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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Labors of Love part 1 of 10 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LABORS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
They met shortly after dark, so the neighbors would be less
observant. Checking his necktie, Chip rang the doorbell. He
straightened his sport coat. It was a large house, and it took a moment
for any sound or lights to awaken within in response to his pressing the
bell. Chip glanced over his shoulder at his Corvette. It stood about
20 feet away. The house’s front yard was more for show than for depth.
But it was a big, expensive two-story house. People preferred to spend
their money on house rather than yard in this neighborhood.
Chip waited. He did not wish to ring again. But he glanced
sideways at one of the big display windows by the front door, modestly
shrouded within by a curtain. Then, as if in answer to his anxious
glance, the curtain illuminated. A light had been turned on within. He
thought he heard footsteps. Suddenly, as if emerging from some silent
tomb, like a liberated princess, the woman answered. Chip broke into an
immediate smile and she smiled back.
“Hi, chip,” Annette said. Her eyes twinkled. She was a petite
blonde, but with a generous bosom and curvy hips beneath her wasp-like
waist. Her eyes scanned his physique as if looking for something. Chip
tried not to stare at her low-cut blouse and was successful, at least
momentarily. Annette wore a peasant blouse. It showed off the brown
tanned skin of her thin fragile shoulders as well as the upper curve of
her breasts. Annette drew Chip indoors and closed the door quickly
behind him.
“Hi, Annette,” Chip replied inside the foyer. In saying hello
to her, Chip inadventently let his eyes fall to her bosom. The overhead
light in the foyer cast a rich glow onto her breasts. They were
sumptuous, lily-white, full and firm, bouncing with every movement she
made. Annette, safe in her own house, wore no bra.
Chip cleared his thoat and felt an immediate erection pop into
his pants. He was young and it was uncomfortable. He wished he could
control himself better. Annette, being petite, had no trouble scanning
his trousers below his belt. She noticed Chip’s hard-on and her taking
note of it, with a little flick of her tongue across her lips, made poor
Chip even harder. Then Annette, pretending quite sweetly as if she’d
seen nothing at all, took Chip’s hand.
“Come, I want you to meet my husband!” she smiled. They walked
together from the tiled foyer into a carpeted living room. Beyond that
was a den and, standing with his back to them, pouring himself a drink,
Chip saw him. He was as tall as Chip but with broader shoulders. He
had on an expensive pair of slacks and a shirt, but no coat. “Dear,
Chip’s here.”
“Ah, yes, how nice to meet you, Chip. I’m Dave,” Annette’s
husband said. He turned and for a moment Chip thought he had been
introduced to Sean Connery, for the man looked very much like him,
although he would have been the Bond-Connery, young and lacking a
beard. But he was at least a decade older than Chip.
“Pleased to meet you,” Chip said. He almost added “Sir” from
his four-year stint in the military but he but it off at the last
moment. Dave extended his hand and Chip took it and they shared a warm
handshake.
“I understand you met my wife at the health club?” Dave asked.
He stirred his drink and then took a swallow. Annette, still holding
Chip’s hand, squeezed it.
“Uh, yeah,” Chip replied. “I lift weights a lot. I finally
have time now that I’m out of the military.”
“Excellent,” Dave said. “We’ll have to lift together
sometime. You look like you could add some extra pounds if you keep it
up.” Dave, not quite able to check his pride at his own physique,
flexed his shoulders.
“Yeah, I’m kinda skinny, but I guess with my broad shoulders...
y’know,” Chip felt embarrassed talking about his goals.
“The next Arnold Schwarzennegger I’m sure,” Dave said. He
grinned. “Drink?”
“Just a beer,” Chip answered.
“There’s some excellent Blue Boar Pale Ale in the fridge, by
Weinhard,” Dave suggested. “Why don’t you get it, honey?” Dave looked
at his wife.
“Sure,” she smiled. Annette turned and sashayed quickly from
the room. Chip watched her depart, open-mouthed. She wore a short
skirt and every flick of her sexy ass threatened to show her undies.
Chip caught a glimpse of them; modest white schoolgirl undies that he
had to laugh at a little, for their plans for the evening were most
immodest indeed.
“You have a great wife,” Chip said when Annette was gone.
“Thanks,” Dave replied. He hadn’t failed to notice Chip’s
condition below the belt when the young man entered the room. He knew
the younger male wasn’t sporting a bulge in his crotch for him.
“You’re not married?” Dave asked.
“No. I just got out of the Army,” Chip answered.
“Yes. Right. Keep you busy, do they?”
“I was in Bosnia two years, then, well, just busy and stuff, I
guess,” Chip answered.
“And shy,” Dave thought. But he didn’t say it, for a
soft-spoken addition to his relationship with Annette was just what the
two of them wanted. Someone young, not pushy, someone whom they could
both enjoy sharing their love life with and then who would have the
courtesy to excuse himself.
“Here’s your beer,” Annette said. She bounced back into the
room, her shoulder-length blonde curls dancing and her bosom, so
discreetly but deliciously displayed, shaking and quivering with her
every step.
“Thanks,” Chip smiled. The beer was already open and he took a
quick swig. It was sweet. He hadn’t had much time for drinking beer in
the army, being underage three out of his four years of his stint. He
still wasn’t terribly used to the taste.
“Were you guys talking about me?” Annette asked. She seemed to
love being the center of attention.
“Not actually, dear,” Dave said in a voice that seemed to scold
her a little.
“Well, dinner’s ready, anyway,” Annette said. She bowed her
head a little to show she didn’t wish to be pushy.
“Then let’s eat! I’m starving,” Dave said. “Chip?”
“Sure,” Chip replied. But inside his stomach was all tied up
in knots for he hadn’t gotten laid since leaving the army. Annette took
his hand sympathetically. He smiled at her and Dave waited for them to
go ahead. She gave him a tug and he let her lead him into the dining
room.
Gallantly Chip seated Annette. Dave watched. Then the two men
sat down. Dave was favored with the head of the table, as the master of
the house. Annette sat right around the corner from him, and next to
her, like an eldest son, was Chip. He glanced again at Annette’s
breasts and mused that the woman was barely older than himself; perhaps
a year younger. She tossed her blonde curls back and reached for their
salad. It was Fennel and Endive Salad, with a light dressing of Wheat
Beer. Carefully Annette served Chip first, then her husband Dave.
Finally she served herself.
They ate quietly. Annette revealed that she was taking a class
in human anatomy at the local college.
“Doctor?” Chip asked, his mouth full.
“No, I’m just studying to be a dietician,” Annette answered.
Chip felt somehow relieved. Dave was an imposing presence enough.
“How about you, Chip? Are you considering college?” Dave
asked.
“Sure,” Chip replied.
“Annette can probably help you fill out the forms if you decide
to go.”
“That would be great,” Chip answered.
“You’d make a great doctor,” Annette smiled at Chip.
“Thanks,” Chip answered.
“My husband’s a vice president at a bank,” Annette said.
“Oh. Maybe I’ll need a loan to go to college,” Chip suggested.
“The college would have that available,” Dave answered.
“Student loan office.”
“Oh yeah,” Chip said. He considered asking about a loan for a
car, a new car to replace his aging Camaro. But then he remembered that
he was being loaned something much more valuable this evening, if all
the right cards fell into place. He coughed and forked another bit of
salad into his mouth.
“Are you okay?” Annette asked.
“Yeah,” Chip replied.
“Do you need another beer?” she asked.
“No, really, I don’t,” Chip answered. She seemed to sense his
nervousness and smiled. “Don’t eat if you can’t,” she whispered. She
squeezed his thigh with her small, pink-nailed hand.
“It’s very good,” was all Chip could say in reply.
Dinner consisted of grilled pork tenderloin with golden ale
gravy. Chip wondered if all the beer was intended to loosen him up. He
felt loose enough, at least with regard to the decision they were all
heading towards. Just his stomach and his crotch were tight. The beer
did taste good, though.
“Better than Budweiser,” he smiled at Dave.
“She likes using beer on food,” Dave replied. “Doesn’t drink
much out of the bottle, but likes it on her food.”
“Yeah, great,” Chip replied. Annette took a small sip of Blue
Boar. Her bottle was mostly full. She savored the taste of it as if
the boar might have added something extra just for her.
“Have you ever tried swinging?” Dave asked as the meal wound
down.
“Not really. Read about it in the Army, though. In
Penthouse,” Chip answered.
“Of course,” Dave replied. Annette giggled. She excused
herself to get their dessert and, for the moment, there was nothing but
silence, the two men, sitting apart, eating, looking down at their
plates. Then annette returned with jello parfaits.
“We try some swinging now and then,” Dave said. Annette
returned to her seat and sexily began spooning her jello into her
mouth. It was topped with whipped cream and the cream got on her upper
lip. She licked it off, then spooned in more jello and reacquired the
white cream mustache. She licked her lips again.
“It’s hard to find the right person,” Annette said. She looked
up at Chip with wide, innocent eyes, as if discussing some relative’s
marriage. Except they were discussing themselves, not someone else.
And it hardly fit within the Pope’s definition of marriage.
“Yeah, I guess so, but...” Chip let his voice trial off. He
smiled sheepishly at Annette and couldn’t help admiring her exposed
bosom.
“It has to be someone handsome of course,” Annette said. “And
not some old fogey. Preferably not even someone Dave’s age.” She shot
a glance at her husband. “Sweet as he is.” Her eyes returned to Chip.
“When I saw you pumping iron, working so hard,” she smiled.
“I looked like just your type, eh?” Chip smiled.
Annette scrunched up her nose and returned to her jello.
“Well, it has to be someone who can Fuck,” she said in a sweet,
schoolgirl voice. “I mean, that’s mainly what he’s for. Don’t you
agree, dear?” she asked her husband. Sexily she plopped a big gob of
jello on her tongue.
“Yes, that most certainly,” Dave said. “But of course
sometimes we invite a girl over, when it’s my turn to have my fantasies
realized. It’s too bad that stewardess left.”
“Oh, you!” Annette scolded her husband. She looked at Chip.
“He makes me have sex with a GIRL! I don’t really like it. Do you like
seeing two girls make love?”
“Uh, well, in Penthouse I do,” Chip replied. His penis felt
absolutely engorged in his pants and he wondered if there was any way he
could get some room for himself in his trousers. He didn’t want to
reach down and yank at his pants. It would seem so immature, doing
that.
“So what do you say, Chip?” Dave asked. “Care to spend the
evening with us?”
“Sure, I guess so,” Chip said. He spooned jello into his mouth
without looking at either Dave or his wife.
“Well, dear, I guess we should show Chip our playroom, then,”
Annette suggested. “Should I do the dishes first?”
“No, I don’t think Chip would appreciate that,” Dave replied.
Chip, unable to stand the pain in his groin, reached down and yanked at
his crotch to try to give himself room.
“Oh,” Annette said. She glanced at Chip. Her eyes seemed huge
as saucers and her mouth was a little O, like a rosebud waiting to be
forced to open into a rose.
Dave stood up. Chip glanced at the man’s crotch and thought he
saw a slight bulge. Obviously ten extra years of sex helped a man keep
himself down until it was time. Chip stood up, expecting Annette to
reach for his hand. Instead, she sat like a little rabbit between the
two risen men. She stared at her jello but didn’t spoon any more of it
out of the glass.
