Dear Jodie Foster, I need a date.
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 114    alt.sex.stories  

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

Chapter Two

	I glanced at the general.  My hair was perfect.  Not combed, but youthfully perfect, carefree.  Such men must like it this way, I knew, hanging down, loose.  My eyelashes fluttered, I sucked in a strand of saucy spaghetti.  I felt a droplet of sauce fall to my breast.  I lifted my gourd, my bosom, licked off the sauce directly with my tongue.  I looked at the general as I did it.  The men complimented my boldness.  But the general just gazed at me, half-watching, half-not, seeing through me as much as anything.  He seemed ambiguous.  Probably, he had entertained so many young ladies that he was now rather jaded.  HeÕd probably spent in the party room.  He was waiting to refill.  We would eat and he would fill his balls and want to come again.  At least I hoped so.  I felt emboldened by his diffidence.  He would love me above the rest.  He would remember me, though he forgot all the other girls.  
	I flicked my eyes toward the woman.  She seemed spoiled.  I admired her gown out of the corner of my eye.  It glittered, moulding what promised to be an amazing figure.  I had little doubt I might see her naked before the night was out.  But--I thought of the lash--would I be watching her mainly from between my legs, with my head upside down?  Kimber had told me of such things, being strapped to a trestle, legs apart, blonde hair falling, touching the floor.  The tender bottom your highest point.  Your ankles, wrists pinioned.  The lash would fall smartly.  It would make me hurt much more than our games in the party room had.  The thought made me tremble and I put it out of my mind.
	Again my eyes returned to the general.  I must not be too free with my eyes, I knew.  Perhaps I did not want to be.  I would be coy.  I kept my glance surreptitious.  As I appraised him a sense of recognition dawned within me.  Had I not seen him before?  On T.V., perhaps?  Those jowls.  That goofy haircut.  Was there a hairpiece atop that goofy haircut?  And the gut.  He tried to sit straight and tall, but you could not deny the gut.  Omigod!  Yes!  I realized it now.  He was no general.  He was Senator Exon, from America.  Down from the Capitol to take his vacation here.  A junket, paid for by taxpayers.  Could I be sure?  Was it really him?  I looked again, more boldly.  He seemed to shift under my gaze, wish I might look less perceptively.  I returned my eyes to my meal.  Yes, it was him.  I ate quietly.  I dwelt within my thoughts.  Mandy slurped up her spaghetti noisily.  ÒEat properly, dear,Ó the woman scolded her.  
	Time slipped by.  Naked, like little animals, Mandy and I devoured our meal.  We were hungry.  The running, crawling on our knees, the fright, the cages, the whips.  The sense of unease, uncertainty, yet within it all the SenatorÕs hand, guiding us, toying with us.  Two weeks ago I had been but a girl, excited by a log ride.  Now I was something more.  I was love, erotic feeling.  My bottom was cupidÕs bottom.  My hands played on the bowstrings of the menÕs hearts.  Summer pastures, ripe and lush, were the milk-white wineskins of my breasts.  I would nurture herds of children with them.  
	After dinner Mandy and I were blindfolded once more.  My tummy was full.  I felt slightly tipsy from the wine.  My breasts wobbled nakedly on my chest as they blindfolded me.  My hiney felt comfy.  I did not want it to be spanked again.  
	My chair was removed.  I was made to rise.  I felt my asscheeks sticking out on both sides of my panties.  They were jammed in my buttcrack from my sitting.  I tried to fix myself in behind, but my hands were slapped away.  I could not reach all the way back anyway.  My wrists drew the chain between them taut against my thighs.  But I could have got my panties out of my cunt, bent, flexed my knees, tried.  ÒWe like you as you are,Ó the woman in the elegant evening gown told me, Mandy.  
	With my ass cheeks hanging out, my little panties bunched in my crack, I was led down what seemed to be a long corridor, Mandy following.  The woman guided us.  The men followed.  The carpeting under our feet gave way finally to wood.  Eventually, passing into a room, we were on carpeting once more, especially plush and squishy.  I heard a door close behind us.  The woman unwound our blindfolds.  
	Mandy and I gasped as we took in our surroundings.  We were in a huge master bedroom, with an equally large bed.  There could be no doubt that it was the senatorÕs.  The bedcovers were already turned back.  The bed had gleaming brass posts with twin pairs of scarf ties already looped about them.  Next to the bed hung a single black whip, and beneath it was a nightstand busy with vials of ointment and cream.  A vase held colored condoms, arranged like the spreading petals of a flower.  Mirrors reflected our youthful beauty back at us.  Behind us stood the two men, the senator, and the woman.
