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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Labors of Love part 5 of 10 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LABORS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Five
There was no physical exam for this club. It was dangerous
sex, with people he’d never met, save the woman, once before. She’d
been window shopping downtown and he’d approached her, as Ginger
lingered over sneakers, deciding between ones with ponies and ones with
Smurfs.
Ginger hadn’t seen the woman. He was glad she hadn’t. For he
always felt a little concerned with her, as if he had to be careful,
hold back, be responsible. He wanted to be wild. He felt like a
stallion as he emerged from his shower, having bathed quickly, just
enough to get Ginger’s juices off him, and already he was hard again.
He struggled into his pants and loved the feel of his erection and how
difficult it was to zip himself up. It was mid-day and he’d fucked
Ginger all night in her bed and then again this morning, up her cherried
ass, her ass that only one man had taken, and she’d been pleasantly
stoned when he did her, not like today, when she was fresh with the
morning and very much awake.
He wondered about her briefly, hoped she’d gotten the gag off
her. Quickly he shaved and slapped on some aftershave. He got a shirt
on and he hustled to his front door and jammed on his shoes.
Within half an hour he was downtown, by the window where he’d
met the woman. His car was parked in a car garage nearby, owned by the
store, and he hoped he could leave it there all night, for he knew he
wouldn’t be back ‘til morning.
She’d been very firm. No guests, no friends. Just him. He’d
meet others at the place where she took him. He waited by the window
outside the store where he’d seen her, from inside, looking out past the
mannikins as she looked in at them.
Suddenly, for he was almost too late, and he would only have
one chance, as she’d told him quite firmly, she appeared by the curb.
In a Plymouth Prowler, its top down, her blonde hair streaming. She
smiled, said nothing. He got into the car. She pressed a button and
the top to the car slid up and closed over them.
“Here, put this on,” she told him. She handed him a black
cloth.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A blindfold. I can’t let you know where you’re going,” she
said to him. She smiled at him and her face was bright as sunshine but
she had dark lipstick and he saw her nails were colored purple. She
wore a black dress that molded itself to her body and he felt a thrill
of fear go down his back.
“But--” he said.
“Put it on,” she said. “Or I’ll have to let you back out.”
He wanted to reprove her, but he did not. Instead he put on
the blindfold. Her windows were tinted and he hoped they were dark
enough that no one could see his condition but her.
“Now unzip yourself,” she said to him.
“But--?” he said.
She waited. He heard her gunning the engine. He heard a car
horn behind them honk. He gritted his teeth. He reached down, found
his zipper with his fingers. He pulled it open.
“Now pull yourself out,” she said. A car horn sounded behind
them again. He reached into his underpants. He noticed his fingers
were shaking. He was excited, nervous. He split the hole in his
underpants, built in to assist him in urinating. He did not have to go
to the bathroom, however. He reached in and pulled out his dick and it
felt long and hard in his hands, and he relished the aching freedom he
felt as he stabbed it into the air.
“Very good,” she replied. He heard her yell “Fuck You!” and
imagined she might have rolled down her car window and given a finger to
the impatient car behind them. Then she floored her car, and they sped
into the traffic.
She drove him someplace, he did not know where. She let him
out of the car and he had to walk blindfolded, holding her hand, with no
idea where he was, and his penis sticking nude and unprotected out of
his pants.
“Do you have to pee?” she asked him. It had been a fairly long
drive and he admitted that he did. “Fine,” she replied. She let go of
his hand. She took hold of his torso, her fingers long and firm and
loving, and she turned him. He felt leaves hit his penis. He
flinched. He drew back. She moved him forward a little. “Pee,” she
told him. “Pee into the bushes.” And not knowing who might be
watching, or where he was, Chip peed into the foliage that rustled
around his cock. He heard his pee tumble through the leaves and he
leaned forward a little so that his stream was sure to miss his shoes.
He heard a sound of liquid hitting bare earth.
“Very good,” she said when he was done. She waited for him to
drip a little, then turned him and took his hand again. He felt himself
led up steps and then the air changed, became warmer, which he was
grateful for, as she led him inside. He heard a door shut behind him.
She led him through the building, and he still had no idea
where he was, though he guessed it was a house. When they stopped
walking she told him he could remove his blindfold. He did. His eyes
blinked and he saw he was in a room with several other people. Two
males, a few years older than he. Three females, including her, one a
redhead, one a brunette, she the third, tossing back her blonde hair and
beginning to undo her dress. There were laces in front, at the bosom.