“Stand up, Annette,” Dave ordered his wife. “We’re not going
down without you.”
Chip, sensing she wished to be fey, reached out himself and
stroked her bare shoulders. He felt bashful but at the same time he
sensed, like an errant schoolboy, that he could pull down her blouse if
he wished. He found the sensation irresistible. Carefully pushing the
sleeves of her blouse further down her arms, as if asking permission, he
then drew the blouse down over her nipples. They popped out erect and
hard as coral. They were pink, pink as her glossy lips, with a touch of
red.
Annette sat unmoving. Chip felt himself trembling. He reached
within the lowered blouse and hefted out Annette’s gorgeous bosoms. He
squeezed them. They were delicious to touch and he wanted to bend down
and suck at them like a child.
Dave cleared his throat.
Quickly, as if afraid of his own desire, Chip pulled Annette’s
blouse back up. He remembered once when he’d been in a girl’s bedroom
and her father had come motoring up the drive. They’d been furtive,
quickly dressing, their love only half-complete.
“I’m sorry,” Chip said in a broken voice.
“It’s okay, Chip,” Annette said. She clasped his hand to her
bosom before it could dart away. A silence followed, Annette still
staring at her half-eaten glass of jello, Chip cupping her nearest
breast. As she held his hand he began to palp the warm full globe
beneath his fingers. It felt so deliciously feminine. She held his
hand, letting him feel her. Her blouse remained a barrier between his
hand and her breast but he had no trouble feeling the perking of her
nipple. He traced it with his fingers when he was done squeezing the
globe itself.
“Yes, that feels nice,” Annette said suddenly. She slid his
hand off her bosom and stood up quickly. She glanced down at herself
and straightened her peasant blouse, holding it where it covered her
breasts and pulling it up a little to keep herself modest. Her fingers
were small, like little darts. Her nails were sharp. Watching her,
Chip wondered if her nails might tear open the front of her blouse, but
they didn’t. She handled her blouse by its upper hem, carefully.
“Chip,” Dave said, as the two men waited chivalrously for the
only female between them to straighten her blouse. “There may be a
little pain involved in our lovemaking.”
“I’m already in pain,” Chip replied. He was full in the front
of his trousers and he knew Dave could easily see how erect he was in
his jeans. Dave pointedly cast his eyes to Chip’s groin.
“Yes, well, obviously that’s got to be a little painful,” Dave
agreed. “But I mean imposed pain, you know, bondage and stuff,” Dave
said.
“I-I think I can handle it,” Chip replied. He looked with
mesmerized eyes at Annette, who still stood with her back to them, at
her place at the table, straightening her blouse. She was fixing her
sleeves now, pulled down by Chip. Suddenly she dropped her hands and
spun about, her curls flying. She smiled at Chip.
“You’ll like our basement,” she said. She glanced at his
trousers. “My you’re big. I’d unzip you but I don’t want you drooling
all over my carpet.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Chip answered. He felt a little like he was
in a daze, with such a luscious babe standing in front of him, obviously
sexy and not minding the least his big impolite boner.
The three of them drifted out of the dining room. There was a
sense of urgency and yet they moved languidly. Annette took Chip’s hand
to reassure him. Yet she seemed to seek a bit of reassurance from him,
perhaps that she was acceptable, and Chip squeezed her hand to let her
know she was the finest creature he’d yet laid eyes on in his 21 years.
“How old are you?” Chip asked suddenly as Dave opened a door
and let them pass.
“20, not legal to drink yet,” Annette sighed. Then she
smiled. Her breath was a sweet mixture of jello and beer. She tugged
on Chip’s hand and he needed little encouragement to walk with her down
a steep flight of stairs. As they took the first steps Dave, behind
them, flicked on a light downstairs.
Chip’s eyes nearly popped out to the size of his groin when he
saw what Annette and Dave had waiting for him. It was a dungeon, not a
basement. All around the room he saw equipment of various types, like
an exercise room. But the machines were made of wood and leather, and
had chains attached, and straps. In one corner pillows and cushions
were piled, as if to give a resting place to the weary. On the opposite
side of the room, offering up a plume of steam, a jaccuzzi could be
heard bubbling. Chip saw no bed, but he suspected a male rarely escaped
this room without leaving something behind. In fact, when Annette
squeezed his hand he almost put something right into his pants.
Annette let go of Chip’s hand and walked over to a small
bench. There, piled neatly, appeared to be some bits of fabric. She
was joined by Dave, and the two of them fussed for a moment, choosing
first one bit of fabric and then another. Finally Annette walked over
to Chip.
“Here,” she said. She extended her palm to him. Draped within
it was an inconsequential bit of nylon. “Take everything off and put
this on,” she said.
Chip gaped at the little item cupped in her palm. Slowly he
raised his hands and lifted from her outstretched hand what turned out
to be a minimal jockstrap. It was too small to be a swimsuit, but
nonetheless it had a flowery pattern on it. Poinsettas, backed with
ocean blue. The jockstrap-swimsuit had a thong back. Unlike a jock, it
lacked the additional straps that circled the thighs. Instead there was
merely a waistband, less than an inch wide. Hanging down from that was
a pouch, much too small for his penis, though Chip realized he was
expected to try to stuff himself in anyway. Extending back from the
barely-there pouch was a thong, which no doubt, in some fantasy,
expected to cover his bulging balls and then run up between his
buttcheeks to rejoin his waistband at the back.
“How am I supposed to get into this thing?” Chip asked. He
shook the suit and hoped that a bigger pouch would somehow fall out for
his dick to fit into.
“That’s your problem, sweetie. You should see what I have to
wear,” Annette smiled. “At least you don’t have to tie any bows.”
“I hope not,” Chip said. “Altough a bow would no doubt double
the amount of material I have to work with.” His cock felt painfully
engorged and he tugged at the nylon pouch. At least it wouldn’t be as
imprisoning as his damn Levis jeans.
“Oh, and put this on too,” Annette said. She smirked. She
handed him a flanged plug.
“What the fuck?” Chip asked. “This is... I’ve seen one of
these... this is a butt plug!”
“Just shove it in. There’s some lube in the dressing room if
you need it,” Annette said.
“I told you it would be a little bit painful, Chip,” Dave
said. He was still at the bench. He was holding a pair of black lycra
slacks for himself.
“But, sir,” Chip stammered.
“You’ll hardly feel it when you’ve got yourself up my wife,”
Dave replied.
“It actually makes the act of doing it more enjoyable,” Annette
whispered.
“Damn. It won’t make me... gay or anything... will it?” Chip
asked. His voice came out in a broken soprano, like a 15-year-old.
“Not at all,” Dave reassured him.
Annette smiled and pinched Chip’s thigh encouragingly. Her
eyes begged him to be a good sport.
“Shit,” Chip swore. But he turned away, Annette beaming after
him, still holding the plug as well as the nylon swimsuit.
“Your dressing room’s over there,” Annette said. She gave his
ass a playful slap. “Hurry, we want to start playing!”
“Okay,” Chip agreed. He walked over to the place Annette had
indicated. There was a simple curtain, covering what appeared to be an
alcove in the wall. He pushed back the curtain and saw it was a small
alcove, with a wooden bench, a mirror, and a hook in the wall for his
clothes.
Chip spun his head about one last time, anxiously, but saw that
Annette and Dave were already retreating into separate dressing rooms of
their own, near to the bench where the clothes had been laid. He
wondered if there was anything better he might cop from the bench.
Squinting his eyes, he saw only female nightgowns. Then, as if urging
him on, he suddenly felt as if he might spill in his pants. Quickly he
darted into the dressing room. Yanking at his belt, then his button and
his zipper, he got his pants open. He still held his swimsuit in one of
his hands the whole time, it was so small. And in his other hand he
managed to grip the plug Annette wanted to see him put up his butt.
With relief Chip shoved his pants and his underpants down. His
cock sprang out like a liberated snake. Worriedly he gazed at it and
then down into his underpants to see if he’d lost any of his load.
There was a wetness of pre-cum in his underpants but no sperm. Chip
breathed a sigh of relief. Then, contemplating the swimsuit Annette had
given him, he wondered if he wouldn’t be better off shooting his cum
first before trying to fit himself into it. Well, he couldn’t do that,
he told himself. Where would he put his sperm? There was no toilet in
this tiny dressing room. And he might prove less useful without his
load. He didn’t want to disappoint his hosts, especially Annette.
Chip heard squeals across the room as he hung up his clothes.
He guessed Annette had gotten her nightie, or whatever it was, on and
was getting her husband to tie her into it. She’d said it had lots of
bows. Quickly Chip stepped into the swimsuit she’d given him. He
pulled it up his legs and contemplated his erection. How the HELL was
he supposed to get this on? Then he remembered the butt plug. He
dropped the suit to the floor and stepped out of one of the leg holes.
On the wooden bench, where he’d laid down the plug, was a jar of
vaseline. He picked it up. It was new. With some effort he twisted
the jar’s lid open. His hands were shaking. He dipped the plug in the
vaseline. Drawing it out all gooey, except for the flange, he bent
forward and looked at himself in the mirror.
“My Army buddies would laugh all the way to Russia and back
again over this,” he told himself. The mirror was full length and as he
spoke to himself he couldn’t help noticing his big dick wobbling around
in front of him, sticking out from his legs like the huge neck of a very
long beer bottle. His balls felt impossibly swollen and he had a deep
desire to shoot.
“Ungh,” Chip said. He pressed the plug between his ass
cheeks. His anus refused to budge. He’d never had anything go UP him
before! “God damn this is stupid,” he swore.
Suddenly the curtain swooshed open. Without bothering to close
it, a beaming Annette stepped inside. She was dressed in a darling
teddy. It was white, like a baby doll, and sported a little
flutter-style bottom that tried, but failed quite spectacularly, to
cover her bottom. It hung down from her waist like some obscene skirt.
Underneath it, for it was see-through, the teddy, also see-through,
covered her pubis and dwindled to a thong that ran beneath her and then
up the crack of her bottom. In back the thong had been tied to her
teddy with a big pink satin bow. Pink bows served as shoulder-straps
for the teddy, each being separately tied atop Annette’s shoulders.
Finally, where her bosom brooded, full and round and inviting, the teddy
had drop-away cups that had been carefully tied up with pink bows to
keep her bosoms from falling out. The cups, though, were see-through
like the rest of her teddy, hiding nothing. Annette’s hair was put up
in a sexy chignon.
“Hi sweetie, having trouble?” Annette asked. She gazed at
Chip’s penis but was strictly business, taking the butt plug from him.
She stepped behind him and contemplated his bare ass. Lightly she
placed a palm on it. He had a white bottom, from swimming. The rest of
him, except where his real swimsuit covered him in front, was richly
tanned. “Bend forward more,” Annette advised Chip.
Chip’s penis was too desperate, and Annette too beautiful and
promising, for him to refuse. He felt like an idiot but nonetheless he
bent over and put his hands on his knees. He let her pry his ass open
with her fingertips.