	"You may remove your panties," the woman intoned.  "You won't be needing them here."  I did not know what to say.  I guessed a verbal response was unneeded, unwelcome.  A part of me wanted to go ahead, to get it over with.  IÕd teased and been teased.  It was time to fuck.  I did not know what to make of the whip.  It scared me.  Mandy looked like she might wilt.  But, boldly, we both made the same decision.  Did we have a choice?  We did not ask for one.  
	Apprehensively I drew down the wisp of fabric that passed for my panties.  They were so delicate, so chic, I hated to lose them.  But they were in the way, werenÕt they?  Of what?  I could only hope nothing bad would happen to me.  Looking in the mirror, I saw the men waiting.  They were bulging, down where it counted.  The senator too.  Ah, he liked me now, did he?  
	Of necessity, my wrists still chained, I drew my undies down by tugging on them in front.  As they passed snappily off my bottom I fearfully clenched my soft cheeks.  I looked over my shoulder at the senator.  His eyes were fixed on my ass.  The two gentlemen's eyes seemed pasted to it.  In a mirror I saw that the stripes from the horsey race had faded, leaving my butt mostly white.  Twin snowy globes, eyed by vultures.  I did not know what to do.  I slid the last morsel of my modesty down my thighs and stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor.  Mandy did likewise.
	"A pretty pair, are they not?" the woman asked the gentlemen with a toss of her blonde head.  For a moment I thought she was speaking of our discarded panties.  Alas, they were forgotten, except by Mandy and me.  The gentlemen eyeballed our asses, nodded.  
	"Perhaps an enema would help them to sleep?" one of the men asked hopefully.
	"It is still a bit early for sleep," the senator intoned.
	"Quarter to midnight," the man replied.
	"But they are big girls now," the woman said smilingly.  "I'm sure they're eager to stay up late and play with us adults."  
	A magical moment ensued then, seemingly timeless, where we stood simply staring at one another.  Mandy and I were raw naked, trembling deliciously.  We exchanged glances.  I knew only her first name, yet I felt sure that before the night was out I would be intimately acquainted with her privates, forced to lick and titillate them while she did the same to me.  69, it was called, wasnÕt it?  You go down on me, I go down on you.  Each is captive to the other.  With our guardians standing all around us.  Indeed it was then that the woman asked us to show our tongues.  Giggling we opened our mouths and stuck them out, impishly.  The men, eager for more than a mere view, unzipped themselves.  In their case I did not even know their names, yet I was about to be forcibly introduced to their manhood.  I hoped they would prove worthy of the attention I knew I would be required to lavish upon them.
	And they were!  Mandy and I gasped as their twin pulsing rods of flesh sprung from their flies and wiggled temptingly in the open air.  Only the senator remained zippered.  A slightly bored grin had settled on his face.  He'd seen all this before, too many times, perhaps.  It had become nothing more than a nightly ritual for him, a Packwood ritual, yet one he might as well partake of, for lack of any better sport.   
	"Come girls, I'm sure you will prove most delightful," the woman said, stepping forward and cupping us by our bottoms.  She turned us around, so that we faced the men directly.  Giving us each a gentle squeeze on our fannies she urged us the few paces forward toward our suitors.  Then, as if not wishing to waste a moment, she lifted her hands and pressed down upon our tousled heads.  We dropped to our knees upon the floor.  Our breasts jiggled.  Our mouths opened.  We had only to lean forward slightly to complete the lewd contact.  The men, randy and eager, thrust forward their hips and forced their bristling members twixt our lips.  
	My paramour drove himself in a full four inches, hitting the back of my throat and even driving down it a bit, causing me to choke.  The woman grasped him by his swollen balls and eased him back, letting me catch my breath.  I swirled my tongue around his rod to get the feel of him.  Then I sucked him encouragingly, and he pushed himself in again.
	"She is a virgin," the woman whispered to the man, pumping his testicles in her palm.  He started, his cock quivered, he nearly lost himself, uttering a startled groan.  Beside me Mandy was paying tribute, and her lover nearly lost his load.  She looked up at him with an admonishing glance.  I giggled at the misfortune I'd nearly caused.  My man groaned again, practically a torture victim at this point.  And it was his penis which was the focus of such exquisite torture.
