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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Nov 17 Enslaved to Eros part 1 of 2 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
ENSLAVED TO EROS
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
Can you be too much in love? I suppose you can be, though I
wouldn’t have believed it, at the time.
In the fall of my 8th grade year, I got a job at a flower
shop. I loved the scents of the flowers. I liked arranging them. And
I enjoyed meeting the people who came in to buy them.
But most of all, which was my undoing, I liked the man who
owned the flower shop.
Don’t laugh. He had lots of money. He owned lots of different
properties. The flower shop was just one of them. It didn’t bespeak
anything about his masculinity. If anything, less masculinity in him
would have been preferable. If nothing else, it would have made him
safer.
As it was, he was a tall, gallant man, with a slightly brutish
air, from his days as a professional football player. His name was
Rob. He’d made lots of money playing pro football, and was apparently
quite famous, though being a girl, and quite young, I knew nothing of
his career, save what he told me. But he didn’t brag about it, as other
men might. It was over and done, he had his trophies. Now instead of a
uniform, he wore expensive suits. He was a businessman.
Usually, Rob didn’t visit the store. Instead, his wife came.
She supervised me. But she did it with an extremely light hand. She
respected me. I admired her for that. I was only 13, but she trusted
me to treat the customers well, and count up all the money. Which I
did, quite professionally, although I lost ten dollars once.
That’s how it started. We were discussing the ten dollars, and
I was quite sorry, and wanted to do something for her, because, you
know, it had been my responsibility, and I’d lost it. She had dark
hair, long hair, which reminded me a lot of Bridget. And she had long
eyelashes, and eyes that seemed to drill right into me, even though she
was loath to accuse me of anything. She was very kind to me. But there
was sort of a tension between us, despite her kindness, for I wanted to
do well by her, and in my job, because it was my first.
“Well, Bambi,” she said. Her name was Jane. She stroked the
stem of a rose that I’d been arranging with other flowers. Her finger
nipped a thorn on the rose’s long stem and began to bleed.
“Oh!” I cried. “I’m sorry! Let me get you a kleenex,” I
said.
“No, it’s alright,” Jane replied. She put her finger to her
mouth and sucked upon it. I fetched a kleenex from a box under the
store’s front counter. I handed it to her.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked. She placed her fingertip
into the kleenex.
“There are boys who like me,” I answered.
Jane tossed back her long hair. She looked at me with those
burning, direct eyes of hers. “That’s not what I asked,” she said. I
felt a shiver run through me. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked
again.
“I-- I know a guy named Nick,” I said. “But he’s a lot older.
And I had a crush on a guy named Jim, but...” My voice trailed away. I
hadn’t seen Jim since the cave. I’d kissed him goodbye, almost
diffidently, expecting to see him again, and yet fearful, a little, of
where it might lead if I did. Now he was off, busy being a Navy SEAL
someplace, probably overseas, and I missed him.
“This Nick,” Jane said. “Do you like him?”
I gulped. ‘Not as much as your husband,’ I wanted to answer.
She waited for my reply. I said nothing.
“Do you like Rob, my husband?” Jane asked finally. Her eyes,
like deep dark blue pools, seemed to want to engulf me.
“Y- Yes,” I confessed. “Oh!” I cried. I put my face in my
hands. “Yes,” I said. I felt guilty about losing the ten dollars and
perhaps this was my way of making up for it. “Yes, I don’t like him,
though,” I added. “I love him.” I looked at her. “You should have
children by him,” I said. And the implied threat, I think, was that, if
she didn’t, I was more than ready to.
“How curious,” Jane said. She gave me a sly smile. “You love
my husband, and I love you.” She saw me flinch. I could see she was
waiting to be rejected, but I said nothing. “Your personality is
pleasant,” she added, after a tension-filled pause. But its your body I
crave. You have such nice breasts,” Jane said, frankly. “And such a
sweet bottom. How round it is! How saucily you seem to proffer it,
when you bend to pick flowers from the pots on the lowest shelves.” She
paused again, waiting for me to storm at her, to insult her, but out of
love for her husband, if nothing else, I didn’t. “And how sweetly you
offer it when you bend over when my husband is visiting the store,” she
added.
I placed my hands on my hips. Not authoritatively, but rather
as one taking possession of something. I felt the denim of my jeans.
Her words had seemed to almost strip them off me, leaving me standing
before her with a bare fanny.
“What-- what do you wish to do with my bottom, if you were to,
to have your way with it?” I asked. I gulped. I felt ridiculous asking
such a question and yet, yet it had to be asked, I thought. One woman
to another.
Jane plucked the long-stemmed rose from the vase it had been
sitting in. She took the kleenex from her finger and let it carelessly
drop to the floor. She waved the rose through the air. Its stem was
springy.
“I should,” Jane paused. “I should discipline you, for taking
such an interest in my husband.” Her long eyelashes fluttered
nervously.
I heard myself swallow. “I think you’d almost like me to have
your husband, so you could... have me,” I answered boldly.
Jane put the stem of the rose to her lips. She was careful to
avoid its thorns. She sucked upon it. The thin green stem crossed
between her lips like a gag.
“Yes,” she said at last. Her breath came hot over the stem,
which remained tightly pressed to her lips. “Yes, I might,” she said.
Suddenly she ripped the stem from her mouth and tossed back her hair.
“How silly!” she exclaimed. “It would be, of course, quite illegal.
And abusive,” she said.
“Yes,” I nodded. I felt her eyes peer deep into my soul.
“Invite your friend Nick to come along,” she said. “Is he
handsome?”
“Yes,” I breathed. We were almost beyond words, I felt,
communicating more by looks and minute gestures. Invite Nick to
come...?
“To a party, of course,” Jane said. She gave her hair another
toss. It was long, rich, glossy. “This weekend, perhaps?”
“Not--” I paused. My mind, with difficulty, thought of other
things besides the peering of her eyes and the magnificence of her
husband. “Not this weekend,” I said. “But next weekend... my parents
will be away.”
Jane broke her gaze with me. She turned. Her long rope of
hair caressed her back. She had a slim back, a slim body, save for her
breasts, which were substantial. She was very beautiful. She might
have been a fashion model, if she’d been blessed with less cleavage.
“Next weekend, then,” Jane said. She spoke over her shoulder to me,
toyed with a flower arrangement, with her fingers. It was a new
arrangement that I’d just put together and I saw that her fingers,
aimless and careless, not thinking, were dishevelling it. Yet I didn’t
mind.
“I may or I may not, depending,” I said. I felt resistance in
my voice.
Jane turned to me. She let go of my carefully arranged
flowers. “You may or may not, but you will. You like my husband too
much,” Jane said.
I felt myself nod. “Yes,” I agreed.
Promptly at seven o’clock, on a windy Friday night, I knocked
on their door. They lived in a large Tudor mansion, but, given the size
of the other homes in their neighborhood, it wasn’t conspicuous. The
large trees in their front yard swayed. I huddled against Nick to keep
warm. I wasn’t wearing much. A miniskirt, a slinky pair of panties,
and, under my soft, thin sweater, no bra, so my nipples might show
themselves the minute I became excited. In fact, thanks to the cold,
they were standing up already. I blushed. I wished I’d worn a bra, but
it was too late now. We were here.
Jane answered the door. It was an oversized door, large and
thick. Despite her height of 5’ 9” she looked small and weak beside it
when she opened it. Yet she had strong eyes. Large and predatory, like
a wolf’s.
“Oh!” she cried, suddenly. She was wearing an extremely short
leather miniskirt and the wind flipped it up. Her panties showed. They
were white schoolgirl panties, but thinner and sexier, giving her an
innocent allure despite the black leather of her skirt, and the matching
black leather vest she wore above it.
I felt the wind on my seat. I clutched at the back of my skirt
as Jane’s hands fluttered down over her private, pulling her mini
along. A car, rolling past on the street, slowed, seemed to pause.
Jane peered out beyond us.
“Come in, quickly,” she urged. She seemed a bit hapless. We
scurried by, as she held her miniskirt down over her crotch.
The door closed beyond us. Jane’s hair, like mine, was
disheveled.
“Oh!” she breathed. “I didn’t know it had grown so windy
outside.”
“Yes,” I said. I drew a brush from my purse. Quickly I
repaired the long locks of my hair. She passed to another room,
returned brushing her own hair.
“I’m so sorry about the wind,” Jane said to us. I smiled. It
made her house feel like a refuge, I thought. A sanctuary. Like any
well-built home, it had thick walls. You could barely hear the wind
outside, and then only if you listened very closely. Her home was warm
and there was the scent of wood in the air. I heard the low crackle of
a fire in a fireplace coming from an adjoining room. Somewhere, music
played. It was soft. It seemed to lull my senses. Surrounding us,
though we stood still in the foyer, were antiques. An ancient vase,
painted with a scene from China. A painting, perhaps from one of the
Impressionist masters, on the wall. It showed a boat, gliding across a
river in morning mist. The carpet was plush and absorbed the sound of
my spiked heels when I walked upon it.
Jane smiled. She let out a laugh, as one uncertain, nervous.
I smiled, looked at Nick. He passed his hand back through his
wind-fluffed hair and grinned. My eyes ran down his work shirt to his
jeans. He showed a protuberance there. Jane had insisted that whoever
I brought abstain from sex for a week. He had obeyed, apparently, given
his pronounced lump in the front of his trousers.