“You understand that you must be a little bit below my husband
to protect his ego,” Annette consoled him. She spread his buns apart
and seemed to relish touching him there. Chip felt the smooth glide of
the vaselined butt plug intrude between the halves of his seat. It’s
nub bumped against his tight anus. “This helps show your position,
relative to him,” Annette said. “It’s nothing, really. You’ll like the
sensation of having it in you when we...”
“Ouch!” Chip roared. Annette’s last word was drowned out by
his shout. With firm feminine hands Annette stuck the wide-mouthed plug
with its wider flange up Chip’s bottom. She twisted it a little to make
sure it was in tight. Then she let go of his seat. There was a kleenex
box next to the vaseline. She drew a kleenex from it and wiped her
fingers.
“You’re tight,” she smirked at Chip. “Was that your first?”
“And my last,” he assured her. She looked at his erection and
blushed.
“Get your swimsuit on,” she said.
“I almost creamed in my pants, they were so tight,” Chip warned
her.
Annette put one of her small fingers against the pee slit on
the end of his cock. “I have confidence in you,” she said. “Anyway,
you’re bigger and older than me, so be a big boy and don’t lose
yourself. Do you think I don’t notice this little thong thingy? It
fits right between the lips of my cunt.” Annette squatted a little and
thrust her hips forward and lifted the frill-dress that circled her
hips. Chip caught a glimpse of the honeypot that waited for him if he
did as they wished. A small thong, perhaps only an eighth of an inch in
width, bisected her cunny. Her lips closed over it, it was so small,
and he had no doubt that when she walked it rubbed quite noticeably
against her.
“Yeah but you’re a girl,” Chip replied.
“Do you think I like being made wet?” she asked. “I mean, you
know, it just keeps on rubbing.”
“I definitely want you wet,” Chip replied.
“Oh, you!” Annette said. She gave the cheek of his face a
slap, but lightly, as if afraid she might hurt him. Then she pranced
from the dressing room and was gone. Chip watched her small lovely
bottom, hopelessly bared by the decorative frill of a dress she wore
with her teddy. It was designed to rise in back to cover her less there
than in front. As a result she looked more like some naughty show-pony,
all decked out in pink ribbons, than a girl. Chip pulled the curtain of
his dressing room shut. He could barely stand to watch her. She made
him stiffer than he already was, and he was already far too big for the
little swim-thong she’d given him.
Some time later, having somehow managed to struggle into his
suit, Chip emerged from his dressing room. The pouch which was supposed
to cover his penis instead wedged in on it from all sides. It balled
his cock up and simultaneously lifted it. He looked like a walking
codpiece, nothing but manhood, his poor dick displayed in front of him
in blue and poinsetta-red nylon. His balls hung out on either side of a
little thong that traveresed between them, then ran back farther to
wedge itself in his ass. Only the buttplug, sticking up from between
his cheeks, managed to lift the thong out of his seat, where it crossed
over the plug’s flange before descending briefly into his crack again
and then escaping it to join up with his suit’s waistband.
Annette stood across the room from him. She had one finger in
her mouth, contemplatively. Hanging from her wrist was a handcuff, one
of the metal cuffs still dangling free.
“Well, you look all ready to party,” Annette said, smiling at
Chip and taking her finger out of her mouth. Then, all of a sudden,
behind her, shocking her a little, her husband emerged from his dressing
room. Chip stopped in his tracks.
Dave wore a hood. It covered his face down to the level of his
mouth. There were eye holes cut into it and his eyes glared out first
at Chip, then at Annette. He cracked a whip and his wife leapt up where
she stood and then retreated quickly from him. She crossed the room to
Chip and he found himself receiving her into his arms.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Annette asked, turning her head back
toward her husband even as she looped her arms up around Chip’s neck.
For a moment Chip considered, not sure where she was asking him about
her husband, or vice versa. Finally he decided she might be asking her
husband and, willing to take any compliment he could get, Chip said
nothing.
Dave advanced implacably toward Chip and his wife. Absently,
but with a sense of menace, he snapped a large bullwhip in front of him
and out to the side as he walked. His hood, leaving his mouth revealed,
which was grimly set, continued down his back and over his shoulders to
form a black cape. Yet the cape stopped just short of his buttocks,
leaving them bare in the cool air of the dungeon. In addition to the
hood and cape he wore tight spandex trousers. But they lacked a zipper,
and so the halves of the fly were open. Through the unzipperable fly
stuck Dave’s penis. It was large, perhaps even larger than Chip’s,
still stuffed so painfully in his poinsetta swimsuit. In addition his
balls showed, but they were tightly drawn up with excitement and simply
rolled behind and a little under his dick, like a giant hairy softball.
Dave’s pants were stuffed into polished knee-length boots. Chip
wondered if Annette had polished them for him. Dick joggling like a
long erect hose out in front of him, Dave approached the new couple,
Annette and Chip’s. Annette squeezed Chip’s groin hopefully, as if
praying for rescue. Chip felt like Tarzan, except Tarzan, in his animal
skin loincloth, would have been much better clothed than he was.
Fearing he might be struck right on his bulging groin, Chip
nonetheless put himself between Annette and Dave’s whip. He tucked the
bosomy girl under his arm and got himself out in front of her.
“I hope you’re not planning to do anything dangerous with that
whip,” Chip said to Dave.
“Or to your groin?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, that too,” Chip replied. Annette gave him another
encouraging squeeze right where he needed it least.
“It looks to me like you’ve got more trouble from her than from
me,” Dave replied. “She’ll have a sore bottom by morning, that’s all I
can say. Won’t you, dear?”
“I hope not,” Annette said meekly. Chip reached down and gave
Annette’s plump little ass a squeeze.
“She’ll be sore, I agree with that,” Chip said. He stuck a
finger between her legs, making her flinch. Annette let out a little
squeal as Chip dug into the lips of her labia. The thong of her teddy
managed to block his dig.
As the two men faced each other down, Annette managed to slip
free of both Chip’s encircling arm and his finger. She danced quite
happily over to a nearby table. A moment later she returned with a
bottle. She kissed Chip on the cheek. Then, with a quizzical look on
her face, she put a finger into the front of his swimsuit. She drew it
open and, without warning him, she poured the contents of the bottle
into his suit.
“Yeeeow!” Chip cried. It was more from surprise than from
actual pain, but the lotion that Annette had poured quite quickly into
his suit was hot oil! Chip looked down at himself and watched as
Annette let go of his suit. It snapped shut, then opened again as his
penis, ever more erect (though that seemed hardly possible) swelled
within his suit.
“Oh, that oil is hot!” Chip announced. He felt the oil run
from within his crotch down the sides of his legs, escaping out the
barely-there ‘legholes’ of his suit. “Why did you do that?” he asked
Annette.
“To lubricate you,” she smiled. “You do plan to do something
with that penis of yours, don’t you?”
“You’re a slut,” Chip said to her.
“That’s probably why I’ll be sore in the morning,” Annette
replied. Screwing up her face like a child contemplating some
punishment, she rubbed her hands on her bottom. Her husband snapped the
whip against the floor. Annette shivered. Then, composing herself, she
tossed a loose blonde curl of her lovely hair from her eyes and smiled.
“I guess in the meantime, though, I’ve got two big bad men I’ve got to
somehow keep from fighting each other. Gentlemen, let’s have tea. When
I was a little girl my mom always had a tea party for me and my sister
when we got into each other’s hair.”
Quite bizzarely, but with both Chip and Dave mesmerized by the
little blonde, Annette took first Chip by his penis and then her
husband. She drew both of them over behind a rack, where perhaps she
might later be punished, and Chip saw a tea set on a small purple and
green child’s table.
Arranged around the table, which should have been in some
children’s center, but was instead marooned amidst torture machines in a
dungeon, were three small chairs. They lacked backs, and, being of
molded plastic, were in the shape of toadstools. Annette made each of
her paramours sit down on a toadstool. Dave, turning away from Chip to
sit down, revealed that his pants had no seat. So both men sat down
bare-assed on the toadstools, their bare hairy asses sitting where prim
little girl’s dresses belonged. Annette, herself lacking any covering
over her bottom, except her frilly ‘skirt,’ which was in fact too short
in back to cover her ass, sat down bare assed on a toadstool of her
own. The three were quite crowded around the little table. The men had
to sit sideways, their knees drawn up to their chests and their penises
sticking knob-like through their hairy legs. Annette also sat sideways,
but much more decorously, as if she’d continued to celebrate tea parties
right through her teenage years. She was facing toward Chip and with
just an arch sideways of his head he could see her lovely thong-threaded
pussy between her drawn up thighs.
There was a hot plate on the table and some thoughtful soul,
perhaps Annette herself while the men were ‘dressing,’ had turned it
on. Atop the hot plate simmered a kettle of tea. It was a Disney
kettle, made to resemble some character from Alice in Wonderland.
“Now I expect you guys to be on your best behavior at my tea
party,” Annette said. Then she noticed Chip had pulled down the front
of his trunks before sitting down. “Chip! Put your penis away,
please,” she admonished.
“Well, his is out,” Chip said, pointing (in more ways than one)
to Dave.
“Dave is my husband. He’s allowed to show his penis to me,”
Annette said. She smiled at him, but waited to pour his tea until Chip
had managed to stuff himself back into his suit.
“Thank you, Chip,” Annette said.
“Mmmm, good tea,” Dave said, pouring some into his mouth.
Annette had added some brandy to it to give it more kick. He looked at
Chip. “How many lashes on her bottom do you think she should get for
pouring hot oil into your swim trunks?”
“A lot,” Chip answered, making Annette give a little shiver.
“I won’t defend her bottom again from her.”
“Well what are you going to USE, dear?” Annette asked. “I mean
it is cool down here but I don’t really need my bottom warmed too much.
Especially if I’m busy sitting on it.”
“I’ll let Chip decide,” Dave answered. “He looks merciful.”
Chip sipped his tea and considered. He’d read about girls
getting whipped, in Penthouse of course, but he’d never actually seen
such a thing. Of course in the Army guys were always boasting that
they’d whipped their girlfriend but he suspected it was mostly bravado.
“Do you really want your ass whipped?” Chip asked Annette.
“Of course not,” she answered primly, sipping her tea. She
hadn’t added the brandy just for the benefit of the men. She guessed
she might need it herself. “But I have a husband who likes seeing it
done. I guess it comes with the territory.” She glanced at her
husband. “I wish you’d told me about all your perversions before we got
married!”
Dave poured himself another cup of brandied tea and swallowed
it down. “Till death do us part, my dear. Don’t complain,” he
replied. “Anyway you need to be whipped to prepare you for the pain of
childbirth.”
“That’s what he keeps saying,” Annette confided to Chip. The
little blonde was shaking quite visibly now. Chip reached out and
steadied her teacup for her. “Thanks,” she said. She tilted it while
Chip held it and sipped from it.
“Get up! Both of you,” Dave said with a menacing snarl.
Annette jumped up. She nearly spilled the tea but Chip managed to
steady the cup and put it down on the table.
“Such a lovely white ass,” Dave said, walking behind his wife.
“How many weeks has it been since I’ve given it a good licking?”
