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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Love Child part 1 of 15 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
In my mind I tried to imagine what it would be like. I lofted
my hands above my head. The chaise lounge stuck up above my head and I
rested them there, along the top, crossed my wrists and pretended they
were tied to it. I dropped my legs down on either side of the chaise
lounge. I arched my pussy forward.
I gazed up at the sun, feeling its warmth, my eyes closed. I'd
just slipped off my bikini bra a moment earlier and my breasts, full and
firm, peaked toward the sun. Only my bikini panties remained to protect
me from Phoebus. Hotly he breathed down on me, but a cool breeze, sent
by some sympathetic goddess, wafted up around me.
In my imagination I left the sun behind. It was nighttime now,
and I was at a party. Kimber was there. She owned the chaise lounge I
was lying on. She'd slipped away, leaving me by myself by her pool, but
in my daydream she was right in front of me.
"So glad you could come," she whispered, her eyes holding that
worldly gleam. I knew what was expected. A butler appeared, holding a
silver tray. A little pile of female underpants were stacked upon it.
Pink ones, yellow ones, frilly ones with little bows. I slipped my
hands beneath my miniskirt. Reluctantly I pulled my own undies down my
legs and added them to the pile. Kimber smiled her approval. She took
me by the arm, led me in to meet the other guests.
An even number of men and women, give or take a few, chatted
amicably in the hotel suite's living room. The women were all young,
with Kimber, at 22, representing about the average. The men ranged
somewhat older in age, starting at the mid-twenties and going as high as
50. I was received warmly by the nearest couple. We spoke a moment,
then Kimber and I moved on, exchanged small talk with other guests in
turn, Kimber graciously introducing me to each of them. I was the
youngest, at 15. My face, angelic, with soft pink cheeks, looked 12.
But there was no doubt my body could hold its own against any of them.
The swell of my breasts was prominent, provocative. My mother said they
were much too big for my age. My legs were sleek and long and seemed to
rise up until they disappeared somewhere in my ribcage. Barbi was not
an unsuitable name for me. People said I looked just like her. My
hips, I suppose, could have been fuller, but my bottom was well-fleshed,
sticking out round and saucily like some apple desiring to be polished.
As Kimber threaded me through the guests I studied their
mouths. Most women wore light shades of lipstick, glossing their pretty
lips. Their teeth were small and dazzlingly white, tongues flitting
within as they spoke. Each one would sup upon my pussy this evening,
Kimber had promised, for this was a Pussy Party, where the most private
part of the body was given prominence. There were no "ass men" or "leg
men" here tonight, but rather those who prized a woman's cunt above all
else. And there were a few women here too who shared a similar
obsession, particularly the older ones. The youngest females present
were all here "to show," as it was artfully said, and had been selected
for the beauty of their dells.
I sensed movement. My eyes popped open, into the glare of the
sun. My hands shot down to my pussy and lay protectively upon it, only
then realizing that I still wore my bikini briefs.
Kimber stood under the shadow of a tree, observed me with a sly
smile. I felt embarrassed, realized my titties were bare and were being
squished upward between my closely drawn arms. My nipples stuck up,
fully erect, excited. A cool breeze caressed them.
"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I think I already
know..." Kimber said, her voice trailing off softly. I flushed, felt
butterflies in my stomach. "Such a sweet little virgin," she said, and
sauntered over to me. She plucked each of my hands off my crotch.
Lightly she stroked my mound, tenuously covered by my panties.
"D-Don't," I breathed, trembled, arms at my sides. My breasts
shivered as I spoke. I replaced my legs on the chaise lounge. They
looked like long sticks of cinnamon stretching down away from me,
straight, with two wiggly sets of toes at the end. Kimber sat down
beside me on the chaise lounge, her hand still caressing my virgin
loins. I should have squeezed my legs tightly together, but I didn't.
I left my thighs parted slightly. My breasts wobbled nakedly on my
chest as I took a breath and exhaled it with a shudder.
"You mustn't expose them to direct sunlight," Kimber said,
looking at my boobs. "Men prefer them white. Put your bra back on."
She urged modesty upon me even as her fingers danced upon my dell.
I fetched my bra from where it lay beside me. I leaned forward
and covered myself with it, reaching behind myself to tie it. Kimber
smoothed my bikini between my loins, watching my face and tits with her
eyes. "I'm having a party tonight," she said. "Another girl your age,
less developed, might be too young for it, but you are full grown enough
to come. You must not deny yourself any longer, Barbi. Your time has
come. You must join the adult world and take your place in it."
