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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Love Child part 15 of 15 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Epilogue
Tiffany called us together late the following afternoon. We
gathered around her in our bedroom, clutching our bottoms, still so
sore. She smiled at us. I knew what she was thinking. With our own
dainty and vulnerable bodies we had met the Mexicans on the
uncompromising field of love and somehow bested them. The callous
Mexican ladies, forced to watch us fuck ourselves on the cocks, robbing
them of their moment of greatest pleasure. And the hard-hearted
aristocrats, denied the more ruthless rape that the elder grandee would
have insisted upon. It was luck, mostly, I guess, with a little pluck
on our part at the very end.
“I’m very proud of you all,” Tiffany said to us, herself a
little sheepish. “And myself, too, I guess. I finally got over my fear
of being taken in the ass.” Lightly she spread her bottom cheeks,
reflexively. “But we must go.”
“Yes, we must go,” we all agreed, massaging ourselves in behind
even as we pooled our minds to the thought of escape.
And the next day we made good our escape. We got hold of a
van, with the help of a male laborer. He piled pillows into the van, on
all the seats, so we would have comfy chairs for our
still-smarting/stinging asses.
Our clothes had been stolen, down to the last string bikini.
Master feared we might leave after our basement-fucking. He had all our
clothes removed, whether purchased by him or by us. He hid them away
where we could not find them. He allowed us only to wear tennies and
t-shirts.
Bare bottomed, we nonetheless boarded the van. We would not be
dissuaded from our escape. Tiffany got in the driver’s seat and brought
the engine to life. The laborer made sure the coast was clear and we
left the estate, rolling quick as we could across the clipped grass.
Our blonde heads bobbed all too visibly in the van’s windows. Our eyes
were furtive.
Yet, somehow, we reached the jungle, passed on, sped through
the village, and moved out into the countryside. Tiffany pressed hard
on the gas all the way. The jungle gods must have decided to let us go,
I told myself, for the odds against us successfully fleeing were high.
Five bosomy white girls in t-shirts and sneakers were not a common sight
in rural mexico. Or anywhere else. Especially girls without panties.
Later we found two American hitchhikers along the roadside.
More luck, a gift from well-pleased gods. It was the gods of the
Indians, I knew then, the gods of a race that lived here long before the
Spanish arrived. Yes, they were the true owners of the jungle, not the
grandee or his son. They had accepted our offering in the village
square, they had given us rain then to cool us, loving our bodies,
touching them with their wet downpour. Perhaps they had even seen us in
the grandee’s basement, down in the bowels of the jungle, buried in a
chamber in the very earth itself. We had performed well there, giving
ourselves up to the hard, indriving cocks. Mine had been made of rubber
from the jungle’s rubber trees. The gods themselves had fucked me, not
Mistress. With their own implement they had fucked me.
The hitchhikers got us home. Across the American border, and
on to wherever we needed to be. For Tiffany, it was back to Columbia,
back to Elizabeth. She could give Elizabeth’s passengers every part of
herself now. And I knew Elizabeth would encourage her to, now and then,
easing the guidelines for her most special passengers. Some of the
other girls went with Tiffany, others went back to their suburban homes
in America’s heartland. Lost little girls suddenly “found” and returned
to thankful parents.
For me, it was back to Argentina. I made a new life there for
myself, working for the Argentinean government once more. It turned out
I still had connections. My English misadventure was passed off as the
best attempt a 15-year-old girl could make. I was even thanked for my
efforts, and given a small medal.
Perhaps someday I will return to America. Perhaps when I have
a child. And I will have a child soon, I hope. Well, not too soon,
maybe. But while I’m still young. I want to be a young mom, a mom in
my 20’s. You get along better with your children that way. Yes, I
shall have to find a “Mr. Right” for myself and be a young mom. Someday
soon.
THE END
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-END OF 272 EMISSION
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