“Since you went away, dear,” Annette said. She stood like a
small little bunny before him, facing Chip, with her shoulders hunched
and her face looking frightened. Dave lifted up the back of her frill
on her teddy, though he need not have, to admire her fanny. Her cheeks
bulged out at him, white and shaking a little, threaded by the thong
that was tied off at her waist with a big pink satin bow.
“Turn around,” Dave said to his wife. Then he looked at Chip.
He nodded. “Come,” he said. Chip walked over to Annette and the two
men stared down at her. “Undo her ties and free her breasts. Suck on
them. I want to put clamps on them.”
“Daaaave!” Annette cried.
“Behave yourself,” Dave replied.
“But those clamps HURT!” Annette squealed. Chip undid her
ties. He worked gently, as if he were undoing the threads that bound up
jewels. Suddenly first one, than the other of Annette’s breasts popped
from her teddy. Delicately as Lancelot with his Guinivere, Chip bent
and sucked at the tips of her teats. First he wet just the tip with his
tongue. It felt rough to Annette and she shivered right down to her
tailbone. Her husband stood behind her, admiring her precocious
bottom. Then Chip swirled his tongue around each of Annette’s nipples
and finally, at her husband’s urging, after he’d sucked with ever more
pressure on them, he bit them.
“Oh!” Annette yelped. First one, then the other of her tensely
erect nipples was bitten and stretched. When Chip let go, Dave was
ready with the clamps. For a moment, her breasts wet at their tips with
Chip’s saliva, Annette watched unmolested as Dave sprang open the clamps
and then slowly fitted them to each of her teats. Then, slowly
releasing the jaws, he closed them over her sensitive tips.
“Oh! Ouch!” Annette squealed. Dave laughed. He tugged at the
clamps to make sure they were on. Annette, recovering herself a little,
though there were tears in her eyes now, watched as her husband, and
then Chip, simply curious, drew upon her breasts with their fingers by
pulling on the tit-seizing clamps.
“Tit torture,” Dave said. “The easiest of the tortures she’ll
face tonight, I assure you.” Annette looked meekly down at her bosoms,
then at both men. A strand of hair had slipped from her chignon and
trailed down over one of her eyes. Chip reached up and gently brushed
it aside. At the same time, quite absent-mindedly, he reached for his
groin. He squeezed his own dick. Dave, noticing, reached over and
pulled down the front of his swimsuit for him.
“Get it off,” Dave said to Chip. “Tea time is over. You’ve
got serious work ahead of you.”
“Thank God!” Chip crowed. He thrust the swim-thong down his
legs and happily tore it from his ankles. He chucked it across the room
and hoped he’d never see it again.
“Not so fast,” Dave said. He drew his wife’s hands behind her
back and locked the cuff that had been dangling from her right wrist to
her other arm. “You were pretty handy with your tongue. Let’s see you
use it on her pussy. She needs to be aroused first.”
Untying the big satin bow at the back of his wife’s waist, Dave
drew the thong between her ass crack and her pussy lips down until it
popped free of her snug labia lips. Chip knelt, eager for any action
with such a luscious babe. As he nudged Annette’s dangling crotch thong
aside he noticed it was plenty moist. But he dove into her anyway,
using his tongue, reaching up and seizing her hips and drawing them
forward. Annette let out a new squeal as she felt her cove
invaded by Chip’s exploring tongue. Despite being a wife she was very
tight. She was only 20 and her cunt squeezed on his tongue as he
stabbed it into her core. Chip tasted honey. He pushed deeper.
Annette, balanced precariously within the gripping of his palms on her
hips, moaned and let herself sink onto his tongue. But her snatch kept
anxiously trying to close on him, and deeper within she squeezed herself
on his tongue in an effort to force him out. Chip was only inspired to
greater effort by such girlish misgivings.
“Ooooh! Oh! No! Oh, yes! No! Ohhhhh!” Annette squealed and
moaned and pleaded all at once. Chip, painfully desperate to get his
cock inside her, nonetheless used just his tongue, as Dave had
commanded. Dave, meanwhile, passed the whip he possessed back and forth
over the squeezing frightened cheeks of Annette’s ass. They were just
little swishes, letting her know what was ahead for her. He held her as
he swished the whip lightly across her behind. It left no marks on her
lily-white bottom. But Annette, trembling and holding her cheeks in as
best she could, even as she was opened between her legs by Chip, knew
many marks would be imprinted on little round behind before morning, and
not just by the big bullwhip. There was an endless supply of
flagellation devices in their basement. Her husband was fascinated by
the marks all of them made. And he was fresh, just back from his trip
abroad, to Saudi Arabia, where he’d had neither booze nor women.
“I-I hate to break up such a cool scene,” Chip said finally,
lifting his face from the snatch of a swooning Annette. “But is there a
restroom down here? I have to pee something awful.”
Annette, her eyes glazed, placed her hand on his tousled locks
and absently mussed his hair. She’d been drawing him closer to her as
he delved deeper and deeper, pulling on the hair on his head, his ears,
anything handy, even catching at his tongue when he pulled back for air.
“Yesss,” she said. “Let me see you pee. I want to see your
big penis pee.” Dave slapped her bottom lightly. Chip rose up, his
penis rising with him.
“Get a cup,” Dave said to Annette. “We pee into cups down
here,” he said to Chip. Annette, a little dazed, walking funny,
wandered over to a table where she’d gotten the hot oil. She opened a
drawer and took out two cups. She came back to the men, her breasts
jutting temptingly from her teddy, clamped off at the nipples to keep
her modest. Between her legs her teddy was untied but the thong and the
part that covered her pubis dangled down, showing her pussy only in
glimpses, except that even when it was covered the fabric was still
see-through.
“Okay, boys. Pee!” Annette, a little recovered now from her
ordeal on Chip’s tongue, commanded. Both men shoved their penises at
her. She carefully placed a cup under each. “No peeing on me, guys.
Seriously,” she said. “I don’t want to have to go take a shower.
Especially since someone will probably blame me for the whole thing and
give me more stripes for it,” she said. She cast a rueful glance at her
husband.
“Last time me and some guy pissed all over her,” Dave chuckled.
Chip could barely hold back his sperm, thanks to all the
alluring conversation, as he pointed his dick into the cup Annette
held. With some effort he managed just to pee without shooting his load
into her cup too. It was a lucky thing. He filled the cup right to the
brim and a cumshot would have made a mess of pee and wasted cum on the
floor.
When both men had relieved themselves Annette took the cups
away.
“Try not to drip on the floor, guys,” she reminded them. Dave
and Chip cast rather awkward glances at each other. Annette had waited
a moment to catch any drips but, nonetheless, Chip felt a drip and he
saw Dave drip too, after the cups were gone.
“No matter how you shake and dance, the last two drops fall in
your pants,” Chip grinned.
“Even if you’re not wearing any,” Dave replied, gazing at
Chip’s penis.
“Or stupid ones,” Chip replied, gazing at Dave’s pants with
their zipperless fly.
“Zorro wore these pants,” Dave answered. “They had no zipper
at all until he got into a swordfight.”
“Comparing penises, boys?” Annette asked. She sashayed back to
them, having stashed the full urine cups in a corner. “I think Chip’s a
tad bigger, Dave, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Dave replied.
Annette lovingly clasped each male’s penis. Her hands were
small and feminine and she had trouble gripping such big shafts, but she
did her best, stroking them a little as she got her hands around them.
“God I have to cum!” Chip confided, generally to Annette but
with Dave listening in.
“So does he, Chip,” Annette said of her husband. “But you must
learn control.”
“I AM controlling myself!” Chip cried. “Sheesh!”
“Could I stand here and rub you for 20 minutes? I’d love to.
You’re so big and hard!” Annette said.
“No, and not for 20 seconds either,” Chip said. He attempted
to draw back from her hand but her loving caress gripped him quite
suddenly, big as he was, and held him.
“I know you need to shoot, Chip,” Annette said sweetly. “But I
have plans for such a big penis as yours. Even if it costs me my
bottom.” She cast a quick glance at her husband. “As I see it, if I
squirt whipped cream all over your dick, then you can maybe get away
with cumming without me noticing, while my husband has his way with me.
What do you think of that?” she asked Chip.
“Just the thought of you doing that to me almost makes me
spurt,” Chip answered honestly.
“Then come, both of you,” Annette smiled. “You have such rude
big penises. Maybe a little whipped cream will make them a bit more
presentable. After all, Ginger may want to come over and play with us.”
“What?” Dave cried, even as Annette led both men to the table
where the hot oil was kept. She pulled them both by their penises.
“You told the neighbor girl about our sex life?”
“She visits me, dear, and she kept wondering why I had such
trouble sitting down on certain days. You’re the one who whipped me.
How can I keep such a thing a secret when I can’t sit down in my own
home?” Annette stopped both men in front of the table. Then, bending
down and showing them her bottom, she reached into a small refrigerator
next to the table. She took out a can of Redi-Wip. She shook it,
smiling and eyeing the penises the men presented to her.
SQUIIIIRT! Chip felt a sudden coldness as Annette squirted a
trail of cream onto his dick. She began at the head, where his pee hole
was, perhaps to stop any dripping, and continued back to where the hair
of his groin obscured the root of his penis. Chip had to grind his
teeth to avoid coming within such a chilly, yet gently encompassing bath
of cream. When his dick had been coated Annette turned to her husband.
Chip watched Dave grit his own teeth as the lovely little blonde belle
lathered him up. When she was done she replaced the cream, just as if
she’d been at any party, using the cream for any ordinary purpose.
Annette wiped the stray bit of cream on her hands away by
licking them clean with her tongue. Just as she was finishing both men
heard a sound upstairs. They listened. Their penises quivered, all
white within their cloud-like wet coating. There was a key inserted
into the lock of the door above and then, creeping down as if afraid to
get caught, came small-sounding footsteps. Suddenly, peeking out from
the steps and simultaneously emitting a shriek, was the head of a
12-year-old girl. She wore pink bows in her hair, giving her pigtails.
The bows matched the color of the bows on Annette’s teddy.
After a moment, perhaps gathering her courage, the brave young
girl stepped farther down the steps. She was revealed to be wearing
nothing at all, saving her tennis shoes and her rolled-down pink socks.
Yet she held an umbrella in her hand.
“It was raining outside,” the girl confessed.
“You mean you came over here in the nude?” Dave bellowed.
“Well I didn’t want to get my clothes wet,” the girl replied.
“Anyways, Mr. Dobson, your wife said you have sex down here naked, so I
figured....”
“Good God!” Dave said. He seemed to tremble, as if visions of
police sirens were already wailing inside his head. Chip, on the other
hand, being only 21, and just out of the Army, felt more like a kid, and
the 12-year-old had perfect budding breasts just like his kid sister’s
friends all had when he joined up with the military. Now that he was
back home they all wanted to date him. They were 16 instead of 12, and
their promising breasts had blossomed into tits almost as big and lovely
as Annette’s.
Ginger saw Chip looking at her breasts. “I still have some
growing to do,” she admitted. She glanced down at her tits. They were
pointy but had a swelling fullness to them, nonetheless. They stuck up
very pertly, as if raising themselves to get some coach’s attention.
Chip remembered he’d volunteered to coach at Ginger’s junior high.