"I'm saving myself for marriage," I pouted defiantly, finally
getting my bra back on, straightening the cups with my fingers.
Reluctantly I saw that my mother was right. I would have to buy a new
swimsuit. My chest had outgrown this one, just like the others, filling
the cups to the bursting point. It had happened every summer since my
twelfth birthday. I'd start with a decent bra, but by late summer I'd
find I could not get myself properly covered anymore. My boobies would
bulge out around the desperate cups, showing off much more than the
swimsuit's designer intended. I hoped this didn't go on too much
longer. I'd wind up in the Guiness Book of World Records.
"Tsk! Marriage!" Kimber announced dismissively. She tossed
her head. Her hand still played upon my mound. She gazed into my
eyes. "Even your bra knows you're a big girl now," her gaze seemed to
say.
"I'm still not coming," I said aloud, as if in answer. "And
take your hand off my twat." She lifted her fingers, but placed them
alongside my hip, where my bikini panties were tied. Her other hand
took up a position on the other side of my hip. Lightly she toyed with
the bows which kept my panties tied on. "You wouldn't..." I said. She
tugged at the drawstrings, just a little.
"Will you come to my party?" she asked.
"I would, If my arrival didn't mean I'd have to come again."
"Oh, yes!" Kimber said happily. "All night, in fact. It's
what the party's for, you know. But no one will fuck you, unless you
want them to. Except, of course, with their tongues." She tugged on my
drawstrings a little more. My nipples indented the cups of my bra,
forming tiny tents.
"My mom wouldn't ever let me hang around with you if she knew
about your parties," I threatened. Kimber laughed.
"Helga? I could tell you all sorts of tales about your mother
Helga." A shiver ran up my spine. My parents had been killed in a car
crash when I was eight. Their close friend, Helga, had adopted me. I'd
heard stories, dismissing them out of hand when I was a little girl,
about the parties Helga had invited my parents to. And they hadn't
turned down her invitations. But no, it couldn't be, could it? I could
hardly imagine my mother, naked, bucking, rearing, attended upon by men
in a lavish hotel suite somewhere, others looking on, or fucking, my
father working himself into a new young virgin, maybe, someone like me,
while my mother was pinned down, pinned within her pussy. Yet my mother
(I sometimes called her "my first mother" now), had been very
beautiful. And my father handsome. They would not be easily missed,
easily passed over in a crowd, at a party. They would not go without
invitations to undress, to show their assets, to love and be loved in
turn. But the other kids I played with had pretty moms too, and tall,
strong fathers. Surely they could not all be up to such things, in one
way or another? And Helga herself seemed a very picture of virtue. She
was always getting after me about my clothes, making sure they weren't
too immodest. It bugged me sometimes, but I suppose, walking to school
each day, a girl had to be careful. Not a day went by that, no matter
what I wore, I didn't have men and boys gawking at me. The younger ones
actually drooled. I swear if it wasn't for the security patrol in my
neighborhood, I wouldn't have made it to school a single day this year
without being raped.
And now it looked as if Kimber herself, my best friend, wanted
to rape me. Our eyes clashed. I could have reached up and grabbed her
bikini bra, yanked it down, or grabbed her own panties, but I wanted to
defeat her with my will. It seemed as if Phoebus himself was staring
down, urging her on. I knew she was no lesbian, save, perhaps, for the
pleasure of men. She wanted what was best for me. Though, at times, it
might be hard, might hurt, I knew that, just from talking to the other
girls at school who'd already done it. But none of them had a friend
like Kimberly, so far as I knew. Perhaps that was what had drawn me to
her. She seemed just like me at times, young and careless, and then, at
other times, a woman, sophisticated, even cunning.
Suddenly, with flashing fingers, she slipped the ties of my
panties. I gasped. "No," I said. My panties lay across me, undone,
but still covering my pubis.
"Alright," Kimber said, rising of a sudden to her feet. Her
long golden hair swished against her back. Her tushy, barely encased in
swim briefs, bulged wantonly, temptingly.
"My panties..." I began.
"Tie them up yourself," she said, and strutted off in her high
heels. She crossed her immaculately manicured lawn in silence, the
grass absorbing the sound of her shoes.
***
I tossed and turned that night in bed. I wondered what I'd be
doing now, if I'd accepted Kimberly's invitation. Or, rather, what
would be being done to me. I tried to picture the men at her party. I
knew they must be very handsome. And wealthy. They would relish a
young schoolgirl like me. They would be thoughtful, and kind, and
gentle, but firm, oh so firm. I wanted them to be firm. Somehow I fell
asleep at last. I woke up shrouded in melancholia.
