omission of something else. I wanted the best present, not one almost as good. And I couldnÕt ask for something so expensive that it would wipe out three or four other things that I desired. Decisions, decisions. I used to love the days before Christmas, in a silly sort of way, worried that I might not be good enough, counting up my hoped-for booty, selecting this, deleting that. I think sometimes the fun was in the choices, weighing them. In my mind suddenly I saw a lewd picture of myself weighing menÕs balls. This sac has more in it, but his dick is not quite as big, that one is heaviest of all, but he is so thick, can I get him inside without splitting myself apart?
Kimber turned to me. There was a sly look in her face. Debbi sat between myself and Kimber. Debbi too seemed devilish, her eyes lively. ÒOpen your coat a little, Barbi,Ó Kimber told me. I watched, obeyed, as she and Barbi each slipped a hand within their coats. To my surprise they began fingering themselves upon their spots, upon their cunnies, rubbing their undies, not touching themselves directly but massaging the fabric of their teensy panties. Right where it counted. Debbi let out a soft moan, Kimber emitted a similar sound into the snow-falling air. The footman, now our driver, turned himself briefly about, saw the spectacle, showed no emotion. He was the only one in the sleigh, save ourselves. Directly he brought his whip down upon the horsesÕ rumps and set them off. We bounced upon the sleighbench as the vehicle lurched forward.
I stuck my hand in my coat, Kimber glowering at me, lest I should not participate in her game. Okay, I would play along, at least a little. How often did a girl get to take a sleigh ride to a mysterious mansion where a powerful man lay in wait for her? I touched myself. I rubbed, little whisper-rubs, trying not to arouse myself. Ah, I felt it then, in my rising excitement, my anxiousness. A moistening. A soft wettening in the crotch of my panties.
With rising gasps of pleasure we crossed the snow. Behind us the sleigh tracks defaced the freshly laid powder, ahead all was still virgin, gentle hills and slopes, broken only by the sky-pointing thrust of evergreens.
A bit later we arrived. It was a large house, old-looking, made with heavy lumber. Much of the surrounding forest had been cut down to build the mansions here, over the years. Now the whole place was a kind of private ski resort. The remaining trees were preserved for the pleasure they gave. They did not have to bear offspring any more to make houses for men. A chalet, when built, used imported lumber. But few new chalets were built now, Kimber had said, talking of our destination as we rode on the plane. Only the wealthy could afford to stay here now. The mansions were widely spaced, with acres of fresh snow between them, to give privacy. Inside, perhaps, things were more liberal, on the outside all was proper, with strict zoning and high taxes to keep out less fortunate residents.
The footman helped me down. My gloved hand in his. I stepped onto the snow. It crunched under my feet. He herded Kimber, Debbi, and I forward. I wondered if he saw that my hips swayed more when I walked now. My steps were pleasantly awkward. To the door he took us, trembling with need, inspired by our fingers, unfinished yet, for Kimberly wanted us only to tease ourselves, our host.
The door to the generalÕs chalet was huge. Perhaps it betokened other sizes. Quickly we were let in. A woman let us in, smiling. She had blazing red hair, as if her head were aflame, and seeing that it was natural, I wondered about her thatch below. The general himself stepped out to greet us, coming at us from a kind of vestry, off to the side, surprising us. My face was flushed as I greeted him. Graciously he took my coat himself, as the redhead relieved Kimber and Debbi. He wore his uniform, with all his shiny medals, as if he would look less virile in other attire. I smiled slightly. He smiled back, but with a predatorÕs gleam in his eyes. I was in his home, his guest, after all. I had come. (Well, almost.) Suddenly I realized that my short skirt was rucked up around my waist, my fanny showing in back, the skirt too high in front to block his view of my moist panties. Grabbing my skirt by its hem I pulled it down, flushed more deeply.
ÒIt is warm in Buenos Aires?Ó he asked me, eyeing my thighs, a little above.
ÒYes,Ó I breathed. He knew damn well I had not dressed this way because of the heat. My dress was too short, I could not bend without showing off my undies. Yet he was courteous enough to pretend. I liked that. Pretending was still my main game in life, dreaming and pretending. I admired him for not embarrassing me. I turned, saw Kimber and Debbi had got their skirts down.
ÒYou will enjoy yourself here,Ó the general said to me, gazing at me intently. His words had the air of a command. I nodded. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him, I donÕt know why. But I nodded politely, and liked him then, though I felt determined to remain true to my hymen for as long as I wished. I would lose it on my terms. Yes. On my terms and no other, weighing the menÕs testicles in advance, cutting off the hopes of one male only to advance those of another.
ÒThere is a bedroom waiting,Ó the general said. He spoke to me. When I did not respond he glanced over my head to Kimberly.