Rob appeared. He sauntered in from the room where Jane had
gone to fetch her hair brush. His eyes fixed, with the jealousy of a
competing male, on Nick’s crotch. There was embarassing second where
Nick was forced to endure the man’s gaze; then Rob politely passed his
eyes up to Nick’s face and nodded.
“Glad you could come,” Rob said to Nick. His eyes moved to me,
seemed to undress me. I shivered. He was holding a drink. He sipped
it lightly as he gazed at me. His eyes fastened on my breasts. My
nipples, already hard from the chilliness outside, seemed to stiffen
further. I felt them offering themselves through my sweater.
Jane, despite the size of her breasts, wore no shirt under her
leather vest. I had not noticed this immediately. I had been too
wind-chilled, too embarrassed with thoughts of what the night, if we
stayed, portended. Yet now, with feminine instinct, I noticed that
Nick’s eyes were fixed on her tits. Letting my gaze pass to her bosoms,
I saw that Jane wore a leather vest, and nothing more. She had white
cuffs on her wrists, but no shirt. Her skin was white, white as a
blouse might have been, but I realized it was her soft skin I was
looking at. Around her neck, fashionably, she wore a starched white
collar. But, again, it was just a collar, matching her cuffs, with
nothing but her skin inbetween.
And the black leather vest. She touched a button on the vest,
undid it. It fell open to reveal the space between her breasts. I saw
the soft, buttery leather of her vest grow to two points. Her nipples,
underneath it, were becoming erect. The vest was so thin, I realized,
that it failed to hide the stiffening of her nipples underneath.
“Would you like a drink?” Rob asked myself, Nick. He held his
own glass aloft, as if saluting our arrival.
“Sure,” I heard myself say.
“Yes,” Nick agreed.
“Yes, please get them both drinks, darling. And myself as
well,” Jane told her husband. She flicked back her long black hair.
She smiled at us and asked us if we’d like to go sit by the fire. We
said yes.
“Nice painting,” Nick said, pausing by the Impressionist work
on the wall. Perhaps he was nervous about his erection, and wishing to
hide it in conversation.
“Yes, isn’t it?” Jane said. She drew close beside him. Her
hand, as if to steady herself, passed to his waist. She curled a finger
through one of his belt loops on his pants. He wore a leather belt.
Her free fingers stroked it. Together they stared at the painting. I
heard the clink of glasses in the next room. Rob was mixing drinks. He
called out to us, asking our choices.
“Do you have any pineapple juice?” Nick asked Jane.
“Yes, I think so,” Jane said. Her eyes sought Nick’s. They
met. I sensed an exchange of electric desire between them. “A Hawaiian
cocktail,” Nick called out to Rob. But his eyes were fixed firmly on
Jane as he spoke.
“And you, Bambi?” Rob asked from the next room.
“A... um... a Cherie,” I said, thinking of some old magazines
I’d found in a boy’s room when I went visiting. He’d been quite
embarrassed. I’d bid him goodnight upon finding them, leaving him to
his magazines, since he had at least 10 of them and obviously liked them
so much.
“And you dear?” Rob called. He had to call twice more, before
his wife heard him.
“Cuban Special,” she replied at last, absently, her eyes having
since passed from Nick’s face to his chest. His own eyes had moved down
to her well-pointed breasts.
“It is... it is by Cezanne,” Jane said rather haltingly to Nick
when her husband appeared. He gave us our drinks. The four of us
stared at the painting for a moment. Rob passed his hand behind my back
and let his palm rest on my far hip. I felt a tension in his fingers.
Did he wish to put his hand lower? My skirt was short. My legs were
long and bare. I wore spiked heels, that lifted my bottom and made its
swell more obvious.
Nick turned away from the painting. He found himself facing
Rob and the two of them confronted each other for a moment, awkwardly,
Nick still with a visible lump in the front of his trousers. My eyes
glanced down at Rob’s crotch. His own trouser-front had begun to
swell. But his pants were more expensive. They were not tight work
jeans, like Nick wore, but tweed. He wore a business-style shirt with
them.
Jane, perhaps to relieve the tension between the men, moved
close to me. I felt her hot breath on my cheek. I turned, lifted my
face. She took it as a willingness to kiss and I found her lips upon
mine.
“Oh!” I said. I lifted my drink aloft as we kissed, as if
toasting our act. Her own glass lifted, as if seconding me. I felt her
hand pass around behind me. She pulled up my skirt. My bottom showed.
Rob, still standing near me, moved his hand from my hip to my ass.
Freely he palmed me. I felt the warmth of his broad hand on my cheeks
and knew he felt a similar warmth from my tender backside. I wore
panties with a slim back and it had sunk between the cheeks of my ass,
like a g-string. Gently, feeling my cheeks, Rob drew the fabric of my
panties’ seat out of my ass. He straightened my undies for me. He
passed a hand smoothly across them when he was done. I felt my bottom
jut out at him in thanks. It was instinctive; my mouth meshed into
Jane’s as I did it.
“Nick?” Rob said to my sometime boyfriend.
“Yeah,” Nick answered.
“I want you to know I’m not gay,” Rob said. At the same time,
out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the older man reached for the
yonger man’s crotch. Nick, surprisingly, though he was as masculine as
any male I’d ever met, simply held his drink and watched. Rob took hold
of Nick’s zipper with his fingers. With his other hand, he gently
cupped and took hold of the fabric of Nick’s pants, between his legs.
“However,” Rob said. “You’re obviously uncomfortable. Consider this a
favor, not an insult.”
“Yeah,” Nick said, with a surprised voice. He gripped his
drink and watched as Rob pulled down his pants zipper. His cotton
underpants bulged through the fly of his jeans. He let out a small
sigh, obviously relieved.
“There,” Rob said. He desisted, taking his hands away, leaving
Nick with his cock, covered only by his underpants, sticking out through
the fly of his jeans. “I used to play professional football,” Rob said
to Nick.
“Uh, yeah,” Nick said. He sipped his drink. His eyes passed
hopefully to Jane. After all, if her husband was willing to let him
unzip, he might just permit more. All was still tentative, nothing had
been fixed. Agreement, I have found, is never made explicit
beforehand. The players must feel each other out, must decide if they
are right for each other. I was kissing Jane and finding her hair soft
as my own, but dark, her perfume sweet, but deeper and richer than my
own. I think she enjoyed the lightness of my perfume. It bespoke
innocence.
“Your wife has nice tits, a nice ass,” Nick said to Rob.
“I keep urging her to be a model. But she tells me her tits
are too big,” Rob replied.
“She could pose for Penthouse,” Nick said.
Jane’s mouth separated from mine. I found myself gasping for
breath.
“Do you think so?” Jane laughed to Nick. “Would you cum over
me if you saw me in Penthouse?”
“Sure,” Nick said. Jane glanced at his opened crotch. I let
my own eyes pass down to his pants. I stared open-mouthed. He was
quite big. I’d seen him before, but it was always a treat to see him,
all the same. I could make out the head of his cock within the bulging
sword-like shaft of cotton that stuck up through his fly.
Jane’s vest had fallen open more completely as she’d kissed
me. One of her breasts showed its cone, it’s nipple. She didn’t bother
to cover it as our eyes passed from Nick’s cloth-covered penis to her
naked tit. It was sumptuous to look at; white flesh, surmounted by a
cherry tip, its nipple ridid and hard atop the heavy, soft tit. She was
only 19. She had young breasts; they hung from her chest like twin
melons, their nipples poking upward like those of a young girl. Like,
indeed, my own somewhat smaller, high-perched breasts.
“Let’s go to the living room,” Jane invited. “There’s a fire
there.” She turned. As she moved from us she let her vest slip off her
shoulders. They were thin, frail; like a model’s. Her vest fell to her
waist, showing her back. It was slender. She removed her vest as she
walked, placed it on a table at the end of the foyer. There, I saw,
half-hidden behind a vase of flowers, there was a leather riding crop.
She dropped her vest beside it and picked it up. She swung it in front
of herself, lightly, careful not to hit her breasts with it. Then,
still walking, she held it at both ends and flexed it.
We followed. I felt a shiver run down me as I watched her,
from behind, playing absently with the crop. Did they own horses? Had
the crop been left on the foyer table accidently, from a recent riding?
Or was it merely a toy, that they’d purchased for other, less innocent,
purposes? I didn’t know.
We filtered into the living room. Four of us, one
bare-breasted, another with his cock showing between the open halves of
his fly. We settled onto chairs in front of a large fireplace. A fire
smoldered within it. The house was pleasantly warm. A fire was only
needed for atmosphere, for decoration.
I still held my drink. The others still held theirs. Despite
Jane’s nude bosoms, despite Nick’s bulging cock, all was still
decorous. We might have been guests at a formal party, we were still so
polite. I liked our politeness. Orgies, even the thought of them,
don’t appeal to me. But a party, where everyone is discreet, until at
last the moment of denoument arrives, those have a pleasant allure.
After all, I was 13. They had to procure my consent. With an older
couple they might have been more open. But I was a kind of albatross,
perhaps ready for sex, perhaps not. I had to be brought to the jousting
match gently.
My two knights of the evening settled into opposite chairs.
Nick, with his penis displayed, though his underpants still covered its
raw nudity. Rob, facing him, his own protuberance now more visible,
despite the more comfortable cut of his pants. I made to sit with Nick
but Jane switched me to her husband’s couch before I could sit down.
“We must make acquaintances, dear,” Jane told me. “Sit with my
husband. I shall sit across from you, with Nick?” Her sentence ended
with a question mark. She was directing me, yet asking at the same
time. I had only not to resist, which I did, sitting down as she’d told
me with Rob. She sat down with my boyfriend.