Perhaps she was growing her breasts just for him.
“Why do you have clamps on your breasts, Annette?” Ginger asked
her older friend meekly.
“Well, because, my husband insisted,” Annette answered.
Looking at her husband, she implored, “My nipples are really starting to
hurt.” Suavely he reached out and drew the clips off her, one by one.
“They hurt most when the come off, and the blood rushes back
in,” he said, with a sly glance at Ginger. Annette howled. She clasped
her breasts but, as soon as the clips had been removed, Chip lunged at
her teats and sucked them solicitously. He loved her big bosoms and he
loved even more any chance that presented itself to suck them. As
Ginger watched, twirling her umbrella, Dave took Annette’s other
breast. The men suckled at Annette’s teats like hungry newborns.
Ginger placed a hand on first one of her nipples, then the other. She
teased the stiff teats, excited. Then she placed her hand on her belly
and, after dipping a finger absently in her navel, she dropped her hand
between her legs and massaged her small slit.
“We’re corrupting her,” Dave said aloud to his wife when he
finally took his mouth from her hurting nipple. He looked at Ginger.
Quietly, still standing on the basement steps, holding her dripping
umbrella over her head, she fingered her spot and her slit.
“I’m okay,” Ginger said. “Can I lick you clean?” She smiled.
Dave looked down at himself.
“Um, yeah, I guess,” Dave answered. Then muttered: “I’ll pay
in Hell for this.”
Ginger danced over to Dave. Then she neatly set down her
umbrella next to him. Finally, she dropped her to her knees. Annette,
taking a cue from the precocious young girl, dropped to her knees in
front of Chip.
“I thought the cream was to keep us--” Chip protested. But as
he felt Annette’s petal-soft mouth close over his cockhead he lost the
desire to speak the word “modest.” A warm licking sensation came to his
purplish knob. He urged himself forward into Annette’s mouth.
“I’ll have to spank you for this,” Dave warned Ginger.
“I don’t mind,” the girl replied. She licked at his big
sausage-like cock as if it were a new lollipop.
“I--” Chip began. He wanted to pull Annette off himself, to
preserve his seed for his cunny. But as she continued to clean him he
instead forced himself more eagerly into her face. He stabbed at her
cheeks and even poked at her eyes and, when she drew him within her
mouth, he tried for the back of her throat. Dave seemed to suffer from
the same perplexity, not sure whether to encourage Ginger’s efforts or
resist them.
“You’re getting a faceful,” Dave said at last. The child’s
hands clasped his manhood and Ginger looked up at him wide-eyed.
Suddenly he spurted onto her face and she shrieked. She tried to stop
him, putting a finger over his pee slit. But he was too powerful for
her and the big white jets of sperm spurted from him like a geyser.
Chip, meanwhile, was already inside Annette’s mouth at this moment.
Seeing Dave cum, he could no longer control himself. He shot lustily
into the mouth of Dave’s wife. He tried to stab himself down her throat
and Annette, choking, had to fight to keep him from going to deep. As
he watched the lovely Ginger sprayed all over her face with Dave’s seed,
he gave Dave’s wife a present of his own lusty sperm. Both girls
shrieked (Annette gagging a little as she shrieked.) At last both men
were done and they pulled back. The females, still on their knees,
gazed first at their white-soaked hands and fingers and then at each
other.
“Lick her clean,” Dave said to his wife. “I don’t want my
sperm wasted.”
Annette stood. She took Ginger’s hand. Instictively Ginger
stood up when she saw Annette stand. Annette took Ginger, the girl’s
face coated with semen, over to the pile of pillows. Gently she laid
the pig-tailed girl down in the pillows and then she dropped down beside
her. Fingering the young girl’s developing teats and stiff nipples,
Annette began licking Dave’s sperm off her face. Ginger was compliant.
When she got a chance she extended her own tongue and licked Chip’s
sperm off Annette’s face.
“Now we must both be punished for making them cum,” Annette
said to Ginger when they were finished. She rose and pulled Ginger up
with her. The girl was more hesitant now. She led Ginger over to where
Chip and Dave sat on a wooden bench. The men were relaxing, drinking
beers.
“Don’t get any splinters in your asses,” Annette said.
“I lacquered this bench yesterday,” Dave replied. Then he put
down his beer and got up. He took Ginger’s hand. He drew her close and
kissed her face. She clung to him as he kissed her. Her bottom
wiggled. Annette stood behind her. She caressed the girl’s fanny.
Then, quite unceremoniously, Dave put Ginger over his knee. He raised
his big calloused palm and brought it smartly down on her childish
bottom.
“Oh, noooo!” Ginger cried out. But she only kicked her legs
and didn’t fight too hard to get up. Chip flinched, watching her get
spanked. He knew Dave had big hands and he was spanking her quite hard
and deliberately. Yet the girl, despite breaking instantly into tears,
did not try to bite at Dave or scratch him, as some other girl her age
almost certainly might have done. Perhaps it was the already swelling
penis between Dave’s legs that rose as he spanked her and bumped against
her soft belly. Something kept her from fighting with all her
strength. Annette, proud of the girl, though she knew her bottom was
next and would suffer worse, knelt down beside her and kissed her. Dave
kept on spanking her. Annette kissed her nose and her cheeks and her
gasping mouth. Chip, unable to restrain himself, and finding himself
newly erect, shifted himself on the bench and then got off of it and
knelt before the girl, low and close to her mouth. He stuck his rising
penis into her mouth like a pacifier. Annette leaned back to let him
in. She scolded him but didn’t stop him. Ginger looked like a baby
caught by surprise. Her cheeks swelled over his intruding dick and her
eyes popped open wide. Then, accomodating herself to it somehow,
despite the hand that kept slapping her bottom, she began to suck.
Chip, who thought he’d be out of commission for at least 20
minutes, found himself spurting in no time into the pigtailed girl’s
mouth. He was quite unable to resist the luring sucking of her childish
lips. He let himself relax and he enjoyed the full measure of her
suckling, not fighting it, simply accepting his discharge and hoping,
somehow, he’d find the strength to rise yet again afterward. Annette,
impressed, caressed his bare ass and toyed with the butt plug in his
anus. She twisted it about, and when Chip came she pulled it out of his
clenching buttocks (as soon as his steel buns relaxed a little).
“Very good, Chip,” she teased. “I’m glad you’re not afraid of
a little girl’s mouth.”
“No,” Chip grunted.
“Is she still a virgin?” Dave asked, lifting his hand to spank
the girl yet again.”
“Of course, dear,” Annette grinned.
“Well, I’m hard,” Dave replied.
“Only Chip may, if anyone does,” Annette said.
“Damn. I thought you’d say that,” Dave answered, and he
brought his hand down very hard on poor Ginger’s bottom. The girl,
stuffed full in her mouth with Chip, yelped and accidentally bit him.
Chip howled but kept himself inside her clenching mouth. He discharged
the last of his seed.
“God damn, what a pretty face she has,” he said, gazing down at
her puffy childish cheeks. They swelled even more fully as he flooded
her mouth with his seed. Ginger choked on the discharge. He drew
himself out, still spurting a little, to give her air. Some of his cum
shot up and hit her on the tip of her nose. Immediately Annette took
his place. She licked at the girl’s face and within her mouth. Dave
began to spank her more lightly. Chip looked at the girl’s bottom. It
was beet red. Her thin white legs kicked, her balled fists struggled,
but she let Annette lick in her mouth and even managed to return a few
kisses and licks.
“Whoa, this is amazing,” Chip said. He stroked his dick and
hoped it would rise again. Ginger’s bottom would be a fantastic place
to put himself if he got hard again, he speculated, and it would
preserve her virginity. Eagerly he stroked himself more quickly. He
wasn’t sure he could get himself in her, but if he did he knew her very
warm little bottom would be the best place he’d ever been.
The poor child, still an innocent when she’d first set foot
into the basement half an hour before, at most a graduate of games of
Post Office, now lay heaving over Dave’s knee. Her small upturned
bottom bore the marks of his big brutal hand. Sperm dribbled from her
lips where Chip, quite ingraciously, had chosen to discharge himself
into her little mouth. Her childish lips, too young for lipstick, now
bore a creamy white moustache. Dave settled his hand on Ginger’s
bottom. She shrank from it, fearing another blow. Instead he rubbed
her anxious bottom a little, as if polishing it.
“Ooooh, don’t-t-t!” Ginger pleaded. Even the lightest touch
sent spasms of pain through her now. She shivered as Dave lifted his
hand. For a moment he contemplated striking her again, to show her he
ruled here, in this basement of his castle-home. No doubt if she’d been
older he would have hit her again. But in deference to her tender
years, he settled his hand on her thighs. Her reprieve did not last
long. In substitution for striking her he instead began prying between
her legs into her virgin cunt.
“Don’t tear her hymen!” Annette warned her husband.
“I just want to feel it, that’s all,” Dave replied. “I’ve
never actually felt a hymen. I mean, you know, in junior high I felt
some with the head of my cock, breaking through them. But I never
actually felt one up with my finger.”
“Ooooh! Please!” Ginger spluttered. Dave dug deeper into her
clenching core and seemed to find what he sought.
“Yes,” he breathed aloud in a husky voice. “There it is.
Hmmmm, would you like to be devirginated, Ginger?”
“Oh, noooo, not till I’m married!” Ginger sighed. Her breasts
hung naked underneath her and a tremulous sigh sent them shivering like
young fruit on a tree in the winds of early March. April dew sprinkled
itself on the tips of Dave’s fingers.
“Her bottom must be attended to,” Annette said. Perhaps she
spoke up to save the girl. A man with an erection couldn’t be trusted
with a 12-year-old over his knee. Ginger, after first squeezing her
thighs together, and making much ado about her hymen, now scissored them
wide apart. Chip remembered being given swimming lessons with toddler
girls when he was six. Afraid of the pool, they would lie prone on
towels beside it and practise their strokes. The coach would watch,
correct. Now Ginger, a novitiate at love, seemed to emulate the same
approach. She straightened her legs, let her toes sink to the floor.
She arched her bottom a little. She drew her hands back against Dave’s
thigh.
“Ooooh. No!” Ginger whimpered. Yet, clutching at Dave’s big
thigh, she stuck up her bottom at him. With her toes pressed against
the floor for purchase, her sudden movement had the effect of forcing
his exploring fingers deeper into her.
“Careful, girl!” Dave gasped. He seemed suddenly afraid. “I
think I might have stretched her hymen a little,” he confessed to his
wife.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Ginger cried. They were gaspy cries,
tentative, searching. Like a child pressed up against some new exotic
boundary she bucked her hips again and again, shoving her apple-round
ass into the air and making Dave’s fingers press hard against her
hymen. Gallantly he kept his fingers stiff within her cunt and did not
jab at her but rather let her bang herself against him. He was
intrigued. Chip was intrigued. Annette tutted but did not interfere.
The girl had paid the price, letting her bottom be smacked beet-red.
Let her play now, test her limits. The tissue membrane of her hymen
suffered under the intrusive test, yet held; Ginger was playing still,
not quite able to break it. She dared, Dave held his finger tight
within her letting her. He felt her honeyed juices lubricate his
digits. He rubbed his stiff erection on her flat soft child’s belly and
longed to make her bear a baby for him. His pre-cum stained her satin
skin.