ÒThe girls need exercise after sitting so long,Ó Kimberly said in reply.
ÒOh, not me!Ó I piped up suddenly. I was recalcitrant, despite my busy finger in the sleigh.
ÒVery well,Ó the general said. ÒThere is a room for you three girls.Ó His emphasis on ÔgirlsÕ was derisory. ÒThe footman will show you. I am busy with another new guest, freshly arrived, as you are.Ó He turned his gaze to the redhead. There was wantonness in her eyes. ÒWe should not have interrupted your introductions, my pet. Shall we continue?Ó She exchanged smiles with him and he offered her his arm. In a moment they were gone.
The footman, grave as ever, moved us ahead of him down a long hall. Our high heels clicked on a parquet floor, the boards creaking sometimes, as if many females had come this way before, perhaps leaving heavier than they arrived, with swollen bellies. We went up a staircase, our bottoms peeking out from under our skirts, showing the footman the color of our panties. Down a corridor we went, and he let us into a bedroom. It was well-appointed, with cushions and a big four-poster canopied bed, a bureau, and a lockable jewelry box. The footman closed the door behind us and was gone.
I lay my teddy bear on top of the bureau, next to the jewelry box. There was a pitcher of steaming coffee there. Debbi poured a cup for herself, looking slightly melancholy. Kimber fluffed a pillow on the bed. She dropped onto the bed and spread her legs. Her skirt was up, showing her panties. Kimber raised her arms, put them behind her head. She eyed me. I loitered by the jewelry box, checking out all its little compartments.
ÒYou are a little devil,Ó Kimberly said to me.
ÒI did not want to, thatÕs all,Ó I replied.
ÒI wonder if heÕs fucking her now?Ó Debbi asked aloud. She smiled at me. ÒIn and out, in and out,Ó she teased.
ÒOh, stop it!Ó I cried. I had never been fucked and she knew it. She wanted to play with my mind and humiliate me over it.
ÒPerhaps we should have invited the footman to stay,Ó Kimber mused. Her eyes were dreamy.
ÒI donÕt want a foot man, I want a man whoÕs interested in me right there,Ó Debbi said. She pointed to the place where little girls fear being poked.
ÒYes, right there!Ó Kimber laughed. She drew up her legs, showing off her pantied cunt, letting her knees fall wide apart.
ÒOh, you two need a lecture from Bill Bennett!Ó I cried. With that I ran into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door.
Within the bathroom, I moped. There must have been another bathroom beyond the far wall, for I could hear water, laughter. We three were not alone in our journey to the generalÕs. There were others, many others, I guessed, for the house was huge and I had heard sounds of distant parties as the footman led us upstairs to our bedroom. I filled the tub and sprinkled in bubbles. I would be pure, I would be Venus, enshrouded in the bubbles, a seashell over my pussy to protect my purity. Cherubs would attend to me. I would stay in the tub always, ordering room service, ducking below the bubbles when it was delivered so the footman could not see me. I would nibble quietly, a mouse. A mouse in a big house. And I would never, ever Ôparty naked.Õ I was a reformed girl now, a good girl. Let the others have their fun. I would be the mansionÕs attending nun, looking after their holiness. They could consult me when the mood of penitence overtook them, when they were bubbling-over with sperm and wondering whose child they might have become impregnated with. Alas, the white-foam bubbles looked like sperm to me suddenly. Naked, my clothes gone, I leapt in among them. I could not resist. I found my finger busy once again, my lips soon gasped. Somewhere in the distance, in the bedroom, I heard twin female voices moan out an accompanying hymn. Kimber and Debbi were exploring the comforts of the bed together, making a wet spot together on the sheets, perhaps so the footman would have to come and change them. I rubbed myself more energetically. I was getting my exercise after all, as were they, though we all were as relaxed as could be. Dissolute, recumbent, not busy with our legs, not running, but with our naughty fingers only, skillfully touching. We had succumbed. I had succumbed. I knew I could not last much longer, a day perhaps, maybe two. Then I would have to give in completely. But would I surrender, or position myself so that someone else would force my surrender? That was the only question that remained, and it made me gulp hard, realizing it.
****
With a flick of my head, confident and aware of my sexuality as never before, I stood naked before the general. He sat in a chair, a big, high-backed, padded number that resembled a throne. He sat along the side of the large room I now found myself standing in. Ranged on either side of me were girls and young women, as nude as myself. A broad swath of plush carpet stretched out before us, wall to wall carpeting. Opposite the general, across the room from him, was a fireplace. It roared, giving off generous doses of heat to keep even us bare girls warm. Every effort had been made to provide for our comfort. We were to go crawling across the carpet, and wore long, elegant leather boots that topped out just above our knees in front. No rug burns would assail our knee caps. Our hands were gloved in soft animal skins. But I knew when I knelt there would be one part of me that might not be so well favored. My hiney had not been offered any protection at all. I was to be a horsey, as were the other girls. Already I spied several pony lashes in the hands of the spectators. Fleetingly I wondered if I shouldn't back out. But then what would I do, sit in my room, alone and bored? The general had been a perfect gentleman so far.