	Soon both men were properly wettened by our saliva.  It was time for the gentlemen to be oiled, the senator said.  ÒSo that you will meet as little resistance as possible.Ó
	ÒDoing what?Ó my suitor asked.  His voice was haggard.  What answer did he hope for?
	ÒIn a moment both of you must display your manly vigor...up within my girlsÕ bottoms,Ó the senator said.  My breath caught audibly in my throat.  I rose, a bit shakily, a foal newly born.  This would be the last night of my anal virginity.  My bottom cheeks tightened at the prospect.  Debbi was right.  Our senator was "an ass man."  He eyed the two gentlemen with their finely displayed, hair-trigger cocks.  Could they hold themselves?  Both of them were desperate.  I guessed they had not had virgin girls before.  Was Mandy virgin?  I did not know.  She was my age.  The senatorÕs eyes fixed on the gentlemenÕs cocks like an eagle, eyeing prey.  ÒIt will be a tight fit, boys,Ó he said.  ÒIÕve been known to do a Bobbitt on boys who canÕt make the grade.Ó  They shivered.  Were they to master me, in my virginity, or was I somehow to be master of them?  I might wiggle, resist, make them cum when they might not have.  Did I hold the key to their continued virility?  It was strange, playing virgin goddess like this.  I glanced at Mandy.  She caught my eye.  We felt a rush of giddy power.  Yes, boys, have your little virgins, but beware.  We might be naughty.  The senator might cut off your offspring if you donÕt please us.
	I remained politely receptive.  The senator had Mandy and I offer up our palms.  The woman poured oil into our cupped hands and told us to grease up our stallions.  Laughingly we obeyed.  Sleek-limbed, naked, we were graceful, tossing our heads, smiling sweetly.  The men with their hairy chests and tufted groins, cocks sprouting, balls clenching, stood like soldiers in service to the Queen.  They relished our touch at first.  Soon, though, to their astonishment, the oil began to take on a burning warmth.  I could feel it upon my own hands.  They protested as more of the oil was poured into our palms and we were told to apply a second coat.  Chuckling to himself the senator watched.  The men became torn between the pleasure of our ministrations and the dastardly effect the oil was having on their loins.  They gaped down at their stiff members, eyes wide, confused.  
	"It burns," Mandy whined, for it was all over her hands as well as my own.  We both drew back our hips a little to avoid spilling any of the nasty stuff on our own privates.  The men, who at dinner had been quite certain that Mandy and I were there just to be used by them, seemed shocked.  We were their torturesses now.  With every loving stroke of our hands they stiffened all the more, agonizingly, the oil streaking their cocks with fire.  Mentally, IÕd been preparing myself for the fate of a pet.  A slave, nothing more.  Used, perhaps abused.  A living love doll.  Yet now the refined taste of the senator had exacted a price from the gentlemen themselves.  We were all in this together.  No one, it seemed, would escape without some sacrifice.  Mandy and I, our wrists still shackled, chains clinking, worked our stallions with ever more enthusiasm.
	The woman undressed herself, proving to be as stunning as I'd imagined.  Sumptuous bosoms rose startlingly up from her chest.  Above them her shoulders were waifishly frail.  Below them her ribs could be seen, each one, ready to be counted.  Her waist was waspishly thin, but her hips full and developed, ready to birth as many children as any man might desire.  Long slim legs stretched down to her feet.  I stared at them.  They were as small as any Japanese Geisha's.  Her toes wiggled with pent-up enthusiasm.  Ten little piggies, going to market, across a plush carpet.  Truly I would not be deprived by having to go to bed with such a beautiful female.  The senator thanked her for undressing and came round and tapped me on the shoulder.  I thought then that I must be made to pay obeisance to this woman.  My eyes showed a little fright at the prospect.  She was gazing at me sternly.  She was an Amazon, not to be crossed.  I might play with the men, my Tarzan gentlemen.  But Jane was another matter.  
	"Anoint her nipples," the senator said to the woman.  She poured a little oil on her fingers.  She applied them to my stiff titties.  
	I cried out, shocked.  The oil did not burn yet, indeed her touch was tantalizingly pleasant, but I knew what soon would follow.  I kept on frigging my lover, my Tarzan-man.  His eyes took on a pleased, vengeful look, even as he still suffered under my oiled touch.  ÒWhatÕs good for the gander is most definitely good for the goose,Ó he muttered.  