She untied them. Her bosoms fell out of her dress and hung in front of
him like ripe gourds. She had lovely big red nipples and he felt and
instant desire to suck them.
The others began undressing. There was a plate with condoms
arranged on it, already open, and it was passed around. The woman who’d
picked him up, whose name he didn’t know yet, took a condom for him from
the plate and passed it to him.
“Here, put this on,” she said. Her eyes were frank and she
didn’t smile at him now. He thrilled at her demeanor and took the
condom from her. He had to struggle to get it over the head of his cock
for his cock was big, almost too big for it, and she watched him, and
her eyes were bright.
“Couldn’t we at least tell each other our names?” the brunette
asked. She was the smallest and she had the smallest breasts also, but
they were lovely and uptilted and they quivered nicely, for she seemed a
little nervous.
“What name would you like to give yourself?” the redhead
asked. She had big plump breasts that were white as powder and her
nipples were large and round and succulent and the tips stood up like
little twin soldiers. Chip marvelled at how the three females all had
different hair, just like the three he’d met in the grope room. But
these were different females, and the blonde seemed much more severe and
the redhead oozed a level of experience that made him shudder, right
down to his balls. Only the brunette seemed naive, like him. The men
gazed at him, putting their condoms on, and he hoped neither of them
were gay. He could fight them, he supposed, for he was as strong as
they were, and perhaps the youngest, but he did not want to concern
himself with fighting, particularly in place where he had no idea where
he was, and when he was hard as a rock and needed to cum so badly.
“Um, I don’t know,” the brunette said. “Call me, well just
call me by my name, Joanie. Is that okay?”
“Have it your way,” the redhead replied. “Call me Rose, okay?
That should get my attention, as long as I can remember what color my
hair is.”
“How about you?” one man asked the other.
“Uh, I don’t care. Just call me by my name, Dick. It should
be easy enough to remember.”
“Well I’m Chip,” Chip said. “Where the fuck are we?”
“Can’t say,” Dick replied. “They blindfolded me.”
“And me too,” Joanie said. Rose smiled at the remaining man.
“I’m Bill,” he said. He extended a hand to Chip. Chip shook
his hand, their cocks dueling close as they shook.
“I’m Dick,” Dick said next to Chip. And Chip shook hands with
Dick, and their cocks touched as they shook, but both men pretended to
ignore it.
“Great game last night, huh?” Dick asked Chip.
“I-- uh, I was busy, didn’t see it,” Chip replied.
A jar of lubricant was passed around. Each man used it to
lather up his erection. The females finished undressing.
“Well, are we ready?” the blonde, who still hadn’t announced
her name, asked.
“Sure,” Chip said.
“Oh, call me Farrah,” the blonde smirked. She slapped her
thighs with her hands. Her large breasts swayed on her chest and Chip
marvelled at their weight, their presence. She had a striking beauty.
She was as tall as Chip and she had the look of an overdeveloped fashion
model, one with long legs but breasts far too large to ever get her
runway work. “Are we ready for the playroom?” she asked.
Joanie giggled. “I don’t think the men could get any readier,”
she said quietly.
“Okay, let’s go then,” Farrah said. She walked to a door.
They followed. Dick let out a whistle at the alluring way Farrah’s bare
bottom swung as she walked.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Bill said to him.
“Anything she does is okay with me,” Dick says.
Chip felt a strange eagerness at being so unsure of his place,
his status. With Ginger he was always the one who had to be
responsible. But here, anything could happen, and he had a dark,
forboding feeling that it would. He prayed he’d survive it intact.
The door swung open. Farrah stepped inside and flicked on a
light. “Come on, folks. Playtime,” Farrah said. Joanie giggled
nervously. Rose gave her a stern look and she contritely bit her lip.
Rose placed a hand on the small of her back and pushed her through the
open door.
Chip, standing behind Joanie, saw her bottomcheeks tighten with
fear the minute she entered the room. He stepped in behind her, Bill
and Dick waiting by the door, then entering behind him and closing it.
Chip’s eyes blinked. He felt his own asscheeks clench and he knew they
had good reason to.