Her eyes glanced at his penis.
“Are you still feeling uncomfortable?” Jane asked Nick. She
touched the tip of her riding crop to his cloth-covered cock.
“A- a little,” Nick answered. He took a quick swallow from his
drink.
“Let me, then,” Jane said. She knelt in front of Nick, on the
floor. I watched, wide-eyed, as she laid her crop next to Nick’s thigh
on the sofa. Then, with her fingers, she pulled at his white
underpants. She managed to find the hole cut into a man’s shorts and
drew Nick’s penis through it. He presented himself to us, bare and long
and quite breathtakingly hard. His thing pulsed. The entire shaft
seemed like some big pneumatic drill, quivering of his pulse, waiting to
be put to work.
Rob, having passed his arm anew behind my waist, drew me close
to him. I felt his breath on my cheek. I turned my face up and found
his lips seeking mine. I surrendered myself to a kiss from him even as
Jane, telling Nick his thing felt too hot, proposed to cool his tool
with her mouth.
I felt Rob’s tongue invade between my lips. Jane, at the same
time, put Nick’s hot penis upon her tongue. She sucked at Nick and I
sucked upon her husband’s tongue.
Rob became more insistent. His hands lifted my ass. He
managed to get them up under my skirt. My panties, so recently
straightend by him, he yanked down in back. Then, finding my bottom
bare, he cupped it, and spread the cheeks of my seat. A finger delved
within my crack. He touched my anus. I jerked; let out a shriek. It
was muffled by the invasion of his tongue into my mouth. I found my
cheeks, those of my mouth, split wider. The tongue I’d so recently
sucked upon became like a snake, slithering deep in me. I choked upon
it.
Rob’s kiss, despite my difficulty in receiving it, didn’t end
quickly. For long minutes he seemed to be trying to gag me with his
tongue. I begged for air, finally was permitted it, only to be taken
anew as soon as I’d caught my breath. His finger dug in my ass. He was
rude, insistent. My anus was forced to open to him. He explored me. I
found his explorations uncomfortable.
And yet, at last, when our kiss broke off, I sat beside Rob,
hugging him. We gazed at his wife and Nick. She sensed we were
watching and disengaged, after a bit, her mouth from Nick’s tool. It
stuck up through his open fly, glistening with her saliva. His whole
length was wet; she was quite a championess when it came to putting men
where they belonged, I saw. She did not suffer the discomfort I did, in
attempting such an intimite act.
“Your wife gives good blow jobs,” Nick said to Rob. Jane
picked up her crop and swatted his penis. “Ow!” Nick said. His cock
quivered under the blow.
“Don’t embarrass me,” Jane said. Then she smiled. “You’re
quite a trooper,” she said. “Most men would have spent, with that kind
of a sucking.”
“Thanks,” Nick said. I stared at his cock. It was still as
long and hard as before, but wet now, from Jane’s mouth. Wet from its
cock-tip down to the sprouting of his bush, where his underpants ringed
it.
“You can both stay the night?” Jane asked. Her eyes remained
on Nick’s penis. I didn’t know whether ‘both’ meant him and his cock,
or him and me.
Nick looked at me. “Sure,” he said. His eyes returned to
Jane, to her crop.
Jane’s bare bosoms swayed as she tossed back her long rope of
hair. It was glossy. It hung down her back, her sole covering above
her waist. Her miniskirt rode high on her thighs. Her legs were long.
Black stockings, made of sheer silk, clung to her legs. They stayed up
of their own accord, she needed no garters to hold them. She wore
spiked heels. Her feet looked elegantly formal in her heels, despite
the nudity of her bosoms.
“Do you go riding a lot?” Nick asked Jane. His cock was still
smarting from the slapping kiss her crop had given it. Yet he did not
rub himself. He didn’t dare, I think, for fear of spending himself on
their rug. He looked unbearably hard, like a submarine about to burst
its rivets.
“No,” Jane answered. Her voice was frank. She gave a wave of
her crop. “Not in the conventional way,” she added. “But in the
unconventional, well, if the steed is handsome enough. Then he finds
our home is well equipped.”
“For riding?” Nick asked.
“For riding and being ridden,” Jane replied. Her eyes darted
to her husband. Nick’s followed.
“You are well built for it,” Rob told Nick. At the same time I
felt his hand pass down between my thighs and feel within my slit. I
had my panties on, but his finger pushed deep. I stifled a scream,
barely, biting my lower lip. My skirt was up, round my waist. My
undies showed, the bareness of my legs from my feet all the way up to my
hips.
“Do you think so?” Nick asked. He let his cock jut freely at
Rob. They were like two men in a locker room, comparing equipment. But
Rob’s pecker was still concealed within his trousers, only the bulge of
it showing.
Bare-breasted, Jane stood between the two men. She toyed with
her crop. She glanced at both their crotches.
“Would you like to do some riding?” Rob asked Nick.
“Sure,” Nick answered.
“And you?” Jane asked me. I wanted to reply ‘What sort of
riding?’ but felt too embarrassed to. Instead I only nodded. I felt
Rob’s finger touch my face. He intruded it between my lips and I sucked
upon it. With his other hand he dawdled within my slit, where my legs
met.
“Unnnh!” I gasped, at a sudden, deeper movement of his lower
hand. It made me suck upon his finger more urgently. I felt my hips
buck forward on the couch.
Jane’s eyes passed from me back to Nick. “You look so
uncomfortably hard,” Jane said to Nick. “Perhaps if you took your
trousers off completely?”
“That might help, in the end,” Nick agreed. He laughed. Jane
laughed.
“How many years has it been since you wet the bed?” Jane
asked. There was an air of spontaneity in her voice.
“Huh? Don’t worry. I won’t wet your bed,” Nick answered. He
began to unbuckle the belt on his jeans.
“No,” Jane said. She blushed. She waved her crop through the
air, aimlessly. Her heavy breasts bounced on her chest as she let out
another laugh. “I want you to,” she confessed, looking at Nick’s
penis. “I want to put you in our big bed upstairs and see you wet it.”
“That’s crazy,” Nick said.
“No, we’ll all do it,” Jane offered. She looked at her
husband. “What do you think, honey? I want his long cock, and yours,
to wet the bed together. And Bambi and I, with our cunts. We’ll pee
too. It will help us all feel more free with each other. It’ll be hard
to have any inhibitions left, after that!”
Rob bit my ear.
“Owww,” I whined. It hurt. He apologized and licked it with
his tongue. Yet I sensed he’d enjoyed hearing me wince at the pain. I
felt a tremor in my thin, lightly tanned legs and it ran all the way up
to the juncture of my thighs. I felt moistness suffuse my slit. His
finger played with my opening. I sucked on the finger he’d placed in my
mouth more intensely.
“Shall we hobble them, dear?” Jane asked her husband. Nick,
who was unbuttoning his pants, and pulling them down off his hips, so
that his bare ass already was making contact with their expenisvely
covered couch, looked up.
“Huh?” he asked.
Jane smiled at him. She waved her riding crop through the
air. It had, I’m afraid, the mesmerizing effect on him of a little
girl’s magic wand. “Yes!” Jane blurted, with a tantalizing frankness.
She lowered her wand-like crop and touched the bulbous tip of his cock.
Pre-cum drooled from its tip. It fell onto their rug. “There is always
a bit of jealousy, don’t you think?” Jane asked. “So we handle it, at
least with first time visitors, by hobbling their feet.” She smiled at
Nick, at his cock, with her pretty, bewitching eyes. Her full lips
pouted a bit, as if to show disappointment if he should refuse.
He could not. His dick was too hard for that. Instead,
sitting bare-assed on their sofa, with a quick glance at Rob, he agreed.
“Very good,” Jane said. “Look, naughty boy, you’re drooling
pre-cum on our carpet. You’ll have to pay us back for that.”
Nick was half in the growing fantasy and still half in
reality. He gazed down between his knees, at his quavering cock, at the
small puddle it had made on their rug.
“I don’t have the money to pay for--” Nick began. Jane leaned
forward. Her large breasts hung off her slim frame, like ripe fruit
quavering in a soft breeze. Her nipples made two lovely ripe sprouts at
the tips of her bosoms. She placed a finger on his lips.
“Shhhh. There’s more than one way to pay,” Jane reassured
Nick. He nodded mutely.
Jane turned to Rob and myself. “Let’s see her breasts. Don’t
just play in her slit,” she said to her husband. She was eager to get
our games underway, before Nick or I changed our minds. Jane walked
over to the couch where we sat and, without so much as a word requesting
permission, lifted up my sweater. I felt shock as my boobs tumbled
out. Yet there was a kind of wild ecstasy to being stripped, I found,
especially by a woman. I turned my face and sucked harder on Rob’s
finger, while simultaneously trying to kiss his cheek.
“Up. Let’s get it completely off,” Jane urged. She spoke to
no one in particular, perhaps me, perhaps her husband, perhaps us both.
With her hands she lifted my sweater over my head. I felt a curious
sense of being trapped as the sweater ascended over my head, remained
there a moment, my boobs swinging naked and free, and finally snapped
past my head. Jane drew my sweater up my arms and over my hands. I was
bare-chested now, like she was. I compared her bosoms to mine. Hers
were bigger, but, for my age, mine were an attractive size. I had
melon-like bosoms, pertly offered. Hers loomed larger still, lovely
cantelopes with perfect cherry nipples. We were both excited. Our
bosom tips stood out in pointed perfection, seeking caresses.