We'd arrived at his chalet three days ago. He'd given us sumptuous dinners, which he held every night for his assembled guests. There were other girls there, as guests, almost as young and definitely as pretty as I was. And there were some older women and men also. And servants, of course; butlers, cooks, maids. Despite the sexual goings-on in the rooms of the mansion the dinners were always polite, restrained, as if the guests needed someplace where convention still reigned, where morality was the norm, not the exception.
Every day we'd gone skiing. In clothes, of course, bundled up against the cold, enjoying the purity of the snow and its overwhelming whiteness. There'd been a party every evening, slightly risque, but still with the Ôsafe havenÕ decency standard prevailing, though one could easily slip off for more intimate adventures. I'd shared a hot tub with two gentlemen the first night. They were young, randy, though older than myself. College men. They seemed to like me for my affected purity, blowing bubbles with my bubblegum to seem younger still. They'd danced with me, then invited me to have a soak with them. We'd stolen from the party and theyÕd led me to a tub where, after a moment's hesitation, I'd undressed with them. We splashed about and kissed. Then I had them both sit on the edge of the tub while I sucked them off, weighing their testicles in my palms. That was all, nothing more. They didn't seem to mind my hesitancy at going all the way. I was young, after all. I could have been their little sister. They would have wanted to ÔprotectÕ me if I was, driving off boyfriends their age, making sure I only went out with my peers. But since, you know, I had them by the balls, they let me play with them. It was acceptable for me to date men their age, if they were the ones who would get to shoot in my face. It was all relative. And my relativities were fast coalescing in my womb.
We met again the next night and enjoyed a sauna together. Just the three of us, hot and bothered, enjoying our agitations, our perplexities. Amidst the billowing heat I sucked them off again. Last night was perhaps the best, so far. We went swimming in a heated pool, buck naked. Half of it was inside the chalet and half outside, under the glittering stars. We'd had a snowball fight on the decking next to the pool. I'd sucked them off at last, squeezing their balls and pumping them with my little fists more furiously than I'd ever done before. I wondered if I was turning into a little sexual tigress. A virgin tigress still, to be sure. I amused my mates, I think, my non-mating mates. They were veterans of frat parties, jaded; I was young, sweetly hesitant, yet I gave them their reward each night. We enjoyed each other. There were no commitments. They were both so strong, they would have destroyed each other competing to see which of them would pop my cherry. So instead they let me be in charge. And we played together like children, on my terms, they enjoying my youth and innocence even as I and they together set about corrupting it.
The general had not mentioned my reluctance again, seemed to accept it. Or, rather, he accepted what I knew now was inevitable. That, coming a virgin, I would not leave one. My cherry would be added to his trophy case, symbolically, of course. In his mind he knew that I would give it up here, in his home. To somebody. And I could not deny that he was almost certainly right. It scared me to think of it. I would be changed. I would be different. I would not be a scampering little girl anymore. I wondered if Helga knew I was here. Deep down, I guessed she did. There were secrets between her and Kimberly. Now I realized that theyÕd both been my age once, and theyÕd accepted the challenge at last, theyÕd stepped through the door of no return. And they cherished the result. I wanted to cherish it too, to love and be loved in the deepest way.
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
WILSON'S PENIS SHRIVELS
by holy joe
"Somehow I managed to wind up with the thankless task of converting one of Roller's porno novels," Wilson told me at the library recently over hotdogs and beans. "He sent his erotic novel about teenaged girls having sex to some porno book publishing company and (of course), it got rejected. But since they're currently a gay publishing company, Roller thinks he only got rejected because his novel doesn't feature young boys.
"I have been re-writing this shit, and it is harder than I thought it would be. Roller gave me a copy of GayMe, some dirty gay men's magazine, to inspire me. Well, it didn't work. I swear, my dick gets really small when I am re-writing this stuff. ItÕs tough, when youÕre straight, to think like people who are bent. Carol Horn is hornier than ever, thanks to Roller. She wants me to see a doctor about my penis. It is very shrivelled these days. I am afraid to take it out in the men's room."
At this point the librarian told us we were interrupting the children's story hour. We were forced to leave. That is the problem with libraries these days, they have no respect for intellectual discourse. I should think a man's physiological difficulties are more worthy of discussion in a library than some stupid story about a teddy bear! Write to the Columbus library and tell them that men have rights too!
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 111 EMISSION