Standing in front of him, with a giant bed beyond them, where
pleasure must surely wait, were three wooden trestles. The bed beyond
was sumptuous with fine linen sheets and a drawn-down coverlet, neatly
folded, with brass bedposts. But the trestles were bare and wooden and
they each had a worn leather cushion tied across the top of them. The
legs of the trestles were scarred where a whip must have missed its
mark, and Chip wondered how many people had been tied over the trestles
and beaten. Lying on the floor in front of the trestles was a
whip. Farrah bent, showing them her lovely white bottom, and picked it
up. She flicked her wrist and it went slicing through the air. It gave
a loud ‘SNAP!’ as it reached its farthest point and then it dropped
snakelike to the floor. Farrah drew it back to herself. Chip watched
as Joanie’s bottom, round and pert and small like she was, shivered in
front of him. Beside each trestle was an I.V. pole, and an enema bag
hung from each one, its tubing neatly coiled, the end of each tube
already gleaming with grease. And below each trestle, forcing anyone
who walked up to it to spread their legs, was a wide-mouthed porcelian
bowl.
“Come, Joanie, don’t make me force you,” Farrah said. She
walked over to the girl and took her hand and Rose pushed her from
behind.
“But I thought we were just going to have sex!” Joanie
blurted. Resolutely, not answering her question, the two women walked
Joanie to the trestle and gently bent her over it. The girl begged not
to be whipped but she was not recalcitrant. Instead, looking like she
could barely stand, for her thin legs shook visibly, she let herself be
tied facedown over the trestle. It was tall for her and she had to
stand a little on tip-toe. The women adjusted her, then Farrah bent and
tied her wrists to the legs of the trestle in front while Rose bound her
legs to the legs in back. Necessarily Joanie had been required to part
her legs as she was put before the trestle and she stood with them in a
wide vee, avoiding the pot at her feet.
“Pee for me, Joanie,” Farrah said to her when she’d finished
tying the girl.
“Oh, I can’t!” Joanie pleaded. “I can’t just pee in front of
everyone!”
“Alright,” Farrah said. “I can help you get over your
inhibitions.” Farrah stepped back and drew the long whip across her
palm. She was slow, deliberate. Joanie begged to be let up. Farrah
said nothing, merely watched her bottom, its anxious quiverings, its
tensings, releasings, then new tensings, like a predator studying a fawn
or a doe it planned to attack. Farrah’s bottom was white, her legs
brown, her torso, bending away, brown also. All of her was tanned but
her bottom, and it shone starkly in the room, like a rising moon on an
autumn night.
“I do have to pee,” Farrah said. She went to the trestle
beside Joanie and picked up a pot and walked back with it some distance
and then set it down on the floor. She crouched down over it. She
spread her pussy lips with her fingers, wearing just her heels, still
holding the whip in her other hand. Chip watched her pee suddenly
spring forth from her dell and it fell splashing into the porcelain pot
and he knew, whatever happened to him, he’d made a wonderful decision
coming here, where he would be with women who were real, no-nonsense
women, not simpering little girls like Ginger.
“There. That should hold me for awhile,” Farrah said when she
was done. She straightened her legs. She didn’t bother to get anything
to wipe herself with. She shook her fingers that had held herself
open. Droplets of pee flew off her fingers. She smiled at Chip. “God,
what a cock you have,” she said. Then she looked at Rose. “Do you have
to pee?” she asked.
“I guess so,” Rose replied. She went and fetched the other
bowl and everyone waited while she relieved herself. When she was done
she walked up to Chip and she ran her fingers through his hairy chest.
“I like you,” she breathed. Chip’s penis bumped against her belly as
she stroked his well-developed chest and Chip felt a deep longing to
plunge himself into the woman.
“I’ll take you to bed,” he offered.
“Not yet,” she breathed. She squealed as she drew away from
him for his cock wiggled thickly as she stepped back. She batted its
lubricated surface once with one of her hands, then smiled at him and
walked over to Farrah. “Don’t keep him waiting too long. He’s awfully
young,” she said.
“I won’t,” Farrah replied. “Just let me whip Joanie, make her
pee, get an enema tube up her. Then I’ll do him and then we’ll all go
to bed.”
Chip blanched. The trestle? For him? He felt his white buns
bunch up behind him and he knew he wouldn’t fight it. Farrah was too
sexy, too alluring. Yet he didn’t want to be humiliated like that in
front of the other men! He glanced at Bill.