“Enough!” Annette said suddenly. “Bad girl!” She gave Ginger a
slap upon her tushy.
“Ouch!” Ginger yelped.
“Get up, sweetie, it’s your bedtime,” Annette scolded. She
drew the girl off her husband’s lap. Ginger balled her hands into fists
and beat lightly upon Annette’s breast. She did not want to leave her
male tormenter. Dave sat back, sighed. His cock, freed from the weight
of her belly, rose up stiffly from between his thighs and stood like an
obscene flagpole.
At a nod from Annette Chip strode forward and received the
girl. Ginger’s fisticuffs receeded as she felt herself dropped into
Chip’s muscled arms. Instead of Ginger’s soft loving breasts his
steel-hard chest pressed against her. She seemed to prefer it.
“Up we go,” Chip announced. He caught Ginger’s legs up and
held her aloft like a captured princess. Then, his own cock dangling
between his legs most enticingly, if momentarily spent, yet still
tumescent, he marched to the stairs. He mounted them with Ginger
clasping to his neck, her bare arms looped about it, her face pressed to
his shoulder and her mouth emitting little sighs. Her legs kicked a
little, then hung quiet. Her bottom bulbed beneath her, all red and
rosy. Between her thighs she was tight and virginal as ever but wet,
honey-wet, and her trembling breaths invited what she could not bring
her mouth to ask for.
Annette followed. She was oddly dressed for a chaperone, but
she feared for little Ginger’s hymen, even in the arms of a man who was
momentarily unfit for duty. She walked primly with her teddy undone
between her legs, hanging down and fluttering behind her like some
abbreviated wedding gown train. Annette’s bosoms bounced on her chest
like big round gourds ready to be sliced and bitten into.
Thanksgiving-gourds, each a feast in itself. Her nipples, despite the
earlier pain of the clamps, stuck up nude and excited, stems of
pleasure. She knew her husband was planning to pierce them soon and
each time they played she wondered if tonight would be the night they
were forever altered. At the same time, with her bottom wobbling full
and moony behind her, brazen in its nudity, she knew she was only
minutes away from a strapping. Going upstairs wouldn’t be an escape for
her, only a respite. She cast a sidelong glance back at her husband
when she heard him clear his throat and, sure enough, he was looking
directly at her.
“You’ll pay for involving such a young girl in our games,” he
said to her in a hard, uncompromising voice. She knew he hated
pedophiles and vowed to kill them every time he saw one on T.V.
“Yes, dear, I know,” Annette said sheepishly. “But don’t tell
me you didn’t enjoy giving her a spanking.”
“I was trying to discipline her for being such a little tart!”
he said.
“Oh, pardon me. I guess I didn’t see the hard-on you got doing
it. Try not to jerk off while I’m upstairs, dear.”
“Fuck you,” Dave growled.
“Yes, please do. I’d hate to cum back downstairs and find
you’ve spilled yourself on the floor.” Annette replied. Then, giving
him a glare of her own, she tossed her half-undone chignon and proceeded
up the steps. Each time she lifted a foot her assets gave another
jiggly display. Her husband was a passionate man and she hoped he kept
his passion in his penis. Once he’d struck her face, bruising her. She
hadn’t liked that. At the top of the steps, to reassure him of her
love, she turned around and blew him a kiss.
Dave sat disconsolately on the bench. He felt like following
his wife, and Chip, and yet he had somehow been left behind, as if he
wasn’t needed, wasn’t wanted. He heard the door to the basement close
yet noted that his wife didn’t lock it. He could join them if he
wished. Perhaps she hoped he’d stumble onto them all making love,
without his permission. That was adultery, wasn’t it? He could shoot
Chip then, dispose of the young interloper once and for all. But what
about Ginger? She complicated things. A man could always shoot another
man for loving his wife, especially in his own bed, and keep his wife
quiet about how the tryst began. But Ginger would tattle and tell all:
“He paddled me and he finger-fucked my hymen,” she’d prattle to her
friends at school.
Dave got up with disgust. Chip was safe with Ginger present.
He couldn’t shoot both of them. 12-year-old girls didn’t seduce a man’s
wife, even if they did visit in the nude. He spit on the floor and
cared not that Annette would scold him for it when she saw his lugey.
He felt compromised. He should be the ruler of his house, even with
another man in it; but with Ginger in it, her bottom red and his own
hand sore from paddling her, he had no options. He had to tolerate Chip
and he had to beg her not to tell. Forever after when he saw her on the
sidewalk and she whispered to her friends he’d worry. And she’d give
him a little smirking smile. He knew that smile of hers. She’d been
giving it to him ever since she moved next door at the age of eight.
He’d be out back chopping wood, doing honest Man’s work, minding his own
business, and little Ginger would come visiting. Of course it was all
so Pure, so highminded, little Ginger visiting his wife, asking for
sugar for her tea party. But somehow, despite the sugar being in the
kitchen, little Ginger would wind up in the back yard. And she’d insist
on climbing up in the wood pile so that Dave, in bringing down the axe,
bending over, would get a glimpse of her white-pantied bottom or her
puss as she stood atop the logs.
“Mr. Dobson, why do you have wood?” Ginger would ask him,
interrupting his work, her finger perched within her open rosebud lips.
“Winter’s coming,” he’d grunt in reply.
“Oh, not THAT kind of wood, Mr. Dobson. The other kind, the
kind Beavis and Butthead have. Why do you have THAT kind of wood?”
Ginger would ask. And her voice would be high and childlike and
innocent, yet when he looked up and met her eyes she’d smirk at him.
“All men have wood,” he’d grunt. And of course, being a child,
like any two-year-old, she was entitled to ask follow-ups.
“But WHY, Mr. Dobson? I don’t have any wood between my legs.
I sit down when I pee. But I hear boys stand up when they do it, and
they pee all over the seat. Sometimes my big brother pees on the seat
and then I have to wipe it before I can sit down on it.”
“I hear your mother calling,” Dave would answer. And, leaping
down, believing him, feeling a little guilty perhaps, Ginger would run
home. But after awhile that trick didn’t work anymore, and Ginger had
learned a trick of her own. She’d get atop the wood pile and then bend
over to inspect the clover that wedged itself between the pile and the
backyard fence.
“I’m sure there’s a four-leaf clover down there SOMEWHERE!”
she’d declare. Her dress, too short, would lift right up and show all
her bottom, and her panties were smaller, too small, wedging deep into
her little crack and showing the lovely swell of her seat-cheeks where
they bulged out, whiter even than her panties. Her legs were always
deep brown from swimming. She’d swim in her pool from early spring
until late autumn, when the cold finally drove her from the water. Her
mother called her the ‘pool-nymph,’ but to Dave she was a wood-nymph,
standing high upon the logs and bending down to inspect the budding
clover. “I feel lucky today. Don’t you feel lucky, Mr. Dobson?” Ginger
would ask innocently. And the most embarrassing thing about it for him,
staring at her small uncovered ass, was that he KNEW she knew she wasn’t
asking him about the clover.
One day he told her a bee had landed on her bottom. He was
going to reach out and pinch her naughty little ass, but she was too
quick, leaping from the wood pile and darting back inside his house.
Later when she returned he told her he’d taken up bee-keeping, and she
was too sweet for visiting him in his back yard, that the bees would
sting her, though they left him alone. She believed it for awhile. But
one day he found her out back with a whole troop of little girls. They
were wearing empty gunny sacks over their heads. Being small girls,
still prepubescent, the sacks covered them down to their waists.
Apparently the girls thought this sufficient, for they were boldly
marching about the yard, spraying bug spray whenever they thought they
saw a bee. Dave had to laugh at the sight of the little girls prancing
and dancing about, their short skirts flapping, their fannies as
vulnerable as ever, but feeling quite safe, and being quite safe, for he
did not keep bees in his back yard. At last, puffing with proud gasps,
the girls marched into his house.
“All the bees have been vam-ooosed, Mr. Dobson!” Ginger told
him as he sat drinking a beer at his kitchen table. She still wore
burlap over her head, despite being inside his house.
Dave glanced out the backyard window. “I don’t see any dead
bees on my lawn,” he mused.
“We didn’t want to kill them!” Ginger said. “We just scared
them. But they won’t come back! They were scared of us and all our bug
spray.”
Dave nodded, drank another draught of beer.
“Now you have to pay us, Mr. Dobson!” Ginger told him. She
extended her little palm and held it before him, expectantly. Finally,
when he made it quite clear he was just going to enjoy his beer, despite
all her valiant efforts on his behalf, she added: “but you can let us
sip some of your beer if you don’t have any money.”
“Scram! Vamoose your SELF!” he’d yelled at her. He wished he
could yell that now, he mused, uncapping a new beer. Blue Boar Pale
Ale. He ought to take her up on her offer now, and send her home so
drunk she didn’t remember anything.
“She deserved that spanking,” Dave said aloud to himself. And
she had. But it wouldn’t help any. ‘Yes, your honor, I paddled her
because she used to stand on top of my wood pile and look at my
clover.’ That would be his winning argument. He’d rest his case with
that.
Ginger, meanwhile, lay in Dave’s bedroom on his bed. She was
flopped on her tummy. Her face was buried in the big pillow Dave
sometimes put under his wife’s belly to arch up her hips for him so he
could sink more deeply into her glorious backside. Ginger coughed.
Little mewing sounds escaped her throat as Annette, solicitious of her
bottom, uncorked a stoppered bottle and soothed oil over her seat. It
was a chilly oil. It made Ginger’s flaming bottom hurt a little less.
“Mmmm, that was quite a spanking my husband gave you, wasn’t
it?” Annette asked the girl.
“Yeth it hurt,” Ginger breathed. Despite the sensitivity of
her seat she arched it up a little. Lying on her other side, opposite
Annette, Dave sported a new erection. It bumped sideways against the
small of her back, like some overgrown cucumber, when Ginger drew in her
knees and pushed her ass up. Had she known it was there, hovering above
her little waist? Now she did, if she hadn’t before. She sighed and
seemed to accept its presence. She wiggled her bottom a little and made
Chip’s penis saw across her delving waist.
Annette smiled at Chip. He lay like a nude Adonis across from
her. Precum oozed from the tip of his excited penis and Ginger shrieked
when she felt it drip onto the small of her back. Yet, after shrinking
down a little, she lofted her bottom higher. She shoved Chip’s penis up
with her and made it angle away from him like some cockeyed cock.
Chip looked at Annette. He had already cum several times this
evening. He had enough for one more emission, he guessed. Without
speaking, his eyes asked if Annette understood this. She smiled, a
little sheepishly? She nodded. She gave permission. He still looked
to her first. She was the reason he had come tonight, not some spoilt
girl from next door who didn’t know what she wanted, and probably
wouldn’t appreciate it when she got it.