Jane set my sweater aside and returned her hands to herself.
She reached back behind her fanny and unzipped her too-short skirt. At
the same time her husband undid mine. A moment later and we were both
stripped to her panties. I wore sinfully slim panties, resembling a
g-string. They were black. Jane’s had a look of schoolgirl innocence
to them. Their whiteness matched the silly white shirtcuffs she wore on
her wrists, and the starched white collar round her neck. She had
clearly dressed herself to play, and to be seen both in a dressed and
undressed state. I admired her planning. Yet now, with her black vest
and black miniskirt gone, her long black stockings looked out of place.
She knew it, and walked over to Nick.
“Do you like my stockings?” she asked. She bent and pushed
apart his legs and walked between them. As she did his cock, long and
thick, came between her own legs. She let it stand up stiffly between
her knees. Then, placing both her hands on his shoulders, she bent and
captured his dong between her thighs. A bare column of penis-flesh,
trapped between silk stockinged legs. I nearly swooned looking at it.
Nick nearly spoiled their rug with a load of cum. Jane began scissoring
her legs back and forth.
“God! Don’t!” Nick cried. His whole frame wrenched upward in
agonized delight. His cock, trapped between her legs, for Jane gripped
them hard together the moment he moved, was pulled, hard, unable to
follow his body in its upward lurch.
“Good slaves ask their masters and mistresses for
instructions. They don’t try to tell them what to do,” Jane said to
Nick. She reached down between his legs and slid her fingers between
the couch and his testicals. She cupped his balls. Gently she squeezed
him. “God, you’re full!” she exclaimed. “You *did* save yourself for a
week, as I told Bambi to instruct you. Very good. Now you must save
yourself a little more, while I vent my feminist frustrations on you by
torturing your big handsome penis. Do you think you can manage it?”
“Y-Yes,” Nick, his pants halfway down his thighs, still
clothing his legs, but with his ass and balls and dick quite naked,
stammered.
“Very good,” Jane said. “Now get your things off. There’s
special clothing a slave wears while he’s visiting. Not street
clothes. Clothes that accentuate your wonderful body. Strip, young
man. Your master and mistress have plans for you.
Jane returned to Rob and myself. “God, you’re slow!” she
scolded her husband. She pulled me off his lap. “Get undressed, dear.
I’ll see to her,” she ordered Rob. She knelt and, with me standing over
her, feeling quite awkward, she unceremoniously stripped my panties down
my legs. A simple, fluid, graceful movement of her hands, and they were
down to my feet. She bade me to step out of them and I did. “Now off
with these heels,” Jane said. “These are street shoes. We don’t allow
street shoes to be worn in the house.”
“But--” I protested. I liked my heels. They lifted my bottom
and made me look sexy and older. Jane unbuckled them from my feet and
tossed them aside.
Jane looked up at me. Her eyes seemed to take in the
fleeciness of my cunt and, far above it, my face, both at the same
time. Gazing up from her kneeling position, between my legs, she told
me, “You’re still a child. You will dress as a child slave while you’re
visiting here,” she said.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Turn around,” Jane told me. I turned, my bare breasts
quivering on my chest. I was made to face her with my behind. She
reached up and grabbed the pert twin mounds of my bottom. “How sweet
and rubbery they feel... just like a child’s,” Jane exclaimed. “I can
assure you that your lovely ass will get lots of attention during your
stay,” she said. “Do you know why?”
“No... why?” I asked with a breathlessness I couldn’t
explain.” Her long fingers gripped my cheeks and pulled them apart. I
felt air touch my anus.
“Because mistress says it will. You’re not to ask, just
accept. Do you understand?” Jane said to me. I shivered, feeling my
bottomhalves gripped by her hands and pulled apart.
“Yes,” I managed to say.
“Yes, mistress,” Jane commanded me.
“Yes, mistress,” I said, though my voice was quiet and soft and
uncertain.
Jane let go of my bottom. Even after she did, I could still
feel the impress of her fingers. I felt possessed. Loved? I’m not
sure. But definitely like one who was possessed. By another. Who, if
she didn’t love me, at least had more than a passing admiration for me.
Just as I had more than a passing admiration for her husband. He rose,
he stripped off his clothes. I gazed in wonder at his chest, his arms,
his thighs. Especially between his legs, where his cock grew long and
thick and hard. He seemed to like having me watch him undress, but he
soon focused his attention on Nick.
“Get her ready,” Rob said to his wife, gruffly, when he was
completely nude, his clothes piled on the couch. “I’ll handle him.”
Rob walked over to Nick. He stood over my boyfriend, who still
sat on the couch. They were both naked as jaybirds. Nick’s pants were
on the floor. His shirt lay draped over the back of the couch.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, you look great,” Rob said to
Nick. Naked himself, with his cock stemming up from between his legs,
he gazed down at Nick. Especially at Nick’s penis.
“Thanks,” Nick said. “But I’m not gay,” he added.
“Don’t worry. I’m not either,” Rob said. “But my wife likes
having guys over, so I’m not uncomfortable being hard with another man.
If you don’t mind, I’m going to bind your feet. You’ll still be able to
walk. It’s just a chain, fixed between your ankles. It’s stashed under
the couch,” he said. He knelt down in front of Nick. “Don’t worry. I
won’t touch your dick,” Rob told my boyfriend.
I watched with riveted eyes as Rob, hard as stone, his penis
freely wiggling as he worked, pulled forth a length of chain from under
the couch. It had iron manacles at either end. The inside of each
manacle was lined with fur, to make it comfortable, but, all the same,
when fixed to Nick’s ankles the iron cuffs were locked with a key. They
looked tight, secure. Nick gazed down at his bare cock, his bare legs.
He lifted one foot, then the other.
“What are you going to do with that key?” Nick asked Rob.
“Put it away, where you’ll never find it,” Rob told my
boyfriend. He looked at my boyfriend’s testicles. “Damn. You’re
full. You look like you’ve got a pouch full of marbles or something,”
Rob told Nick.
“I’m not sure I like having my feet bound,” Nick said. He
lifted his feet, testing his new bonds. His dick waggled like a big
hard log between his legs. “I mean, it’s stupid, isn’t it?” Nick asked.
Rob stood up. “What? Having your legs fettered, but your dick
free?” Rob asked. “Better than the other way round, don’t you think?”
He walked away. “Care for another drink?” he asked.
“You mean, while my feet are bound like this?” Nick asked.
“Sure,” Rob answered. “You’re going to have to pee in the bed,
anyway. Let me get you something. We wouldn’t want you to disappoint
Jane by taking too long to do it.”
“Okay,” Nick said. His voice was uncertain. And no wonder!
Not only was he shackled, but I was suffering the same treatment, at
Jane’s hands. First, she slipped small, ankle-high socks on my feet.
They were soft and warm. I liked them. But I didn’t like the manacles
she fitted on me. They were big and heavy and made me feel like her
captive. A chain clinked between them. When I lifted one of my feet, I
found out how heavy the manacles were. They felt like they’d been used
on Roman galley slaves. They were the real thing, despite their fur
lining. I shivered, gazing down past my breasts at them.
“Do I have to wear these?” I asked.
“Yes. Now here’s your drink,” Jane said. Rob reappeared. He
handed me another Cherie. Reluctantly I drank it. I tasted less
alchohol, more water. I suspected he wanted me to drink several, in
turn, so I’d be ready when we went upstairs to pee in their bed.
Nick downed his drink, quickly. I think he was nervous about
what was to happen. Imagine, both of us captives! I wouldn’t have
guessed we’d let ourselves in for something like this. Yet we had,
somehow, and I felt a tingle of fear up between my legs, gazing at him,
feeling the softness and tenderness and absolute vulnerability of my own
nudity. Jane got a collar and bound it around my throat. It had a hook
for a leash along its side. In front, a small bell hung suspended from
it. Whenever I moved, the bell jingled. I felt like a kitten,
sock-footed and collared, waiting to do my master’s and mistress’
bidding. I sipped more of my drink. My tummy was beginning to feel
full. I would have to pee soon.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Jane suggested. With a switch of her
crop, lightly tapping my bottom, I could feel that her ‘suggestion’ was
to be taken quite seriously. I offered no resistance. As I headed for
the stairs, Rob hooked a leash into my collar. He let it dangle down
between my breasts, unheld. Its handle hung suspended against the
thatch of my pussy. It swayed as I walked, teasing me.
Jane walked in her high heels, her nude bottom swaying
provocatively, over to my boyfriend. She reached between Nick’s legs
and grabbed his cock. It was quite direct, the way she grabbed him. No
soft words, no blandishments, no compliments about his size. She simply
bent, grabbed him, and pulled. He was forced to stand. He gasped, with
a quickened desire to spend. She ignored his need. She let go of him
quickly as she’d seized him and fetched a big leather collar and put it
around his neck. It had no bell. She gave his taut asscheeks a quick
switch of her crop when she’d gotten him properly collared. Rob,
stepping up to my boyfriend, quickly fastened a leash to his throat. It
hung down past his cock. When he stepped forward, at Jane’s urging, it
banged against the shaft of his dick.
“Yes, let’s all get upstairs,” Jane said cheerily. She
watched, mesmerized, as Nick walked forward. He had a small tight ass
and she told him it was cute.
“Thanks,” Nick answered.
“I can’t wait to make it sore,” Jane added. She looked at me.
“Have you ever had anything up your butt before?” she asked me.