"You look a trifle gloomy today," Kimber teased me when I
stopped by her place after school. I plopped down at her kitchen
table. Four out of five days at school were "uniform day," and this was
one of them. I wore my regulation white blouse and plaid skirt,
kneesocks and clunky saddle shoes. Kimber, as usual, was dressed
ravishingly in the latest fashions. Even her casualwear was
up-to-the-minute fashion plate. She had on a sleeveless denim jacket
and matching miniskirt, with only a flimsy see-through bra beneath the
jacket. It was a jacket, not a vest, for it had a collar. A denim
engineer's cap with a shiny silver buckle perched jauntily on her head.
"I'm still saving myself for marriage," I said sullenly.
"Of course, dear," Kimber replied. She sat down across from me
and began spooning her way into a piece of strawberry cream pie. Her
parties kept her from ever having to watch her weight. "Get some if you
want it," she said.
I rose to slice myself a piece of pie and then wondered if she
meant the pie, or the party? The pie, of course, but...
Sitting across from each other we ate the pies, and I knew
there were men in this world who would have delighted in watching us. I
rimmed my upper lip with my tongue, trying to clear it of whipped cream,
succeeded only in smearing it. Kimber looked up and I saw she had a
cream mustache too.
"So what do you want to do today?" Kimber asked, plucking a fat
strawberry from atop her pie and popping it in her mouth. I watched,
copied her. I copied Kimber in lots of things, I knew. Deep down I
envied her, the bold, casual air she had about sex, the way she could
twist men around her little finger. They did not scare her. More
likely, she scared them.
"There's a park that just opened. I hear they have some cool
rides," I said.
"Okay."
"Can I wear something of yours? I don't want to go in my
schoolgirl clothes."
"It won't matter if you're just going to ride the
merry-go-round."
"Bitch," I said. Kimber laughed, tossing back her head,
deliciously carefree. "You know I'm not going just to ride the
merry-go-round," I scowled.
Kimber said no more. She'd shot me with her bow...again.
***
Dressed in a midriff and jeans I strolled through the park with
Kimberly. I was wearing jeans of hers that had fit her several years
ago, the pants fitting snugly against my immature hips. My tanned
tummy, smooth and bare, caught men's eyes as we passed, my belly button
winking surreptitiously at them. A girl's body sometimes sends signals
she herself would never approve of, but cannot help. My boobies jiggled
within the confines of my half-tee. It was tied off just below them in
a cute bow of white fabric. The shirt was sleeveless. At Kimber's
insistence I wore no bra. I prayed to God I didn't spill anything on my
shirt. Carefully I sipped on a coke.
"Mmm!" Kimber said, pointing, her mouth full of ice cream.
"Not the log ride," I said. Those things always ended in a big
splash. She took my hand anyway, tugged me forward.
"Be bold," she said, winking. And indeed she herself was, with
her see-through bra peeking out between the partly unzipped halves of
her jacket.
We entered the ride and sat down. A big log enclosed us, four
abreast. I sat beside a man who was not unconscious of the dare I was
about to make with the water. He, and his wife beside him, smiled at
me.
"To be young and free," I heard his wife say in Spanish. I was
pretty good in Spanish, even though I went to an American school. Some
of the other kids snubbed Spanish. They were military brats, or the
children of American executives, hating Buenos Aires because it wasn’t
Phoenix, then going back to America two years later and hating Phoenix
because it wasn’t Buenos Aires. I didn’t mind fitting into the local
culture, learning the language. I seemed brighter than the other kids
at school, and my beauty, which some called extraordinary, seemed to
distance me from the other girls. The boys, I knew, only had one thing
on their minds when they sidled up to me. So I mostly ignored them.
What fun is the chase when you’re hounded on all sides, but every dog is
a Beavis or Butthead? Maybe that's why I got on so well with Kimber.
Even here, in Argentina, I had only a desultory relationship with my
schoolmates. Helga and I had lived here for awhile, then in America,
then in Europe, then back here again. This time I'd started school here
at mid-year, when the other kids had already formed into groups and
cliques. So I was alone, mostly, though now I had Helga’s friend
Kimberly to keep me company. And, once, I’d met another friend of
Helga’s, named Julie. They seemed to have shared an adventure together
once, when Kimber and Julie were still teens. Now they led separate
lives, mostly. They all had come into money, claimed it was from
modeling, but had no photo albums or scrapbooks they could show me.