	I bit my lip.  Both my nipples glowed with the awful ointment, and I began to feel an itching upon them.  The woman pressed her pussy against mine.  She rubbed my muff with her own.  Our curls intertwined.  Our cuntlips sought, each of us indrawing, neither satisfied.  It happened all in a moment.  Jiminy Cricket told me to draw back but I remained fixed in place.  She whispered soothing words, baby sounds, lover's nonsense.  I gurgled a half-audible reply, loving her touch as she worked my nipples like combination knobs on some safe with treasure inside.  
	I threw my head back then, as tongues of flame seemed suddenly to spring from my teats.  They were on fire!  In my mind I saw them as they'd been when I was 8, budding churlishly, to the dismay of my mother.  Swelling, puffing, now they seemed consumed by the devil himself.  The woman twisted them now, almost severely, making my suffering yet worse.  The man opposite me, whose cock I still held, laughed grimly.  
	"Find her clitty," the senator said.
	"No!" I cried, but it was too late for resistance now.  My feet clanked with the chain that ran between them.  I lifted first one foot, then the other, thinking of fleeing, but I could not with such a cumbrous weight upon my ankles.  The woman's hands dove between my legs, sought my button, found it.  Beside me Mandy still stood with her bottom slightly back, to keep oil from splashing her pussy in front.  She looked over at me with frightened eyes.  She gripped her paramourÕs penis.  It was a thick vine.  He would use it to swing with her to safety.  
	"Ooh, yes!" I sighed helplessly.  I gaped at the ceiling, the woman.  My eyes roved round the room.  My tongue lolled.  The woman's fingertips brushed my aroused clitty.  Lightly she fingered it, pouring more oil on her digits.  The ointment was applied ruthlessly, making me squirm and wriggle.  My spot soon burned within.  I groaned at my misfortune.  Nothing else was touched save my clit.  She was precise, skillful.  Like a girl needing to pee I stomped, danced on the carpet.  But I could not relieve myself, even in the toilet.  I was truly in the hands of a master sadist, a senator who knew tricks beyond the MarquisÕ fondest imaginings.
	The woman moved to Mandy next, who stood like a fawn caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.  Slowly I was able to conquer my own agony and turn my head to watch her.  She shivered, nakedly, a child in a chilly bathhouse.  My lover and I grinned knowingly as Mandy succumbed to the oil.  When the deed was done the woman stepped back and admired us all.  The senator complimented her handiwork.  
	"Now they know what it means to sprout nipples and cocks in the house of the senator," he said laughingly.  "Such audacity must not go unpunished."
	"May I play also?" the woman asked.  Her eyes were wanton.  She loved the game.  Her hips weaved a little, seeking.  
	"Of course.  The girls will do you while I have the men present themselves to me for inspection," the senator said.
	Mandy and I were taken from our lovers and the bottle of oil, so wicked, was given to us.  We held it together, sharing it, afraid of the genie within.  I rubbed the bulbous base of the bottle.  It had a long stem, fluted, made of purple glass.  
	Like Hera, queen of the gods, the woman presented herself to us.  Her full breasts bounced on her chest.  She wriggled her bare hips.  Her legs were apart, letting us glimpse her cunny.  She offered us a better view, thrusting forward her fleecy pubis.  
	She seemed to expect a kiss from us.  We each pecked her on the cheek, then set about doing to her what she'd just done to us.  She squirmed under our touch. 

D R E A M G I R L S  L E T T E R S

Hot Horny Nine-Year-Old Needs Sex NOW!

	Elmer Twiddle writes:  ÒI canÕt find a condom that wonÕt fall off my dick.  I have a ÔHoward-Stern sizedÕ penis, you know.  It is very embarrassing to find a nice girl, put on a condom, and then, Ôoops!Õ  (Sorry, I dropped it.)  Not to get into this matter too deeply, but do they sell extra-small condoms?  I know they sell extra-large ones.  O.J. Simpson in particular needs those, given all the bodily fluids that are present when he is stabbing away in some girl.  But what about the rest of us?  What about those one billion men in Asia?  Certainly there must be SOME kind of a market here.  Never mind ribbed condoms, lubricated condoms, or colored condoms.  I just need one that will STAY ON.  Please help me if you can.  (I know, I know, you thought this message was about something else.  But who would read it if I had written, ÔExtra Small Man Needs Extra Small Condoms?Õ  I mean, really.  You people canÕt be THAT bored at work, can you?)Ó

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