“No,” I lied. I didn’t wish to confess to my wild nights in
the cave. It had been last summer. It seemed like a long time ago
now. I’d been almost perfectly chaste since then.
“Well, this is the weekend to test all those sorts of things,”
Jane said. “And the place. Here, being on your best behavior will mean
something quite different from what it means in the normal world. Do
you understand?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“We’ll see if you do,” Rob said, ominously. He pulled on the
leash dangling from my collar. “Come on,” he said. “Your cuffs aren’t
that heavy. Start climbing the stairs.”
It was very unusual, walking upstairs with cuffs on my feet.
They weighed down my legs. Yet, despite the heaviness of my feet, the
rest of me was free. My bosoms bounced with unfettered abandon on my
chest, free of any bra. My hips wiggled as salaciously as I chose. My
bottom bulbed brazenly behind me, its split cheeks making an inviting
grind each time I lifted a foot to place it on the next step. My slit
moistened freely. My nipples perked with springy excitement at the tips
of my nipples. I moved my head, gazing up to the top of the stairs,
where our bed waited. I looked behind me, at Rob, following, with his
bare penis waggling out in front of him like some obscene sausage. And
Nick, my sometime boyfriend, walked with the same freedom, his cock
nakedly upstanding with a fierceness that made me frightened of it.
“How does it feel, to walk with your feet shackled but your
self, especially your sex, free and unclothed?” Jane asked my boyfriend.
“Weird,” Nick replied. And it was the same feeling for me,
though I was a girl.
“You’ll enjoy many new sensations during your stay here,” Jane
told my boyfriend. She whisked her crop very lightly across his bare
fanny.
“Some I’m sure I could do without,” Nick told her.
“It is not for a slave to choose. It’s for the slave’s master
to choose,” Jane told him.
“This way. The stable is down this hall,” Rob told me at the
top of the stairs.
“The stable?” I cried. I clapped a hand to my naked breasts.
“I thought we were going to bed!”
Rob laughed. “We nicknamed our guest bedroom the stable,” he
said. “You’ll see why in a minute.”
And I did. It was a large room, down at the end of their hall,
with a big, sumptuous bed in it. But there the resemblance with a guest
room you’d see in any other home ended. This bed had a long,
black-railed headboard and baseboard at either end. It was high up off
the floor, necessitating a three-step wooden stairs to mount it. There
were clasps where leashes, like those Nick and I wore, could be hung.
On a bedside table stood a busy array of phials, condoms, tubes of oil
and jars of ointment. On another table, on the opposite side of the
bed, stood a collection of rare and exotic bottled liqueurs, plus
glasses. Above the bed, hanging like a threat, was a whip. It was
long. It had many tails. They’d all been carefully looped round the
nail from which the whip hung.
Mirrors were spaced round the bed, suspended on the walls. I
saw myself at once, several times over. My bare breasts, stiff
nippled. My flat tummy, my nakedly displayed bush. My legs, my
stockinged, shackled feet. I stared at the collar round my throat. I
moved. The bell on my collar tinkled.
Rob, holding me by my leash, entered the room with me. He was
tall. His shoulders were broad. His chest was hairy. His stomach was
like a washboard and his cock stuck up like a mule’s. His balls swung
easily between his thighs. Nick entered behind him. His penis was
long, thick, excited. Jane entered with Nick, holding him by the leash
fixed to his throat. We were quite a pair of couples. Two of us
masters, two slaves. I shivered, looking at my captive self. Had I
really let myself in for this? What would happen to me, all shackled,
with my sex freely moistened, my tummy warm, my bosoms so ripely
offered? And what about that whip on the wall? Was it just a
decoration? Or was it applied to ‘guests’ of Jane and Rob when they met
with their hosts’ displeasure?
“Let’s get in bed,” Jane said. “There’s drinks there, within
reach, on the table. Did you put a shower curtain under the sheet,
dear?” she asked Rob.
“Always,” Rob answered.
“Good,” Jane said. “You two will like doing this,” she said to
myself and Nick. “Its rather impolite, I suppose, peeing in a bed
you’re sharing with others. But it does make for a complete feeling of
freedom, afterward, once you get over your embarrassment at doing it.”
Rob pulled me forward by my leash. He led me to the bed’s
steps. I mounted them, slowly, due to the chains round my feet. My
bottom wiggled behind me, invitingly. I tried to keep it from swaying
but I was nervous. It seemed to swing with a life of its own. I felt
the cheeks touching, the tightness of my crack between. Rob had already
touched my rosette, downstairs, and I could feel his eyes drilling
between my cheeks as he watched me mount up.
I reached the top of the bed. I knelt upon it. My slit showed
behind me. Someone whistled. Suddenly, I gave a salacious waggle to my
ass. “Oh, that whip looks so big!” I cried. I knew it would tease, and
perhaps get me in trouble, but I couldn’t help it. I had two very randy
men behind me. The thought of Rob and Nick staring at my ass made me
feel voluptous. I was a Siren, who would dash both men’s hard cocks to
pieces within my soft dell.
“My, she’s a tease,” I heard Jane say. I noted a bit of
jealousy in her voice. She swished her crop. I felt it zing past my
naked ass, catching only air. I shivered and wiggled my bottom again.
Had she tried to strike me? The thought of teasing her husband, and
incurring her wrath, made me feel decadant. I put my face down to the
bed, right where I was, and pushed up my bottom.
“Mmmm, I think I’ll go to sleep,” I said. The men, mounting
behind me, would meet my bottom and have to climb over it. Or perhaps
do something else with it. I felt brazen. A girl, free at last from
societal inhibitions, I could play Princess at last. At least, I hoped
so. I wished to be coddled, spoilt. I showed them my bottom and hoped
they liked it as much as I liked showing it. I would make them lose
themselves, just looking at me. Like those girls in those magazines
that guy had. Cherie. Yes. I would be Miss Cherie. Princess Cherie.
WHACK!
“OH!” I cried. Truly surprised, my head bolted up. I clutched
at my ass. It felt as if a hot brand had suddenly been placed across
it. But there was nothing there now, just my naked seat. Jane’s crop
had struck it and bounced away. The imprint of it remained. “Ohhh, why
did you do that?” I whined. “I’m sleepy.” I put my face down on the
bed again, perhaps inviting more strokes. But I kept my hands firmly
clapped to my ass.
“How darling she looks. See how she moves it about,” Jane
observed. I realized she was talking about me. I tried to still the
movement of my hips but found I couldn’t. My seat hurt too much, from
being struck with her crop. “Take away your hands, dear. Let us see
the working of your cheeks as you move it,” Jane suggested. How
obscene, I thought. I should not wish for my bare bottom to be lurid
entertainment. Not like that!
“No,” I said. My face, pressed to the coverlet of the bed,
slightly distorted my voice. It made me sound younger than I was, like
a sleepy, recalcitrant child.
“Perhaps in a little while,” Rob said. I heard the steps
creak. I felt someone mount the bed behind me. Hands seized my hips.
Calloused hands. I felt an indriving between my bottom cheeks. I
gasped, loudly.
There was a grunt. Pressure. Upon my rosette. I put a finger
to my lips and big upon it. Hard.
The pressure against my bottomhole was harder. It urged.
“Rob, you don’t even have a condom on! You’re not lubricated,”
Jane admonished her husband.
“I don’t care,” Rob replied. His voice was gruff. I tried to
rise and he shoved me down, hard, upon the bed. He seized both my hips
with his big hands and yanked my bottom up toward him. My cheeks
splayed apart, widened by his thick cock. I felt an even greater
pressure upon my anus and suddenly he had forced my sphincter.
The head of his cock lodged in me. I let out a shrill scream.
He was big! There was a thump on the bed and I looked up to see Nick,
my sometime boyfriend, with his own big cock bobbing freely before my
face.
“Sorry to intrude like this,” Rob said in a gruff, half-joking
voice to Nick.
“It’s okay. We’re not married or anything,” Nick answered.
“I’m doing her mouth,” he said. He lifted my chin. I tried to keep my
lips compressed. I didn’t like being used in this way, without
coddling. Yet Nick’s fingers prised my jaws open. He stuffed himself
in. I gagged. I heard Rob and Nick laugh.
“Oh, you men will ruin everything!” Jane said, somewhere behind
me.
DING DONG!
“What th-?” I heard Rob say. The sound of the doorbell
surprised Nick. His cock drew back a little. I managed to lift my
face. I got his penis out of my mouth. It hung wetly between his legs,
near my lips. I took a deep breath. It felt good to be free of it. I
could breathe again. Yet, gazing at it, I found it a spectacular
sight. I kissed it, lightly.
“Well I can’t just--!” Rob groused behind me.
“You don’t expect *me* to, do you?” Jane asked.
“Just fucking ignore it,” Rob said. I felt my bottom eased off
his prick. There was a pop, as of a balloon being drawn off a helium
inflation tube. In this case, it was Rob’s dick, and I was being taken
off it. My bottomhole, widened on his cock, felt empty after he pulled
himself free of me. I shoved my hips back. I wanted. Despite his
thickness, his rudeness, I wanted him, now that I’d come so close to
having him.
“It might be little Lisa,” Jane said to Rob. “You know her
parents drop her off sometimes, when they have a fight. We can’t just
leave her outside. It’s raining, for God’s sake!”
I heard Rob begin to descend the bed’s steps. He dismounted
them, as quickly as he’d come up them a minute earlier. My bottom
longed for his return. My cunt was wet.
Nick sat open legged on the bed. His dick stood up straight.