I turned around, gazed behind me. Were any of my schoolmates
back there? Nope. Not even any members of my Beavis and Butthead fan
club, with their ever-present hopeful glances. They were probably at
home, surfing the web, while I prepared to surf my way into a splash at
the bottom of the log ride. Too bad. They would miss out on a treat,
if I lost my bet with the water. Secretly I wished some of my female
rivals were here, seeing me with my ultra-cool female friend Kimberly.
They would be extra jealous if they saw me with her. We were a knockout
together, no questions asked. I liked how men thought I was somehow
older when they saw me with her. It was as if her presence gave them
permission to talk to me. I liked that. Only thing was, what would I
do, if they wanted to do more than talk? I didn’t know. Kimberly would
sometimes go out with one of them, someone we’d met that day, at the
mall or someplace, and I’d lie awake that night, at home, jealous,
wondering what it would have been like if I’d been her, and she me.
That’s why she’d been inviting me to her parties, lately, I knew. To
resolve my doubts. To answer my curiosity. But, God! It was like, “if
you come, you must participate.” I couldn’t just...come. Or, rather, I
couldn’t just “attend.” I couldn’t just be a little girl, a little
squirrel, seeing others do things and then refusing to partake myself.
If I wanted that sort of party, I could stick to church socials and the
lame Beavis meets Airhead high school parties, Kimberly said. No, if I
went to one of Kimberly’s parties, I would have to be part of the
group. I couldn’t just watch, I couldn’t exclude myself, I couldn’t be
half-in and half-out like I was at school. I had to be one of THEM. In
this case, one of the adults. Or, rather, one of the girls “coming out”
into the social world of adults. I glanced at Kimberly. Damn you! So
smooth, so light-hearted, and so self-assured. Were you ever 15,
Kimberly? Were you ever like me, caught between the somnolence of
childhood and the confidence of adulthood?
The log slid up a long, seemingly precarious ramp, giving us a
view of the entire park. Happily Kimber pointed out to me where we'd
bought our Cokes. The fat boy was still there, serving customers,
begging with his eyes for sex as he filled girls’ requests for drinks
and hotdogs. We'd had quite a laugh between ourselves after leaving his
stand. "Minus Ten," we nicknamed him. Poor soul. I doubted he'd ever
get invited to a Pussy Party.
I gazed at the other rides, wondering which one I'd like to go
on next. Kimber seemed to be doing the same. Then I remembered my
blouse. We were almost at the top of the ramp now, and there was a lot
of water down below.
The grinding of the ride's wheels ceased. The wind whipped my
long hair. We were poised atop a great hill made out of steel tracks.
I could see the curlicues of track below, each a thrill of its own, each
with its own special quality. Suddenly in my mind each was a different
party, with its own special perversions, its own unique sexual
satisfactions. My breath caught in my throat. I held it in. My
breasts seemed to bulge within my shirt. The log teetered atop the
hill. A ride of terror and pleasure awaited us. I felt myself on the
precipice, suddenly, between childhood and adulthood. Kimber took my
hand, squeezed it reassuringly. The log lurched forward and we began
our descent.
****
"She was lucky she had long hair," I heard Kimberly laughing.
She was retelling the story of my adventure upon the log ride. Of
course, I'd lost the bet with the water. My blouse had been soaked.
I'd had to spend the next fifteen minutes walking around the park with
my hair carefully placed over my breasts, worrying at every gust of
wind. A few times the wind had won and my pink nipples had been
revealed to passersby, beneath my wet tee. When we went to buy more
Cokes, the wind had bared me right in front of the fat boy. I think he
closed his stand and spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom.
The couple before us laughed gaily. I had finally said "yes."
It was two weeks later, and now I was here, at one of Kimber's parties.
A Pussy Party, no less. At least it wasn’t a “Bottom Party.” I’d heard
men had a predilection for removing their belts at those, and not for
the purpose of dropping their pants.
Uncomfortably I was aware of my nakedness beneath my skirt. It
was short, a mini. Fortunately I didn’t have a hanky that I might
drop. I prayed no one would ask me to bend over. It had been bad
enough, at the door, slipping out of my undies, with everyone watching,
coyly. Then I’d watched other girls come in behind me, women mostly.