“Don’t worry, she won’t whip too hard,” Bill answered. “Keeps
you stiff.”
“I’m already stiff!” Chip protested. And he was.
YEOOOOCH! A female voice suddenly screamed. Joanie’s head
flew up as the whip came smacking down across her bare, lily-white
bottom.
“That’s for not coming the last time we invited you,” Farrah
growled at her in a high-pitched, riot grrrl voice.
“But I had a moooodeling appearance to make!” Joanie cried.
“No excuses!” Farrah said. She whacked the girl again with her
whip and Joanie let out a howl as Chip watched a second red streak form
on the girl’s perfect white bottom.
“Oh, please! That’s enough!” Joanie pleaded.
“Nonsense. We’ve barely started,” Farrah said. “How high can
you count?”
“Very high, to infinity!” Joanie responded. Her hips wriggled
and her bottomcheeks churned and she tried very hard to close her legs
but they were wide apart, tied to the legs of the trestle.
“Then that’s how high we’re going!” Farrah crowed, and let the
whip fly again.
Chip had risen to the rank of Sergeant in the Army. He’d
learned to command, to lead, to control. But there was a burden in
command, and as Farrah, her blonde hair tickling him, tumbling over him
and tickling him, tied him down, over the trestle, he felt the burden of
command being lifted from his shoulders.
She made him dance for her. He couldn’t use his legs. They
were tied. He could only use his ass. And that’s what she wanted to
see, his clenching, wriggling bare buns as she flayed them slowly with
the whip. Chip’s balls danced between his legs as she cracked
the whip smartly across his ass. They looked like twin nuts in a high,
taut sac. They bulged with his seed and Farrah was reminded of coconuts
up high in a tree during a windstorm. His penis delighted her most. It
was full and hard and he had to keep his ass jutted high to prevent
rubbing himself on the trestle’s cushion and cumming. She had warned
him that there was a long night ahead. She expected much of him, and he
would not be spared any of her demands if he came prematurely.
“Augh!” Chip howled. The whip made his ass burn like fire and
he worried that its tail would catch him between his legs. Yet, to keep
his penis from bumping against the trestle, he was forced to stick his
ass as high as he could in the air, thus exposing his balls even more.
They swung forcefully beneath him every time the whip struck. It was as
if they were taunting Farrah, and he prayed she wouldn’t take offense at
them.
When Chip first met Farrah, window shopping, she’d promised him
“Complete sexual freedom. But with your hands tied, of course.” She’d
whispered the words. He’d been shocked. Then her hand had lightly
touched his. Then she’d curled her small finger around his wrist.
And now he was here! And his flaming ass could barely stand
the whip and he could feel his huge, swollen penis jabbing and bouncing
beneath him, and his aching balls, and he knew there was freedom in
this, complete freedom for his loins, though his arms and his legs were
tied.
Dangling beside Chip was the insidious enema tube. He glanced
over at it, wriggling his butt at Farrah, and he wondered how he could
ever manage to take a whole bag of fluid up inside his butt. He had a
Small butt, he told himself! He couldn’t possibly take all that fucking
fluid up inside his buns. But the whip cracked across him again and as
his ass strained and flexed, he knew he would have to.
When he’d been filled and emptied and had his face washed to
take the sweat from his eyes, the women put him to bed. And then they
climbed in. And between the three of them, with the men helping to keep
him under control, they put him to work.
In the grope room, Chip had been master, of a sort, for the
three women there were soft and loving, and he could have thrown them
off him if he wished. Here, he was held down by the men and he had no
options. Farrah and Rose worked him hardest, and they paid no attention
to his wishes. They used him like they might use a horse, riding him to
exhaustion. He was made to ejacultate and then they expected more. And
more. Because they kept him always wrapped in a condom, he never had
the satisfaction of shooting and feeling himself fill them up. Each
ejaculation was somehow a matter of shame, for the women would simply
remove the used condom and pop a new one on him, and expect him to
harden right away again for their pleasure.
When the women’s pleasure was sated, they put little Joanie on
him. She showed him as little mercy as they, for they’d kept her in
reserve, making her wait. Desperately she mounted him and she expected
a good ride, and he was forced to give it to her. She reminded him of
Ginger but he was glad she wasn’t Ginger, for he had worried in the
grope room about Ginger’s bottom. Here, lovely as Joanie might be, he
knew she wasn’t his, and never would be, and so he could fuck her
without any distractions or worries. As soon as he’d come, her lover
took her, and he fucked her up her small as and Chip cared not a whit.