It sparkled with my saliva. Yet I paused, as he did, wondering what our
hosts were up to. Still crouching on the bed, I turned, gazed behind
me. I saw my bare bottom reflected in a mirror. It seemed silly,
mooning myself like that. In front of my reflection stood Rob. His
cock was hard and the knob of his penis showed moisture, from his precum
and the excitement of my bottomhole.
DING DONG!
“Get it. She’ll catch cold,” Joan said. Her husband balked.
“I’m not going downstairs naked,” Joan said.
“Well, what do you think I’m doing, wearing a suit and tie?”
Rob asked. His hard-on stood out painfully in front of him.
“Just get a bath robe or something,” Joan said. “You’re the
man of the house. I’ll see to our guests.” She tapped his bottom with
her crop. “Get going. You’re older than me too, by more than a
decade. I’m practically a child. I’m only 19.”
“Thanks a fucking lot,” Rob said. “Should I stop off at the
bathroom and jerk myself off first?”
“No,” Joan said. “Of course not.”
“Well I’ve got a fucking hard on that’s a mile long!” Rob
said. “What am I supposed--”
“Men who are flashers put on raincoats and nobody sees theirs,”
Joan said.
“Men who are flashers don’t have big ones like I do, I’ll bet,”
Rob countered.
“Move your bare ass, sir. Please?” Joan said. She gave him an
innocent, wide-eyed look. It won his heart over, unlike her earlier
scoldings.
“Well, alright,” Rob said. “I am older than you.”
DING DONG!
“DAMMIT I’m coming!” Rob swore. “Or I hope not. Damn my cock
bounces around when I’m hard. It’s like walking with a fucking sausage
in front of me.”
“You didn’t mind it earlier,” Jane said.
“I’m going to kill your goddamn relatives,” Rob said over his
shoulder, to his wife, as he left the room. “Including that brat niece
of yours.”
“She’s only eight,” Jane said. “She can’t help having bitchy
parents.”
I listened as Rob got a bath robe from a hallway closet and
tramped downstairs. We all listened, tensely, myself and Nick sitting
on the bed, wearing our shackles, Jane standing beside the bed, holding
her crop.
The door opened. I heard the wind gush in the front door.
“I’m collecting for the nudespaper,” I heard a high-pitched,
female voice say.
“The what?!” Rob asked.
“The nudespaper.”
“We don’t get any nudist’s paper,” Rob answered. I saw Jane
bite her lip, trying not to laugh. It did sound funny.
“The local paper. Mind if I come in? It’s starting to rain
and I don’t wanna get wet!” the female voice said.
“Wait, you can’t just--” Rob protested. The door shut.
“Oh, God,” Jane gasped. I figured the paper girl had been shut
out, but she sensed the girl had, in fact, been shut in. Downstairs.
With Rob.
“If my hair gets wet I’ll have to wash it again,” a female
voice said. “I just washed it before I started my collecting.”
There was a pause.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for my bathrobe to fall open,” I heard
Rob say. I felt myself stiffen. There was obviously a child
downstairs. A girl child. Like me, except younger. Had he
accidentally exposed himself to her?
“You’ve got a very big penis, Mr. Albert,” I heard the female
voice say. There was a tone of admiration in her voice. “I always knew
you had a really big one.”
“Really, I’m sorry,” Rob said. “How do you know my name? I’ve
never even seen you before?”
“I’m your paper girl!” the soft, small voice said. It sounded
happy. “I was collecting for the nudespaper, but you can show me your
thing instead. You’ve still gotta pay me, though. $4.95. And not a
penny less, like my manager says, or I’ll have to make it up myself.
Mind if I see your thing again?”
“No--” Rob said. “Don’t just pull open my bathrobe like that!”
he sounded almost helpless. I felt like giggling. A big, hunky
ex-football player like him, reduced to helplessness by a small child!
“Wow,” the high-pitched voice said. It was full of
admiration. “Mind if I pull on it? Will it squirt me if I do?”
“No, wait-- Yikes! Don’t yank on it. It’s ATTACHED to me!”
Rob said.
“Yeah, just like my cousin’s,” the girl said. “Except yours is
about ten times bigger. I always knew you had the biggest one in the
whole world, Mr. Albert!”
“Please, you’ll make me squirt on you,” Rob begged.
“That’s okay. My cousin squirted on me, once. Just don’t get
any in my hair, okay? It’s really sticky. I just washed my hair. I
don’t want to be out in the rain, because I’ll get it all wet. But my
mom told the babysitter to make me go collecting, rain or no rain,
because I was lazy and didn’t do it all month.”
“That’s very nice but--” Rob answered.
“Of course,” the female voice said, sighing loudly. “Now she’s
in my basement, making out with her boyfriend. They’ll *do* it all
night. And I’m supposed to go collecting, out getting my hair wet.
Well, no way. And I know where my mom is too. At the Shady Oaks
Motel. She has a new boyfriend, you know. The manager of the Shady
Oaks-- his daughter is a friend of mine at school. She tells me
whenever she’s watching T.V. in the lobby of the motel, for her dad?
And she says my mom comes by, and checks in, with her new boyfriends.
She’s been doing it for a whole couple of years. And all that time I
thought my mom was attending PTA meetings. Well, now I know better!”
the girl declared.
“God, this is useless,” Rob said. “Would you stop pulling on
me?”
“I thought you were gonna squirt on me? That would be pretty
cool,” the girl said. “Just not in my hair, okay? I’ll bet I could
catch it all in my mouth, like they do in those movies my dad has, at
his apartment. Mom won’t let me go there anymore, since I found my
dad’s movies.” Another sigh. “I miss my dad. Do you suppose he has a
big one, like you do?”
Jane, inspired by the girl’s words, turned to Nick. She
grabbed hold of his cock.
“Oh, God! How sweet she sounds!” Jane breathed. At once she
popped Nick’s cockhead in her mouth, while at the same time placing a
hand on her snatch and rubbing herself. Nick, inspired, picked her up
off the floor. Jane barely stifled a shriek of surprise. He plopped
her on the bed and shoved his penis more deeply into her mouth. For my
part, seeing her slit so close, I began nuzzling it. It smelled fresh,
feminine. I wasn’t into licking girls but I felt a strange desire to,
anyway. I tongued her slit. Jane jerked her hips in response. I was
shackled, yet she was the one under my command. I tongued her more
deeply. She jerked again, begged me to stop. I found myself enjoying
her responses. I decided to bring her as close to the edge as I could,
then leave her. She would suffer, begging to be fucked, but I’d leave
it to the men to take her. Perhaps they’d hold back, and ‘mistress
jane,’ would become the victim, instead of me. As I licked her I rubbed
my own slit. I dreamed of seeing her tied to the bed, her legs
splayed. She’d be left abed all weekend, while we played around her
house. She’d beg to be brought off but we’d leave her to hunger and
starve. I would have both men to myself. Downstairs, I vaguely
listened as Rob’s conversation with the girl continued.
“Mmmm, this is fun, pulling on you,” the girl told Rob. “Go
ahead, see? I’ve got my mouth open. AAAAAAA. Squirt it right in, Mr.
Albert. I can take all of it. I’ll bet it tastes like toothpase! I
use lots of toothpaste when I brush my teeth. Colgate-- it’s the best
for kids! Even if I am 12, I still like the flavor.”
“Please,” I heard Rob say. Or was it Nick? I wasn’t sure
anymore. I was too lost in Jane’s slit, tonguing her, savoring her
impassioned, hip-jerking responses. I heard her ask me to take my mouth
away. It was a sort of yelp. But, as she spoke it, she pushed her hips
at my face.
The girl downstairs was mesmerized by Rob’s cock. He, for his
part, was already primed, and needed little encouragement to cum.
Somehow he managed not to. Instead, with the paper girl still holding
his dick, he walked in frustration up the stairs, and back into our
bedroom.
“What am I supposed to do with this little trollop?” he asked
Jane. She shrieked. It was muffled, though, for Nick’s penis was
jammed down her throat. She managed to disengage her mouth from Nick’s
cock. She turned to face them.
I lifted my face. I saw shock in Nick’s eyes. In Jane’s,
also. I expected Nick to sperm Jane’s face, his dick looked so hard and
purplish. I had Jane’s vaginal juice smeared on my cheeks. I turned,
and looked over my shoulder at the girl standing with Rob. My breasts
hung pendant and nude. I was crouching. My ass mooned her.
“Rob, why did you bring her in here?” Jane asked.
“Gosh, what’re you doing?” the girl asked. I gazed at her.
She was, indeed, about 12. She had gently swelling hips. Breasts
bulged on her chest, small, but growing big for a girl of her age and
size. She bore a remarkable resemblance to Amber. Her hair was long,
but brunette, whereas Amber’s had been blonde. She had it pulled back
behind her in an efficient pony tail. Her cheeks were rosy. She had
long lashes, bee-stung lips. They looked ripe for sucking, and I saw
she was holding Rob in her small first. His cockhead stuck out one end
of her fist. The remainder of his shaft extruded from the other end,
where, eventually, it met with the hairy bush of his pubic hair, between
his thick legs.
I realized the girl didn’t know about sucking, else she
wouldn’t have been begging Rob to sperm her. She would simply have put
her lips to him. She held him innocently, by his cock, looking rather
like a girl taking a pony from its stable for a ride. Well, in Rob’s
case, not a pony. A stallion. He was big and brawny, and ex-football
player. She was small, just 12, with gently rounded, growing breasts,
and hips poised halfway between childhood and womanhood. Yes, she
looked a lot like Amber. I wondered if she’d prove as adventurous.