They’d slipped out of their panties so demurely, as if at Frederick’s,
finding what they’d tried on had been a little too tight, perhaps. A
little too small even for their tastes. Except this wasn’t a private
dressing room inside Frederick’s. This was a full-fledged party, a
social affair, with men in three-piece suits looking fine and handsome.
What would my mother say if she knew? Helga, my second mother.
Fortunately she was out of town for the weekend. I had no father to
look after me. I gazed at the man standing before me. He would be
about my father's age, I thought, if my dad were still alive. Gently he
appraised me with his eyes. He wanted me in a way my father never had.
"Surely everyone is here by now?" I heard him ask Kimberly.
"Yes, I'm quite certain they are," she replied. She clapped
her hands for everyone's attention. "Let's go into the study," she
said. She led the way then, taking me firmly by the hand. My skirt
flipped up as I walked, hips rolling, flashing the tops of my creamy
thighs at the guests who followed us. I was the prize of the evening,
and I would be first.
I would never have agreed to come to one of Kimber's parties, I
don't think, except that she'd caught me smoking pot three days ago.
I'd only taken it up recently at school, to try to get along better with
the other girls, who'd enticed me into it in the bathroom. Kimber had
gotten quite angry with me when she'd found me smoking it, behind some
bushes by her pool. She'd said that sex was healthy and drugs were
not. If I wanted to grow up I should go to her parties, she said, not
turn into a pothead. She'd said that my body was changing and it was
indeed time for me to grow up, but not into drugs. She'd threatened to
tell my mother unless I decided to take my place in the adult world as I
should, as a young, fertile female.
So now, a roomful of eyes on my barely covered bottom, I stood
hand in hand with Kimberly contemplating the centerpiece of the party.
It was an innocuous wooden stool, placed before a ladder that served to
give access to a wall full of books. But I would not be standing on the
stool, or climbing the ladder to fetch a book. Nor would any of the
other females tonight. Those of us chosen for the task were to each sit
on the stool, in turn, to be eaten.
Kimber placed a soft satin cushion on the stool. A maid, clad
only in an apron that stretched from her neck to her thighs, tied the
cushion to the stool with a length of soft rope. Kimber lifted a pillow
from the floor and set it against the ladder, to protect my back. The
maid tied this off also.
"Undress and sit down, Barbi," Kimber invited.
Self-consciously I wriggled out of my black lycra top, sending my
boobies flying as I pulled it up over my head. The guests gasped
appreciatively at the beauty of my mammaries. I shimmied my skirt down,
letting it pool at my ankles. Then I stepped out of it, wearing only
pumps. I tossed my hair back, attempting an air of casualness. Yet
everyone knew I was a virgin.
"You have a very cute bottom," I heard a girl say behind me.
Her name was Debbi. She was a little older than me and I'd just been
introduced to her a few minutes earlier. We'd seemed fast friends from
the moment our eyes met. She followed me over to the stool and when I
turned to sit down I saw that she'd peeled off her own top. Silently I
thanked her for joining me in at least a partial display of her own
nudity. Her sumptuous breasts bobbed enticingly as she helped me sit
down on the stool. When I was seated I was to stretch my legs out
before me, and put my feet into stirrups mounted on the floor. They
were widely spaced and could be cranked upward, I was told, to loft my
feet as high into the air as anyone might wish. Right now they stood
about a foot off the floor, on slim metal posts.
When my bottom was comfortably poised on the cushion, Debbi
knelt and buckled each of my feet into the stirrups. Kimber, meantime,
surprised me by shedding her party dress. Underneath she wore only a
garter belt and stockings. At her urging I lifted my arms above my
head. She pinned my wrists to a rung of the ladder and the maid tied
them off with a rope.
I wondered idly what a bottle of honey was doing in the
library. Shaped like a teddy bear, it grinned down at me from a shelf
above. Perhaps someone was going to have a crumpet. Kimber picked it
up. My breath caught in my throat. She lowered the squeeze bottle to
my open mouth and lightly squirted. A stream of honey hit my tongue,
lolling unselfconsciously on my lower lip. My mouth opened wider,
surprised. She squirted more vigorously. Someone giggled. Was it me?
More laughter, Kimber laughing now. She made to coat my lips with
honey. Some missed, going too high up, giving me a cleft palate of
honey, then too low, dimpling my chin. Debbi shrugged off her skirt.
Silk panties, too small, traversed her waist, barely covering her
pubis. She slaked her ardent hands on her thighs, seeming to want to
thrust them between, rub herself. Her eyes gleamed at me. She laughed,
intensely, like a child barely able to contain herself with the
apprehension of what must surely happen next.