Annette lifted her oil-drenched palm from Ginger’s bottom. She
stroked Chip’s erection lightly with her fingers, greasing it, leaving
streaks of oil wherever her fingers smoothed across the big veined
pestle of flesh. Ginger, sensing something had been taken away from
her, lofted her bottom a little higher. She bumped against Chip’s penis
again, making it angle so far to one side that he had to readjust his
hips. He rolled back a little onto his seat. His penis stuck into the
air, waved about, a flagpole without a flag. Annette followed the
movement of Chip’s cock and kept stroking it. She leaned across
Ginger’s small lovely bottom, pressed the girl’s seat back down a little
with her free hand. She kissed the head of Chip’s cock. Ginger mewled
with disappointment. She was no longer the center of attention. She
wanted to be.
With an impetuous jolt Ginger shoved her soft little ass
upward. Her seat bumped Annette with such force that it knocked
Annette’s mouth off the tip of Chip’s cock, where she’d begun to suck at
his pee hole.
Annette tossed her head. Her chignon was almost completely
undone now and her blonde hair kept getting in her eyes.
“Bad girl!” Annette scolded. She slapped Ginger’s bottom, but
only lightly. There was a remedy for a bumptious girl like Ginger.
Ginger squeaked at the slap but her bottom barely retreated
from its arched-up position. Instead she waved the bulbous seat
around. It was full and glossy and incredibly satiny soft and taut, the
skin like stretched rubber across the surface of a ball. Down the
middle of her seat it was split, a lovely crack offering twin openings.
Chip stared at the gyrating butterball of flesh. How sweetly
it was warmed, the white skin slapped to a hue of tomato red. While her
bottom was (formerly) white, flecks of white still showing here and
there where Dave’s hand had failed to strike, her legs were golden.
Hours of playing in her backyard pool had tanned them to twin sticks of
cinnamon. Her back too, so thin and small, with her ribs sticking out
and showing whenever she drew in a tremulous breath, was
cinnamon-colored too, and above that, her arms, tense and drawn close to
her body, her hands by her face, were suntanned. Yet across the
mid-point of her back, there was a single white line. She wore her bra
there, lying by her pool, but tonight her bra was forgotten at home, and
her small lovely breasts were crushed beneath her as she stuck up her
bottom at him.
It was an invitation Chip couldn’t refuse. With a final glance
at Annette, letting her know he wouldn’t be able to service her this
night, he stuck his knee between Ginger’s long legs. They kicked at
him. He managed, nonetheless, to get the rest of himself between her,
like a man moving heavy equipment to where it was needed to do the work
it had been assigned. His other leg joined the first. The presence of
his legs kept Ginger from closing hers. His balls and cock hung
suspended over her bottom.
“Get them apart,” he snarled. He shoved at the girl’s thighs.
He wasn’t happy at losing his chance to fuck Annette. Yet, with such a
virginal bottom wiggling under him, offering, inviting, he felt
compelled to fuck her.
Ginger’s lovely little seat shrank from him as she felt him
position himself to mount her. But she had noplace to go now, this
teasing recalcitrant girl. He was towering over her, his cock huge and
pointing right at her, his balls slung up under his crotch, full with
the last of his cum and ready to go.
Chip grabbed Ginger’s extremely small waist and yanked her down
a bit, closer to his waiting loins. In the same motion he pulled her
bottom back up high into the air again, lodging the head of his cock
right in her buttcrack.
“Yeek! No!” Ginger cried. And her voice was quite serious.
She’d have called 911 in that moment. Chip widened the spread of his
knees, kneeling upon the bed, and his knees in turn forced her long legs
wider apart. Barbie was about to get a present from Ken.
“Wait,” Annette said. She touched twin fingers to Chip’s
cock. She held him back. She tossed her golden-blonde hair and slipped
from the bed. Chip watched her walk to a nightstand beside the bed.
Her luscious mature bottom rolled, invited. Her crack was deeper, her
cheeks fuller. How he longed to plunge himself into her knowing seat,
to ride such a luscious mare! She would appreciate his every stroke,
his every thrusting movement. Yet instead, somehow, he’d become tasked
with deflowering this anxious maiden. She would buck and moan and
complain, and afterward frown at him ruefully. She would not
appreciate, except in some disguised girlish way, sticking her tongue
out at him, showing him her lollipop tongue in a gesture of childish
defiance. ‘You bested me,’ her tongue would say, sticking out at him,
‘I teased you and resisted you but you bested me. Now pray I don’t tell
my daddy.’
Annette returned with a small dog’s collar. She regained the
bed and, kneeling upon it, bent over Ginger’s face. With expert hands
she collared Ginger’s neck. The girl, startled, twisted her neck about,
puppy-like, but Annette was too sure and too quick for her, and the
collar was buckled securely around her.
Chip’s eyes darted to two straps laid down by Annette on the
bed as she remounted it. Beside them lay two sticks. All had been
brought from the nightstand. He wondered at them. What was their
purpose? Their presence excited him and he shafted his cock within the
soft open crack of Ginger’s bottom. The girl tried to yank her hips
away, shocked, but he moved his big sausage-like prick back and forth
between her squeezing seat-cheeks. He was not fucking her, he was not
inside her. He was simply shafting his cock along her furrow, yet she
resisted. The oil Annette had so carefully spread all about and within
Ginger’s seat now eased Chip’s passage. He felt as if he were buttering
his big cock, sliding it back and forth within Ginger’s oiled fanny.
“God this feels good,” Chip confessed. He looked at Annette.
She reached back and took one of the straps she’d deposited on the bed,
wrapped it around one of Ginger’s small wrists. She smiled. Ginger let
out a cry of alarm but, conveniently, kept her hands pressed close to
her face, unmoving. She was like a rabbit caught between headlights,
stone still, just her ass moving, in wiggling little
resistance-movements. The stirring and shifting and bouncing of her
seat only served to heighten Chip’s excitement. He sawed his cock
within the clenching halves of her tushy more eagerly. He was so big
that he split her bottom apart to its widest extent just by laying his
penis within her furrow. She could not hold him within her split seat,
instead she was opened by him, just the underside of his cock actually
pressing down within her. Yet it was enough for the two of them to each
be innervated by the other. He was as mesmerized by the moving ball of
flesh beneath his cock as she was by the big sausage-like thing pressed
down into the intimate furrow of her seat. And, through it all,
tingling up to her tailbone even as it sent shudders through him, they
both knew what lay ahead. A contact this intimate would not simply
abate. It must be completed. They must run their course together,
joust upon the bed, and both lose, and gain from it.
She would lose her hymen and be filled with his maleness, his
seed. He would lose his cum but gain a notch on his belt, and her blood
would anoint his cock.
With grim efficiency, knowing she would share none of this,
Annette closed a strap around Ginger’s remaining wrist. Then she picked
up the twin sticks and, attaching each at one end to Ginger’s collar,
she attached each at its other end to one of Ginger’s wrists. The
effect was to bind Ginger’s wrists with the sticks. They held her hands
close to her face, while keeping them away from her neck, lest she undo
the very collar that was the centerpiece. Once locked in to the collar,
the sticks were caught and held by it so that they could not move at
all. Not forward, or backward.
Ginger lifted her neck. At the back of her collar there was,
sewn into the collar, a tube. It was into this that the end of each
stick fitted. The twin ends of the sticks, fitted into the back of her
collar, felt like a yoke across the back of her neck. She was an animal
now, yoked and ready for the stud to inseminate. She let out a cry of
despair. Her childhood was about to end.
Chip raised himself slightly, drawing his cock from where it
had settled so pleasantly between Ginger’s seat. He repositioned
himself. He lifted her bottom up more, presented her cunt to his
loins. Then he stabbed his prick down within the folds of her pussy.
Despite the welling up of his seed, so urgent, so importuning,
so eager to rush forth even now, though his penis-tip was just splitting
the outer folds of her cunt, Chip hesitated. A moment of circumspection
washed over him. She was but 12, he was 21. He could spend the rest of
his life in prison in the Land of the Free for what he was about to do.
Yet what man could resist such a sweet ball of flesh, so perfectly
exposed and waiting? Ginger bumped against him, lodging him a little
deeper. Had he done that, or had she? Her sucking tightness enveloped
half his cockhead now. She was wet. He was oiled. His precum drooled,
for a moment he became startled, fearing his seed was erupting. But it
was just a drooling pre-emission, wetting the way, anointing the
passage.
Chip shoved himself deeper. Ginger cried out. He could feel
her hymen now, his cockhead splitting her, a big walnut on a stick
trapped within the clutching fig of her pussy.
Gazing down at his shaft, still nude, still free of her, only
his cockhead trapped within her, Chip once again considered his
options. He was an adult, an ex-serviceman. She was just a bored
child, looking for something to do in the rain. Had Roseanne been a
rerun? Had Gilligan’s Island failed to hold her interest? Had the
Nintendo game been in her brother’s bedroom, where she couldn’t play
with it?
“Aghggh!” Chip cried out. She was bumping her tissued hymen
against his pee-hole, stretching herself on his cockhead even as he held
himself back. Yet he knew, after he’d fucked her, she’d blame it all on
him. She’d hold him responsible and, if she wished, she’d hold him
accountable to the Law. Yet he was male, a stemming, excited male, and
she was being a very naughty girl and knew it and loved it and gave him
another inviting little bump with her hymen, he lodged just inside her,
she waiting so sweetly, yet so impatiently.
“Please, let me go!” Ginger piped up. Yet even as she spoke
she gave him another little bump. Her bottom was a ball that she used
to knock him in his loins. She was hitting him below the belt, and he
loved it.
He took command. She screamed, feeling him draw her up, his
hands clasped to her waist, holding her, lifting her even as he plunged
himself down through her hymen and into the depths of her cunt.
“Noooooo!” Ginger wailed. With grim vengeance he speared her.
His huge cock split her virgin tube and lunged down into the private
sanctuary of her womb.
“OOOOOOOH!” Ginger shouted. He knew she must feel like a stuck
pig, and like a pig prancing its way to market she’d now gotten more
than she bargained for. The hatchet had fallen. Her puss was virgin no
more, and she was feeling, for the first time, just how big and huge and
massive a male cock in her little 12-year-old body could be.
Annette sat patting and stroking Ginger’s hair. She had
chestnut-brown hair, streaked with gold from being out in the sun. It
was pulled tight into twin pigtails, tied with pink bows. Chip wanted
to reach forward and grab the collared, yoked girl by her pigtails and
use them as leashes to ride her across the bedroom. Instead, he used
her hips. He yanked her up by her waist even more, shoving her almost
into a pretzel shape, her back half lofted up while her front half
sloped down, her wrists caught by her collar and her legs kicking. If
her knees bumped her wrists she would be a pretzel, a human pretzel, and
her lovely upturned bottom would be the violated base of the pretzel.
Yes, violated. For just the thought of her little tormented body
beneath him, all scrunched up and offering, showing him her most
intimate parts and being impaled on him, sent Chip into a frenzy. With
hard, merciless strokes he began to shaft her. He was a Mongol. He was
the Devil himself. He would ride this little pony till she dropped with
weariness and then he would cast her aside and go fuck Annette. It was
the woman he wanted, yet somehow he’d been tricked into spending himself
in this little girl. Well, she would pay for that.