“Why don’t you take your clothes off?” I teased. “Then you can
see what we’re doing.” I felt myself blushing. I knew it was
embarrassment at being seen in the nude. Well, let her undress, then,
too. I was only 13. If I could be nude, perhaps she could be also.
She had the body for it.
Challenging the girl to undress, I found, did little to relieve
my embarrassment. For I soon realized that she was not only marvelling
at our nudity. She was also taking note of my collar, and Nick’s, and
the manacles we wore on our legs. When I moved the bell round my neck
jingled. I felt like a jingle-bell.
“Katie, we’re doing something very naughty,” Jane said.
Somehow the young woman had managed to get control of herself, despite
the tongue-lashing I’d given her cunt. She shivered. Her bare bosoms
jiggled heavily on her chest. Her nipples remained erect, ready for
more action. Jane tossed back her long hair. “I think you should go
home, but--” she looked at her husband.
“Rather late now,” Rob said. He seemed to come to his senses
too. He stood with his cock still in the girl’s hand, his own big frame
poised rather nervously between spending and not. The girl,
unhelpfully, began stroking his dick with her fingers.
“You’re very long,” she whispered.
Rob made a decision. He dropped his bath robe off his broad
shoulders. He flexed the muscles of his chest. He gazed down at the
girl.
“You’ve got to either join us, or go home,” Rob said. “Your
choice. And quit yanking on my dick. I don’t want to spend yet.
Especially on you.”
The girl’s face fell. “How about if I get naked?” she asked.
“Okay. Get naked, then,” Rob said.
“Do I have to take off everything?” the girl asked. Relief
showed on Rob’s face as she let go of his cock, to undress.
“Yes. Everything,” Rob replied. “When does your mom get
back?”
“Not ‘til tommorrow,” the girl answered. “Don’t worry, Mr.
Albert. I’ll be good.”
“Actually,” Jane said, picking up the crop she’d dropped upon
the bed. “The point is to be bad.” She grinned at me.
I watched the girl undress. I was said her name to myself.
‘Katie’. A sweet name. I felt young, adventurous. I certainly
couldn’t get in trouble if the paper girl joined us. Neither, I
doubted, could Jane. If anyone got in trouble, it would be the men.
And, while I liked them, I didn’t possess a cock. That’s what would do
her in, in the end. That’s what would cause trouble. A penis.
Something I didn’t have. And I cared about Rob, and Nick, but in the
end they were just friends. If Katie wanted to take a tumble in the
nude, so be it. Let the chips fall where they may, on her and them.
Anyway, I had shackles on my feet, and felt quite embarrassed about it.
Let her join us and perhaps she’d wind up shackled too, and quit looking
at me with such curiousity.
Katie pulled off her clothes. She did it matter-of-factly, as
one preparing for a bath. When she was nude, she reached back and
pulled the ribbon out of her hair, releasing her pony tail.
“Okay, I’m ready!” Katie said enthusiastically. She gazed at
us. Her bosoms stood up perkily on her chest. They were bigger than
tennis balls, and each had an excited nipple at its tip. They were pink
nipples, childish in color, like mine, like Jane’s. None of us were
rosy red-nippled women yet. That would come in later years.
I glanced down between Katie’s legs. Her pubic thatch was
already growing in. Soft, small wisps, decorating her strategically
between her legs, covering up the childish bareness of her muffin. Yes,
she was ready. I flexed my shoulders back, proffering my breasts. I
felt alert, quick-nerved. If she came near me, and made me feel silly
for having shackles on my feet, I’d dart my tongue into her snatch and
make her pay.
“Here, get up on the bed,” Rob said to the girl. He escorted
her up the bed’s wooden steps like a chaperone escorting a girl to her
first dance. Katie mounted them daintily, her boobies bouncing in front
of her, her hips wiggling with childish glee. She was aware of all our
eyes upon her.
“God, what a small, tight ass,” Rob said, gazing at Katie from
behind.
“Do you like my bottom?” Katie asked artlessly. She gave it an
extra wiggle. “I’m going to be a model when I grow up. That’s what my
uncle tells me.”
Katie plopped down on all fours on the bed. “Mmmm, it’s such a
nice, big soft bed,” she said, admiringly. She crawled across it. She
sat down next to Nick. Her legs spread and crossed over each other,
like an Indian’s. Nick was sitting the same way. She gazed between his
legs. She looked with open wonder at his cock.
“Wow, you’re as big as Mr. Albert!” Katie said to Nick.
“Careful,” Nick cautioned, as the girl’s small fingers reached
across his hairy thigh to touch him. “I’m right on the brink of
shooting.”
“Yum!” Katie said. But Nick caught her questing fingers, and
lifted her hand, so that he couldn’t touch his cock. Her hand wiggled
in the air, grasping.
“Katie, you must be very good, now,” Jane told the girl.
“Okay,” Katie agreed. “What are we going to do?”
Jane looked at me, at Nick, at Rob. Then she laughed and
looked back at Kate. “Actually, we’re going to, like I said, do
something very naughty. We’re going to wet the bed.”
“Wet the bed?!” Katie hollared. “I do my best to try *not* to
do that!” She put her free hand, the one Nick wasn’t holding aloft, to
her newly furred mount. She rubbed herself.
“Well, it’s a little different when you’re in bed with us,”
Jane told the girl. “At least, when you’re in this bed with us. We’re
all going to have drinks now, and we’re going to pee in the bed. Okay?”
“Will I get my hair wet?” Katie asked.
“You might,” Jane said. “But you can wash it again,
afterwards.”
“I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Katie said, still rubbing
her muff which, I suspected, was already growing moist, wetting her
pubic hair, if not the hair on her head.
“Don’t worry. I’ll wash your hair for you if it gets all wet
and sticky, okay?” Jane asked. She was clearly eager to get on with it,
and no wonder. Both our men were ready to cum. She didn’t want to lose
their loads to the sheets. It was all a game, and they were to put
themselves to us ere it was over.
Rob reached under the table holding the drinks. He opened it.
I realized it had a small refrigerator sequestered under it. He pulled
out a bucket of ice and thumped it down among the bottles of liquor. He
pulled out several bottles of juice. Pineapple, Orange, Lime. He took
out two bottles of water, and a spritzer bottle of selzer. Then he
reached under the bed, and took out shackles, a collar, and a leash for
Katie. He put them on the bed. Then he hoisted himself up onto the
bed, not bothering with the steps.
Jane attached my leash to a clasp at the head of the bed. I
watched, wide-eyed. I realized I wouldn’t be able to leave the bed
without her permission. My bell round my neck jingled with my every
movement. Rob poured me a drink and told me to drink it down. I
obeyed. It was mostly juice and water.
The same was done to Nick. Jane attached him. Rob poured him
a drink.
Little Katie was next.
“Why do I have to wear big chains on my feet?” Katie asked, her
voice a mixture of curiosity and indignation, as Jane locked her ankles
into manacles.
“So that you can be very good, like a slave; and if you’re bad,
so you can’t run away from your punishement,” Jane explained.
“Oh, I saw a movie about slaves the other night,” Katie said.
“Big men slaves.” She looked at Nick, at his shackled feet. “They
looked sorta like him. Big and strong. It was called Parkus, or
something. They all revolted and lived happily ever after. Or at least
I think they did. It got kinda boring so I switched over to another
movie, The Adventures of Gumby.”
Jane put a collar round the girl’s throat. It had a bell. It
jingled, like mine. She hooked the girl’s leash to a clasp at the head
of the iron-railed bed.
“There,” Jane said. “Give her something non-alchoholic, dear.
We don’t want to get her drunk.”
“Mmmm, I’m thirsty from all my collecting,” Katie said. Rob
handed her a drink. She drank it down lustily, asked for more.
Nick, perhaps to avoid Katie’s questing fingers, rolled over
onto his stomach. He flexed the cheeks of his ass. It was small,
tight. A male ass, with hair in all the places a woman finds
seductive. Jane struck him across his bottom.
“OW!” Nick groaned.
“Roll over,” Jane said. “We want to see your penis. No lying
on your stomach.”
“Damn. You could have just asked me to roll over,” Nick said.
He obeyed, grouchily, putting his bare butt to the sheets and letting
his big cock spring free. It stood up like a flagpole. I wished I had
a ribbon. I would have tied it to his cockhead so he could fly it for
me, like a flag. It would be the flag of Princess Cherie.
“What’s that?” Katie asked. She gazed with wide-eyed wonder at
Jane’s riding crop.
“It’s a riding crop,” Jane said. “It was made for horses, to
help them behave. But you can use it on men too, if you wish. Or bad
little girls who ring their bells too much. Don’t wiggle so much,
darling. Just lie still and let my husband, Mr. Albert, pass you
glassfulls of juice. Would you like some more juice?”
“Sure, and a riding crop too,” Katie answered.
“Perhaps you can play with my riding crop later,” Jane said.
“Or have it played upon you,” I said. Katie didn’t catch my
meaning. Jane frowned slightly.
“Pull up the covers, Bambi. This is to be an elegant party.
We’re to be tucked into bed, just as if we were going to sleep. Katie,
settle down. Quit trying to grab Nick’s cock. You’ll get to have fun
with it soon enough. Rob, dim the lights, please, dear. Nightie-night
everyone. Keep our glasses full, Rob.”