Giggling, hands tied above me, I tried to clean my mouth with
my tongue. Kimber lowered the squirt bottle to my laughter-shaking
boobs. I watched wide eyed as she deposited a dollop of honey on each
nipple. The clear, sticky amber fluid slowly engulfed each stiff teat
and then dripped a drop onto my thighs. The bottle trailed down my
smooth tummy, anointed my navel, then moved lower to poise itself at my
pussy.
Kimber eyed me, smiled, returned her gaze to my twat. Someone
was going to have a muffin, all right. Mine. With a fresh squeeze she
fired at my clit. I flinched as the stream struck home. I oozed there,
honeyed in more ways than one, suddenly very aroused. Debbi bent low,
clasped her hands about my waist, palmed my bottom firmly. She scooted
my bottom forward on the satin cushion. Then she eased my knees farther
apart. Kimber bent low and really let me have it this time. She coated
my cunt lips all over with the honey. Then she introduced the tip into
my virgin twat. I shuddered. My chastity was slipping away. A
fusillade of honey spurted up me where nothing ever had before. A
tremble passed over Kimber and she seemed to want to fuck me with the
honey bottle's little tip. But the poor bear was just too small, even
for my tight little cunt. She filled me as best she could and then
withdrew. She lifted a hand and brushed back her mane of golden hair, a
picture of pure, decadent sophistication.
"Who will be first?" she asked, turning to the guests. Her
shapely bottom bulged nakedly at me. Naughtily I wondered what it would
be like to shoot honey up her ass.
A young man strode forward, long hair, a modern Jim Morrison in
a tuxedo. My spine tingled as I saw he had a day's growth of beard on
his chin. He would be...bristly. With an eagerness he tried to mask
behind an air of casual disdain he got down between my legs.
Kneeling, I thought. You're kneeling before me, aren't you,
big boy. Roughly he pushed my thighs farther apart. My ankles strained
in their stirrups, held fast. Worshipfully he bent forward, extended
his tongue. I broke into an uncontrollable shudder as he pushed his
stubbly face right between the innermost portions of my thighs. My eyes
closed. I grimaced as I felt a lick. Right where it counted. Right on
my clit.
He was slurping soon, sucking all the honey from my twat with
exemplary vigor. Some little part of me was still sane, could remark
upon this, but most of me had spun suddenly into a whirl of pleasure. I
humped him, moaned, cried louder. Never before had I been eaten! I was
the outcast, the beautiful loner, the girl boys never dared ask out,
though they spurted joyfully at my passing, peering at me from restroom
windows. I saw them again in my mind, a pair of eyes, maybe two pair,
leering at me from some high half-opened window, intended to provide
ventilation to boys pooping in the john. And then, sometimes, a crash!
The bent-over boy, the one providing a platform for his buddies with his
back, got a little too excited at their breathless descriptions of me.
I'd always been excited by their watching, though I didn't let
on. Now I had a whole roomful of eyes staring at me! And this time no
flights of fancy were required to imagine me without my clothes. I had
none! The very thought sent me shivering over the brink.
Next I knew Kimber was patting, stroking my head. I was
gasping. The man was gone, but another approached. "Please," I
mouthed, meaning to say "Please, no more," but the rest didn't come
out.
"Yes dear, here's another one," Kimber said consolingly. An
older man approached. He got right down on his knees and thrust his
face into my beaver. The dam of my hymen strained as he sucked at me
like a vacuum. Was he trying to deflower me with his breath? He was
doing a good job of it. His mouth went to work then, munching merrily
at my virgin cuntlips. He urged more of my natural honey from me.
Kimber bent forward and engaged my open, swooning mouth.
Absently I let her kiss me, French kiss me, licking away all the honey
with long, lingering strokes of her tongue. Then she and Debbi each
captured one of my wobbling breasts and set about cleaning my honeyed
nipples. I shrieked as the mouths plundered my most intimate regions.
Gulping in air I screamed as only a virgin can, tasting the fruits of
adulthood for the very first time. At last, trembling, the girls and
the man left me.
I must have looked a wreck, makeup smeared, long hair tousled,
my breasts and snatch gleaming wet. The partiers seemed not to mind.
They gazed at me approvingly. I was still virgin, still tied, able only
to move my hips, my head, my bosoms. Another came forward, this one a
woman. She was elegant, wearing a long, flowing sequined party gown.