“No-oh-Boo! Hoo!” Annette broke into tears. Chip pounded her
with his desperate loins. He gave her no quarter, though she was
quartered. He drove his rock-solid cock deep into her precious soft
squeezingly-tight little cunny. Again and again he hammered her with
his hardness. He was a lightning bolt, streaking down explosively into
the earth. She received him. She had no choice. She began crying, yet
Annette simply patted her head. As the fucking continued Annette
plucked at Ginger’s pigtail’s. She unbound the girl’s hair. She was a
child no more. She was a woman.
“Unh! Unh! Unh! Ohhhhh!” Chip grunted out his pleasure and,
quite unexpectedly, cuming before he meant to, he gasped out a delicious
sigh of relief. He felt his testicles tighten. The death grip. The
wonderful full sensation that flooded a man and stiffened his cock, just
as he realized he’d passed his point of no return.
Chip savored the moment. He sighed out a great marvelous sigh,
tight within Ginger, so deliciously held by the depths of her small
child’s body. Then his seed rushed forth from his balls. It shot down
the enormous length of his cock. It was quick as rain in a sudden
mid-summer thunderstorm. He flooded her. He seeded her. He spilled
into the depths of her womb and prayed she’d taken a pill.
Ginger’s hair flowed down over her back, covering her collar,
Annette unbinding it from her pink bows. Her wailing quieted, ceased.
She received him like a shocked child. For a moment not a sound issued
from her and then, breaking into a series of moans, she banged her
bottom against his loins. In response Chip began shafting her again,
enjoying the hardness of his cock even as he spilled out the very
essence that kept it hard. In a minute he would be done, he would begin
to soften inside her, but that moment was not yet here and he burrowed
his still-hard strength within her. She clenched and clutched at him
with her virginal cunt. He noticed his penis had turned red with the
blood of her broken hymen. He leaned forward, he collapsed upon her.
She squeaked as the heavy weight of his body came crushing down upon
her. His breath was hot and he shoved his face down beside hers and
sought her tongue. Ginger twisted her head, offered her lips. Her
tongue extended to meet his. Together they thrashed upon the bed.
Annette rose. She moved to Chip’s hips and slapped his bottom
hard. Chip let out a cry and shafted Ginger even more deeply. Ginger
squawked at the new intrusion. He forced himself down even harder
within her.
And then, his seed gone, he began to soften. His hips
stilled. Ginger thrashed less violently beneath him. Her legs ceased
their aimless kicking. Yet their tongues stayed together, searching,
touching their tips, their lips kissing.
Slowly, after many minutes had gone by, Chip raised himself up
from Ginger. Her small body lay still on the bed. A tremble passed
through her and her face, twisted to one side, offered a lolling tongue.
“You did well, Chip,” Annette praised him. She was standing
beside the bed, still wearing her white teddy with its pink bows, her
crotch thong undone, hanging down. Her big full bosoms, round and milk
white, offered themselves. The triangles of fabric that had once been
slung up over her teats dangled hopelessly underneath her swelling
breasts, untied, forgotten. Chip, rising from the bed, seized Annette.
He sucked hard on one of her breasts, grabbing both. He was a child
again, needing milk. Yet between his legs he was no longer hard. He
was spent. Annette pushed him away. She had no use for him now.
“Another time,” she said. “Another time, Chip. We will play
again.” Then she touched his penis, stirred it with her fingertips.
Just in case. But he had no more to offer.
Suddenly Dave was there, standing in the bedroom door. He wore
his hood still, masking his face, and his long black boots that
stretched up to his knees, and his pants that sheathed his powerful
thighs but left his loins quite naked. He held a whip in his hand. His
cock was big and fine and ready.
Chip, surprised, stepped back from Dave’s wife.
“Did you fuck her?” Dave asked Chip. The young man didn’t know
to which female Dave referred. He looked blankly at Dave. Then,
finally, he murmured: “Ginger. I fucked Ginger.”
“Well, she is not my wife,” Dave replied. He gave Chip a grim
smile. Then he stepped forward and grabbed Annette by her lovely blonde
hair. “You have a date with a strip of leather,” he growled to her.
“No! Oh, no! Please, Dave!” Annette cried. But he yanked her
by her hair and dragged her by it, frog-marching her from the bedroom.
She was taken stumbling down the stairs to the first floor of the house
and then, Chip listening, he heard them go into the basement, shutting
its door with a slam.
“I’m telling my mommie,” Ginger said. Chip whirled about.
Ginger lay prone on the bed, still yoked within her collar, her face
twisted toward him and frowning. She stuck out her tongue at him. It
was a sweet raspberry-colored tongue.
Chip walked over to her. He sat his bare buns down on the
bed. He reached through her hair and grabbed the back of her collar.
Abruptly he yanked her up so that she knelt spread-legged on the bed,
but with her back straight. She gazed open-mouthed at him. She was
still trapped in her collar, her arms held aloft, her hands beside her
face. Her breasts, young and still growing, stuck out like fleshy
points from her chest. Her belly drew in and then swelled in a flat
little swell, then drew in again. Her pubis, just coming in, grew in
soft fleecy curls where her legs met.
“Do you want me to undo the straps or do you want me to just
leave you like that?” Chip asked her matter-of-factly.
“Undo-- Undo the straps,” Ginger replied in a small, tremulous
voice.
“Okay,” Chip grunted. It seemed to settle the matter. Ginger
remained quiet, poised on her knees, her back straight, her cunny arched
forward invitingly, as Chip undid her collar and straps. Out of the
corner of his eye he noticed his seed dripping from her cunt, mixed with
her blood. It stained the white sheet on the bed.
“There, you are undone,” Chip said when he’d finished. Ginger
shook her head like a dog emerging from water. Her hair flew about,
looking so lovely even in its tousled, unkempt state, all mussed from
playing and fucking.
“Where are my ribbons?” Ginger asked. Kneeling still, she
glanced around. She seemed to value her hair ribbons more than her
hymen. She stretched back, a leonine cat stretching after a good fuck
by her husband-tiger, and fetched up her bows from where Annette had
dropped them. She retied them into her hair. “I have to go home now,”
Ginger said. Chip nodded.
Quietly, like a prisoner stealing past a guard, Ginger slipped
from the bed. She padded to the door of the bedroom. Chip watched her
bottom. It rolled sweetly like a small child’s beach ball, colored red
from where it had been slapped, white where Dave’s hand had not left an
imprint. At the door Ginger turned and blew Chip a kiss. “Bye,” she
called.
“Goodbye,” Chip replied. Then, feeling a little afraid, he
added, “Don’t you want to take a bath first before you go home?” But
Ginger was gone, slipped through the door and rushing fleet-footed down
the steps. Before he could even rise from the bed he heard the front
door open and close.
Chip got up from the bed. He felt drawn to the bedroom door
and then to the steps beyond. As he descended them, nude, his cock
dripping, the front door reopened. Ginger stole within. She was as
lovely as before, her hair pinned up again in pigtails, her body soft
and lissome, a cat, a kitten, a 12-year-old sexual tigress. All three
at once, Chip mused, and the sight of her made him stiffen, though,
sensing himself between his legs, he guessed he was not hard in the one
place he wished to be. For a moment his mind thought she might be
leading in her father, or the police. But it was just her, little
Ginger, all by herself.
“I forgot my umbrella. It’s raining outside,” she said. She
gazed up at him standing on the stairs. Quietly she crossed the living
room and tried the basement door. It opened. She stepped within.
Chip heard a scream. He bolted down the stairs. There was the
crack of a whip and another scream and then, emerging from that horrific
melange of sounds, little Ginger reappeared. She was holding her
umbrella aloft over her head. Quietly she closed the basement door
again. There was another scream, but the closed door shrouded it, so
that it sounded only like a ghoul wailing far out at sea.
“Bye. I have to go home now,” Ginger said to Chip. He was
standing by the door and he stepped back reluctantly to let her pass.
“Don’t-- Don’t you want me to walk you home or--?” he asked
solicitously. But Ginger only put a finger to her lips and smiled.
“Nobody’s home. I can sneak in and they’ll never know I was
gone, if I hurry. But they’ll be home soon.” She seemed distressed a
moment and reached down and cupped her pussy. She grinned. A sheepish,
surprised grin. “Your stuff is dripping out of me,” she said. “I never
went this far before. I guess I’ll-- I’ll have to hold myself.”
“Take a bath when you get home,” Chip said.
“Sure. O.K. But I have to go or they’ll get home ahead of
me,” Ginger said. Then she hurried for the front door. She held her
umbrella in one hand, over her head, and with her other hand she held
herself between her legs, catching the drips of Chip’s seed that dripped
out of her. Somehow she got the door open again and, in a flash of
brown pigtails, she was gone. For a moment Chip heard the rain outside
and then the front door closed and he heard nothing.
Chip felt his cock dripping between his legs. He looked down
at his feet. The house was quiet. He hoped Annette had a maid to clean
up after them. He wiped away a drop of sperm from the tip of his
penis. He should go too, he guessed. He could stay and watch Annette
be whipped but he was quite thoroughly spent and he didn’t want to be
upstaged in the cock department by Dave.
Beckoning, perhaps, a wail arose from the basement, a female
wail, but Chip decided to go upstairs instead. He went back into the
master bedroom where he’d fucked Ginger and looked at their bed. Yes,
it was theirs now too, as well as Annette’s and Dave’s, for they’d
shared it to deflower her. He went to the dresser and opened it and
rummaged around until he found some of Dave’s underwear. To his chagrin
he discovered that Dave wore underwear a size bigger than he did.
“Fat ass,” Chip assured himself. He stepped into the
underpants and pulled them on. Then he went to the closet and fished
out one of Dave’s shirts, and a pair of pants, trying to pick items Dave
wouldn’t mind losing. He put them on, got socks for himself, went
downstairs. He felt awkward tying on Dave’s sneakers but he didn’t want
to go down into the basement for his own clothes. He didn’t know why,
he just didn’t. Perhaps he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Annette
whipped. She had such a glorious bottom, so white, so perfect. He
tried to dismiss it from his mind. He got the shoes tied and went to
the front door and opened it.
The rain met him. As he stood on the front porch, admiring his
camaro, hoping the rain would stop, standing half in and half out of the
open front door, he saw a police car roll by. It startled him, but the
car kept going, moving purposefully but with no sense of purpose,
patrolling. The car disappeared in the rain.
Dave pulled the front door shut and decided to take his chances
with the rain. He darted across the wet lawn. He remembered that he’d
left his keys and his wallet inside but his car was unlocked, and he
knew where he had a second set of keys in the car. Let Dave and Annette
keep the wallet. He only carried money in it, and not much, for he knew
he’d be laying it aside while he partied at their house. He opened his
car door and slipped inside. He shut it quickly. He was wet! He could
feel the rain streaming down his face and it had wet his hair and Dave’s
shirt was matted to his chest.
“Damn, that was great,” Chip admitted to himself. He’d partied
a little before, but never like that. He reached over to the other seat
and wedged his hand down into it where the back of the seat met the seat
itself and, searching within the seat crack, he fished out the extra
pair of keys to his car.
Dave started his car and wheeled it about on the slick street
in the rain. He looked once more at Dave and Annette’s house, wondering
if she was still being whipped. Then he saw a light come on upstairs in
the house next door. Ginger. He smiled once, and then he floored his
Camaro and was gone.
30
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