“Yes, dear,” the perennial refrain of the husband, was spoken
in reply by Rob to his wife. Yet she was no shrew. Not yet, anyway.
She was 19, young and lissome and slender, with a long rope of black
hair and adventurous eyes. I liked her, even if she was a bit too fond
of her riding crop. I hoped to be like her when I was 19. Married, to
a wealthy hunk of a husband, with plenty of money to burn on whatever
pleasures I wished. She wore bits of jewelry. Earrings, a ring, a
diamond bangle on one of her wrists. They sparkled as the lights
dimmed, creating a kind of light all their own. We snuggled down under
the sheet and the cover. I made sure everyone got properly covered,
reaching over and pulling up the covers until we were all snugly
installed in the bed. Jane had to warn Katie not to grope for Nick’s
cock under the sheets. Katie obeyed, reluctantly. Then Jane had to
tell her to lie still, and not ring her bell so much, by moving and
squirming about.
“This isn’t a slumber party for little girls, dear,” Jane told
Katie. “It’s a mature, adult party. Now lie still and enjoy your
juice.”
“Okay,” Katie agreed.
We lay abed in the darkened room. Nick and Rob made the covers
stick up, tent-like, where their cocks were, for they were both quite
stiff and not about to lessen until they’d cum. It was strange, I
thought. Neither man seemed able to control his big, long, schlong. It
got hard of its own accord, when he became excited. And, once hard, it
stayed hard, until he’d spurted out his load. There seemed no other
state for it. The poor man had no control over it. I suppose it was
rather like a girls’ nipples. Mine were stiff, atop my boobies, and
Jane’s and Katie’s were too. We were all either stiff nippled, or stiff
cocked. My slit was moist, and I knew Jane’s, and even Katie’s, were
too. The men’s hard cocks oozed pre-cum at their tips. And yet we were
all trying to be polite, discreet, lying in the bed with the lights
dimmed and the covers tucked up around us. I heard ice clink in
glasses. Katie sipped her juice beside me. I sipped my juice-laden
cocktail. Jane asked if I wanted more. I paused, finished my drink,
and passed my glass to her. She passed it to Rob, who refilled it.
At one end of our bed lay Rob, who served us drinks in the
dark. At the other end, perhaps to guard us three females, lay Nick.
Next to Nick was Katie, next to Rob was Jane. In between Jane and
Katie, I lay, snug as a bug at the center of the group. I tried to let
my thoughts drift. It was pleasant, decadent, drinking in bed, knowing
you were supposed to wet the bed. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually
do that. But I dutifully let my glass be refilled, and drank.
“Do you guys have a bathroom?” Katie asked, her voice loud in
the darkened, hushed room.
“Why?” Jane answered. There was a note of merriment in her
voice.
“Because I have to go,” Katie said frankly.
“Has your juice filled up your tummy?” Jane asked.
“Yes. Most definitely,” Katie said. “Where’s your bathroom?
Could you unhook me from the bed? And get this big iron chain off my
feet? I have to go pee.”
“Then you can do that right here,” Jane said.
“What?” Katie asked.
“We’re all going to pee in the bed, darling,” Jane said. “It’s
a pee party, like I told you.”
“You *want* me to pee in the bed?” Katie said. “Oh, but I
can’t do that. I’m a big girl now.”
“Still, you must do it. That’s why you have an iron chain on
your feet, little one. Because you’re a slave girl, like in Spartacus.
You’ll do just as I say, or you’ll feel my riding crop across your
bottom.”
“Ohhhhh!” Katie sighed, a bit remorsefully, I thought, yet with
a touch of excitement, too, at the naughtiness of Jane’s words. She
squirmed under the covers. She grabbed her bottomcheeks. Then,
shifting one hand forward, she put it over her muff. “Really, I do have
to go. Can’t you please unhook me?” Katie asked.
“No, and don’t ask again,” Jane said. “Mistress will unhook
you when she chooses to, not before.”
“Are you my mistress?” Katie asked Jane.
“I have the crop. So that means I am,” Jane said.
“What if I steal the crop?” Katie asked.
“They’d you’d be punished for it,” Jane said. “Now lie still,
and try to hold your pee inside your pretty cuntlips for as long as you
can. Here, dear, let Rob refill your glass with more juice.”
“Oh, but I shall REALLY have to pee then!” Katie whined.
“Good. Hold it as long as you can,” Jane answered, taking the
girl’s glass. I passed it to her and she passed it on to her husband.
“Fill ‘er up, Rob. We’re going to have a wet bed soon, and then we’ll
move on to other erotic delicacies.” Jane reached between my legs. She
stroked her finger within my slit. I let out a surprised shriek. I
snapped my thighs closed. “Open your legs, Bambi,” Jane scolded me. “A
girl’s legs must always be open.” I complied. She touched my slit,
inquired within it. I shivered. In retaliation I put my finger between
her legs and touched hers.
“Yes,” Jane said. She kissed my cheek. “As long as you are
here, your breasts will be free, and naked, without anything to cover
them. And your legs will always be poised in an open position, whether
I permit you to put a skirt round your waist, or not,” she said. “Even
if we go out to a fancy restaurant, as we do with our guests sometimes,
you will not wear any bra, though you might wear something light, like a
blouse, for the sake of modesty. But you will keep your legs apart,
always, never crossing them. Do you understand?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. I shivered with my growing need to pee.
She diddled her finger in my slit, took my glass, had Rob refill it,
then passed it back to me. She watched me drink from it. I held it
with both my hands, so as not to spill it on myself.
“And most of all, when we go out, you will have a sore bottom,”
Jane said. “Imagine that. Sitting at a fine restaurant, everything
elegant, but with your legs properly open, and your bottom uncomfortably
sore. Imagine the waiter taking your order as you try to sit still.
Imagine him wondering, perhaps, why the man has two women with him, Rob
and myself and you. One man, two women. And me sitting quietly, as
your mistress, while you strive to sit still, hopefully succeeding, lest
I take you into the ladies’ room and gag you and crop you some more.”
“Mmmm,” was all I could answer. Her finger in my slit, the
fullness of my bladder, the words she wove, the decadance of being
leashed to the bed, my feet bearing chains, it was all beginning to make
my head spin with erotic sensations. Did I really wish to be here? I
didn’t know. I was excited by the squirming of little Katie beside me,
all young and nude and needing to pee. And by Jane, warmly placed on my
other side, diddling in my slit as I drank yet more juice-laden
cocktails. And, with their penises standing up like sentries, Rob and
Nick, guarding the far sides of the bed. I was captive. I had to pee.
“I can’t wait any longer,” I breathed desperately to Jane, even
as I sipped at the latest drink they’d handed me. Her finger in my slit
wasn’t helping.
“Then we must all go at once,” Jane said. “How warm and dry
our bed feels. How unlike that it will be a minute from now!”
“I have to GO!” Katie said. She squirmed beside me. The bell
hanging round her neck jingled loudly.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold it in myself,” Nick
said.
“Are you going to shoot your wad?” Katie asked eagerly.
“No. I’m going to pee,” Nick said.
“PEE?! I don’t wanna be peed on by a man!” Katie shouted.
“Lie still, dearest. We’re all going to pee in a moment,” Jane
said. “Finger her slit,” she whispered to me.
I did. Katie began giggling.
“Ohhh, don’t!” Katie cried. She spilled her juice on herself.
“Keep your legs open,” I told her. My voice sounded rough,
demanding. Surprisingly, she obeyed. She widened her thighs and let me
drive her crazy, giggling all the while, telling everyone her juice was
spilt all over her face, at the same time. Nick licked her cheeks. I
think she liked that. He told her that her juice, as he licked it from
her face, tasted good.
“I can’t hold my pee anymore!” Katie cried. She kept giggling
as I fingered her muffin.
“Then piss it out,” Jane urged.
“Okay!” Katie said. Then, a moment later, “Oh, I can’t! It
won’t come out! Even though I have to go very badly!”
“Yes, it can,” I urged. I tickled her with light fingers in
her slit.
“Oh, nooooo!” Katie said. And then, suddenly, I felt a wetness
srping to my fingertips.
“She’s peeing!” I cried. A moment later I could feel a wet
spot spreading under my hip.
“Then we must all pee!” Jane cried. “Rob, Nick, do your duty!”
“Ahhhh, God! That feels good!” Nick said, and I sensed he must
be peeing also. I lay back, stilled my hand within Katie’s wetting
slit. I felt Jane’s fingers plying within my own muff.
“Here goes,” I breathed. For a moment nothing came and then,
irritated by Jane’s prying, I let her have it.
PISSSSS! I felt my cuntlips release all my glassfuls of juice.
“Oh, you are wetting!” Jane cried. I felt her fingertips,
within my dell, wetten on my pee. I felt across her tummy, down between
her legs. She pissed on my fingertips.
“Oh, I can feel you. You’re peeing too!” I cried.
“Yes,” Jane said. “We are all peeing now. Are you peeing,
honey?” she asked her husband.
“Uh, here goes,” Rob said.
“Yes! He’s wetting. Oh, god! Such a big cock, and he’s
wetting the bed with it!” Jane said.
“Mmmm,” I breathed. The bed felt quite wet under me now. I
continued to piss, and wished I was next to Nick, so I could feel him
pee. Or, better yet, next to Rob.
“Is Nick peeing?” I asked Katie.
“Yes, he’s peeing and it’s getting the bed all wet!” Katie
said. “I’ll have to wash my hair again if he pees any more. Stop,
you!” she told Nick.
“Not a chance,” Nick answered.
30
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