She eased the garment's spaghetti straps off her shoulders. It shimmied
down as she knelt, bringing forth to my gaze a sumptuous bust. She must
have been close to 30, yet her tits stuck out as proudly as any high
school girl's. Nakedly they shook their fulness at me. She took up
position between my thighs. Her dress bunched at her waist, leaving her
own pussy covered.
"No!" I said. I cast my eyes wildly at Kimber. To be eaten by
men was one thing, bad enough, but a woman?! I couldn't. She thrust
her face forward. It was smooth against my thighs. I had no choice.
Long nailed fingertips expertly spread me. My tightness was
stretched open, pulled apart. Was this some gynecological exam for
virgins? Then her tongue, soft, probing. Deep it went, tasting my
hymen, relishing it. Not often, I was sure, did these guests get to
taste such a rare flower. How long would I remain so? Men were
disrobing now, I saw through bleared eyes. Enormous pricks sprung
eagerly into the study's stuffy air. Women cooed at the sight, let
themselves out of their own clothing.
Perhaps virgin boys watched X-rated movies as they dreamed of
their adult futures, but a girl like me never had. I was shocked,
frightened even, as I saw for the first time what grownups did in their
spare time. Nay, not their spare time. This was prime time. All else
was mere resting between bouts in bed. For young adults work was the
resting place, the bedchamber at night the place of labor. The young
men and women around me got down to business, inspiring the older men,
who soon joined them.
Debbi was brushing one of my nipples with her fingertips, idly,
like some child toying with a button. Her other hand stroked her inner
thigh repeatedly. Kimber walked over to her, embraced her from behind.
Debbi offered her lips, tossing her head back over her shoulder. They
kissed, long and luxuriously. Then, holding Debbi from behind, Kimber
glanced over the little brunette's shoulder and pulled open the front of
Debbi's panties. Both of them looked down for a moment at the pretty
thatch inside. They smiled. Kimber took Debbi's hand and placed it
within Debbi's opened panties. The girl shivered thankfully. She began
rubbing herself where it counted.
Sweet, musky odors began assailing my nostrils. Something I'd
only ever smelled with myself before, when I became too urgent in the
middle of the night, alone in my bed at home. The scent of love. And a
new smell, that of the male! I relished it even as I cringed at its
pungency. Not the odor itself, I guess, as much as what it meant.
Thousands of little white fish-tailed men being loosed right here,
within the book-lined walls of this staid study, only feet from my own
womb. There was no going back from this, I knew. That male odor would
draw me in, fish to the fish-men. My hymen was an endangered species.
Kimber stepped away from Debbi. She reached up to a shelf,
drew down another incongruous item for a study. It was a little whip.
For ponies perhaps, or dogs. She reached out and drew down the back of
Debbi's panties so that they bunched under her bottom. Newly exposed, I
saw in a mirror their whiteness. They jiggled slightly, as Debbi
masturbated. A flick of Kimber's wrist then and the whip went sailing
in to strike across the trembling globes. Debbi bit her lip, stifled a
cry. Yet with her free hand she did not try to protect herself. Kimber
rimmed her lips with her tongue and struck the girl again, harder.
"Ooo!" Debbi yelped, choking off her cry in what I guessed was
an attempt to be a good girl under the sting of the lash. Someone had
told me once that girls must strive to keep quiet during a whipping,
hadn't they? Or was I just imagining such things. What did I know
about whippings? My mind trolled through the chatter in the girls'
locker room. Whispered passions, shared amidst giggles, perhaps I'd
overheard it, dismissed it at the time as utter nonsense. Now it came
back to me, full force. And something else also.
Sometime during my half-remembered imaginings the cultured
woman at my snatch had become satiated. A man stood before me now,
presenting his thing boldly. He seemed not to want to kneel. Ah! No!
Could it be? The male seed was drawing nearer. My lips, yes, he wanted
my lips, but not my well spread virgin ones down below.
"Have you ever sucked cock?" he husked. He was young. His
dick, unmilked yet, wiggled frantically. He was certainly no slouch
when it came to looks. Had he saved himself for me? Amidst the moans
all around us he presented himself to me then, eased my teeth apart with
his fingers, pushed the rubicund tip right between my lips. It settled
on my tongue. I tasted precum for the first time. It drooled within
me, pooling in the back of my mouth, running down my throat in light
trickles.