Chip was forced to ride home in Farrah’s Prowler with his ass
on his hands. He tried to sit on just the edges of his hands, but she
took a bumpy road, a road he hadn’t remembered before, and every bump
made his butt jar down against the leather seat of her Prowler and sent
a spasm of pain through his tush.
“OW! OW! OW! I don’t remember this road!” Chip groaned.
“I only take bad boys on this road,” Farrah replied.
“Bad? I must’ve cum ten times in you,” Chip protested.
“Hmmm. Average, in my opinion. I’ll bet a 15-year-old could
do it more,” she said in a soft, speculative voice.
“I-M NOT 15!-!” Chip said as his butt hit the seat three times
in rapid succession.
“I know, you’re just an old dog,” Farrah laughed. “How’s your
dick feel?”
“I don’t think I have one anymore,” Chip replied.
They rolled onto smoother asphalt and he wondered where he was
and eventually the car came to a stop. She pulled off his blindfold.
They were in the center of the city again.
“Here’s your car. Get out, sweetie,” she told him.
“God Damn! Could I have your phone number?” he asked her.
“Nope.” She smiled.
“Please?” Chip asked.
“Sorry, hun. It’s bye-bye time,” she said. She lifted a soft
manicured hand and folded it and gave him a little wave.
Chip grunted, he got himself gamely out of the car, trying not
to brush his ass against the seat. His trousers moved under his bottom,
sending new spasms of pain through him.
“Was I?” Chip asked, standing in the street now, bending in and
looking at her worriedly. He was afraid, despite all his efforts, he
had somehow failed her.
“Darling, you were the best. But they don’t call me the Blonde
Widow for nothing,” she purred. “Bye!” And then she reached across and
pulled the door shut. As he stood looking, she floored the gas petal,
and he was forced to jump back away from the car lest he lose his toes.
The Plymouth darted into the night. In a moment it was gone.
Chip was left standing in an empty street, his ass burning, his dick
someplace inside his pants, his balls loose and achy.
“Hey man, you got a dollar?” a hispanic voice asked him.
“I don’t have a damn fucking thing except a raw ass,” Chip
muttered. He pushed past a ragged figure.
“Just a dollar, man,” the voice whined.
“Beware. I’ve got a radioactive butt,” Chip told him.
“RadioACTIVE, man?” the figure asked.
“Yeah. I was in the Army. Raw ass syndrome.”
“Oh, sorry man,” the voice said, and the figure was gone
without Chip even knowing where it had stolen away to. Easing himself
into his car, he started it, and he drove away.
“I wasn’t able to sit for a WEEK after you fucked my bottom!”
the impish voice said.
“Hmmmm?” Chip looked up from a bowl of cereal. There was a big
pitcher of Kool-Aid sitting on the table. He was at Ginger’s again, but
her parents were out for the day, and she’d invited him over to share a
late breakfast with her.
Ginger plopped a big white pillow on the chair set aside for
herself. She was wearing a simple pink top with no sleeves, like a
man’s sleeveless undershirt. She’d neglected to wear a bra and her
young breasts poked pertly into her shirt. It hugged her, molding
itself over her tits. Chip saw that her nipples were erect beneath the
pink cotton.
Ginger plumped the pillow and then turned her bottom to it.
The chair was high for her, with the pillow on it, and she stood on tip
toe. Then she tried to sit down but immediately she bounced upright
again.
“Oh!” she announced. She was wearing only white panties and
her hands flew to her bottom and rubbed it briskly. “It STILL hurts!”
she told Chip.
“Sorry,” Chip replied. He chewed his cereal. It was Captain
Crunch and it complained loudly as he mashed the cereal in his mouth.
“I promise never to fuck you in your ass again,” he told her.
“Well, you don’t have to be THAT sorry,” Ginger told him.
“Just do it more gently next time. And DON’T leave me lying in my bed
all by myself with my bra tied around my mouth!” She sat down on her
pillow and let out a giant sigh. “Did you know that some boy came by,
and he rang the doorbell? And I had to go downstairs and open the
door. And I still had my bra tied around my mouth!”
“My God!” Chip exploded. “You did WHAT?”
Ginger picked up her spoon and ladled a spoonful of Captain
Crunch into her mouth. “I told you to buy Lucky Charms,” she said with
a pout.
“Wait a minute. You answered the door and you had your bra
tied around your mouth?!” Chip insisted.
“Well, it’s not my fault. You tied it on me,” she said.
“What in God’s name were you wearing?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I just peeked around the door, you know,
just my head, but of course ‘wearing’ my bra, with my panties stuffed in
my mouth.”
“And you talked to that fucking kid like that?” Chip roared.
He couldn’t even eat his cereal now. He threw down his spoon.
Ginger’s small figure grew shivery still under his glare. “Of
course,” she said in a small voice. “Except, you know, I couldn’t say
anything.”
“And then what happened?” Chip demanded.
“I invited him in with my finger and he came inside and he very
NICELY untied my bra for me. And he said I smelled kinda funny.”
“Ohhhh, JEEEEZ!” Chip grimaced. He fell back in his chair.
He wondered why he wasn’t in leg irons already.
“Well, you don’t have to worry,” she said. “Because he’s
always liked me, and I’m not stupid, you know. I told him he could have
sex with me if he wanted to, and he said he did, and I took him
upstairs. And he asked why my bed was all messed up and I told him not
to worry, that I’d been practising just for him!”
“And so then what happened?” Chip asked.
“I had sex with him, silly. It was his first time, of course,”
she said. She stirred her cereal with her spoon and took another
mouthful and looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Good God! You’re a slut!” he said to her.
She giggled.
“You’ll believe anything,” she muttered.
“What? You’ve been pulling my leg?” he asked her.
“When I haven’t been getting it stuffed up my ass,” she said.
She gave him a rueful glance.
“I should put your bare little bottom over my knee right now
and whack it good and hard!” he told her.
“Why? ‘Cause you’re stupid and will believe anything?” she
asked him. “I’m 12, not 3. I think sometimes you think I’m 3 or
something. No girl on this whole block would have anything to do with
that fatso, especially me. Can we ride in your Camaro when we’re done
eating?”
“Sure, if you can stand sitting down,” he said. And he leapt
up and she darted off her chair and he chased her, and somewhere behind
the sofa he caught her, and the next minute her white panties went
flying and he had her all to himself, and her lovely ass, and he spanked
her until she almost threw up her breakfast.”
“That wasn’t very nice,” she said to him later, upstairs, with
her standing at her bathroom mirror. And her bottom was still red from
his hand and it enthralled him to look at her small, clenching cheeks,
and he remembered Joanie. But this wasn’t some other man’s girl, this
was His girl, and he loved her darling little bottom and he wanted to
thrust himself inside her and feel himself pumping hotly within her
tight little cheeks but he knew the time wasn’t right.
“Put something on. I can’t drive you around bare ass naked,”
he said to her.
“But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” she asked. She combed her
soft brown hair and then, as he watched, she put ribbons in it, giving
herself two pigtails.
“I’d like to take you away and make you my little slave and
keep you forever, but I don’t have the money,” he told her.
“I’m not little,” she replied. “Anyways, I have too many
stuffed animals for all of them to fit in your car, so that’s out of the
question.”
“You know, I think we left your panties downstairs,” he said.
She considered. “Go get them,” she told him. “Mom doesn’t
like it when I leave my underwear lying around the house.”
“Okay,” he said. And he went downstairs and by the time he
came back with her panties she was standing in the doorway to her
bedroom, dressed in a frilly white blouse, with a bra underneath, and
tight jeans that molded themselves to her legs and her ass. She was
popping open a Pixie Stick and as he approached her she lofted her head
back and opened her mouth and sprinkled cherry Pixie Stick dust all over
her tongue.
“Sugar’s not good for your teeth,” he told her.
“They’re my teeth,” she replied.
“Well, I’m going to buy you some sugarless candy today and I
expect you to eat it because I’m not going to date Miss Cavity,” he said
to her.
“Don’t worry. I won’t get cavities. I have strong teeth,” she
said.
He took her downstairs and they argued all the way down the
stairs. She said she could eat all the sugar she liked, and he said she
couldn’t, and the argument wasn’t resolved, as most really important
arguments between lovers aren’t.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-END OF 272 EMISSION
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