"Suck," he commanded, jutting his chin out. I looked up at
him. My eyes met his. He would brook no disobedience, I knew. My
mouth closed reflexively, fearfully upon him. With his palms he stroked
my blushing cheeks. Still staring up at him I began suctioning his
tool, his very manhood, the soul of his being throbbing wetly in my
all-enclosing orifice. Yet some of him remained without, in the cool
dry air. He wanted that in me too. Pushing forward he made me take
more of his stem. I felt his cockhead bump the back of my throat.
Kimber left off her whipping for a moment to snap a picture of me. I
saw it later, my cheeks bulging, eyes popping, as the big cock was
forced more deeply within, still half at least luridly poised without.
Crisscrossed with big blue veins, the penis arced through the air. It
looked, I thought later, like a dolphin, its ends concealed but its back
arching in the gleaming sunlight. No head, no tail, just the powerful
arching back and belly. Like a dolphin in mid-dive. Except the head of
the cock was banging against the back of my throat.
"More, you can take more," Kimber urged. She smoothed her hand
across my forehead. My cheeks collapsed and I sucked deeply upon the
rod. I choked, gasped, my mouth opening, my breath flowing out around
it. He eased gently back a bit, I thanked him for it with my eyes. But
then he shoved forward again. I would not be let off so easy.
"Practise," Kimber said. She returned to Debbi. The brunette was
weeping and thrusting her bottom out. Both her hands were jammed
between her thighs.
"Yes, the air is nice and cool, isn't it?" Kimber asked her.
"But I am not going to let you feel only the cool air just yet. A few
more strokes are in order for a bad girl who plays with herself, yes
indeed!" And Debbi’s waggling hiney, so desperate to cool its fiery
surface, was assailed yet again by Kimber’s whip.
My lover plumbed my depths, urging himself more and more into
my throat, backing off only when I choked and then driving forward
again. I sucked now out of desperation, hoping against hope to bring
him off and end this suffocating torment. He grinned down at me and
told me I was doing a good job. He ran his fingers through my hair. I,
who had been so haughty, as some of my classmates imagined, an "ice
princess," was now reduced to a gagging wench. I wished I could bring
my hands to bear upon him, but they were tied uselessly above my head.
Only my mouth could bring him off, my novice mouth, which at the park
had slurped dreamily upon a cherry popsicle, imagining. Now I had the
real thing, and it didn't melt, no matter how much you tongued it. But
it might, it SHOULD, at any rate, deflate, if only I knew how.
Something about butterflies surfaced in my subconscious and my tongue
leapt.
The man felt me against the underside of his cock and he
trembled. My first sign of hope. I looked up at him. He seemed to be
arguing with himself. Something told me that if I could get my flitting
tongue under the head of his penis, he would be through. But the head
was back, too far into me. I looked at him with appealing eyes. He
wanted that virgin tongue of mine right where it counted most, now that
I knew how to use it. Giving up on plundering my throat he pulled out
partway, until his cockhead rested upon the tip of my newly trained
tongue.
I didn't waste any time seizing my opportunity. My tongue
titillated his most sensitive spot like a little Amazon in heat. I let
my lips part and heard a rapid, lapping sound. My man shuddered. His
face became haggard. He didn't want to cum and yet he must! Oooh, yes,
baby, you are mine now, totally within my power. I am the cat that
freezes the mouse with its gaze. He grabbed at my hair. His hips
bucked. But he never let himself stray from my wicked tongue. Right
there, under the cockhead, where a man loves it most but can stand it
least.
"Oh, God, no!" he cried. Had he been promised more than just
my mouth...if he could hold it? Too late! My first taste of sperm
burst into my mouth. It felt like Old Faithful was creaming me. His
cum geysered down my throat, hot and sticky. I moved my tongue more
rapidly, delighted at my triumph.
Slowly, slowly then he began to limpen. With a toss of my head
finally I got my mouth free of him. He wanted me to lick him until he
came up again but, though tied, I gave him a sullen, defiant pout.
Kimber intervened then and thanked him. His manhood deflated, he
withdrew, giving me a last hopeful look over his shoulder before being
welcomed back into the crowd by an eager woman.
Kimber smiled at me. She kissed me on the lips. "Well, you've
been a busy girl today." She ran her hands through my hair, combing it
with her fingers. I smacked my lips, amazed at the semen smeared all
over them, the goo coating the inside of my mouth. My tongue wanted to
stick to the roof of my mouth.
"If you like the white stuff, we've been invited to where
there's lots more of it. The Andes, as a matter of fact, to a certain
gentleman's chalet,” Kimber grinned down at me. “Practise on a few more
men tonight and then we'll get some shut eye, and leave in the morning."
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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