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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Oct 31 Punished for Pleasure part 1 of 3 (NND)
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ATTENTION ! ! !
This is a privately posted story, for *girls only*. Are you a
girl? O.K., then you can read this. If you’re some pervert, or a
little boy, you *may not* read this. And if you’re a girl under 10,
please don’t read this either, okay? You’re too little.
I guess I need to write this part too: if your name is “holy
joe” and you think you’re going to steal my story and plaster it all
over the Internet, think again. (How many stories of girls have you
stolen, anyway? I know my friend Polly’s story was stolen and she was
SO embarrassed -- she didn’t go out of her house for a whole week.
Also, this story doesn’t have some perverted title. It’s
titled simply, “A Girl’s Diary.” And I should credit a woman teacher
who helped me polish my prose and make it presentable so I could share
my story with a *few girls* on the Internet (privately). (Our newsgroup
is alt.cunt, but the cunt stands for “Cheerleaders’ Understanding and
Nurturing Together.”) (It’s purposely a private newsgroup, so if you
can’t find it, it’s ‘cause you haven’t been given the secret password to
it. Talk to some girls (if you’re a girl) and maybe you can get it, if
you’re old and mature enough.
Now if you really are 10, 11, or 12, please don’t read this
until you’re a teenager, okay? I know a few of you have big sisters who
can access alt.cunt, and you can too, since they can. So, like, do read
it if you really have to (I won’t say you can’t), but *try* not to,
okay? And if you’re under 10, like I said, well, you’re just being
naughty, and you should turn it off right away and go ask your dad to
spank you.
Well, as you maybe can tell, my sensibilities have been sort of
permanently altered by my experience (which I start telling about, in
just a moment). My experience is told here as a warning. But it’s not
entirely critical of guys. I think some women today are too critical of
men. Sometimes maybe we girls need men, to help us better understand
things. Maybe even to force us into things we wouldn’t have tried,
otherwise. (I wouldn’t have believed this before but, after my
experience, I sort of do, a little.)
Well I should stop rambling and being bossy sounding. I’m not
really bossy. In fact I’m probably too meek, that’s what everyone tells
me. But I do have a sense of adventure, despite my meekness. (A little
too much, probably, as you’ll quickly see, reading my story.)
Anyway, try to keep your spirits up while you’re reading this,
okay? I know I shouldn’t have done some of these things, but I did, and
I’m just trying to be honest. Well, goodbye for now...
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUNISHED FOR PLEASURE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
You’ve heard it before, but it bears repeating: “Be careful
what you wish for. You just might get it.” I might have added, “Be
careful what you dream about. It just might come true.” It did for me.
Would you like to know my dream? I created it when I was 10.
Or perhaps, as the feminists say, I had it forced on me. Whatever. My
brother turned on the T.V. and watched a movie about Navy SEALs. I
watched it too. There was a woman in the movie, and she was saved by
them.
That became my dream. In my dream, I’m the president’s
daughter. I’m sleeping one night, in just my negligee (I’m older than
10, in my dream). Suddenly terrorists kidnap me, right out of the White
House!
I’m taken away to a tall tower. It stands on a clifftop, on
one of those Mesa’s, out West. But nobody knows I’m there, because the
tower is very old, built by the Indians, and it is part of a National
Park. Normally the park is open but the Republicans have shut down the
government, to save money or something, and so the National Park is
closed.
There I am, in my tower, tied to a big bed. It has a canopy
over it, which is very fortunate, because there’s a gaping hole in the
roof and the hot sun burns through in the daytime. The terrorists,
being wicked, tear off my negligee to see my nudity. Then, after much
pleading from me, they allow me just a little bikini. I get a deep,
tropical tan (even though I don’t like deep tans), wearing my bikini in
the sweltering sun, protected by just my bed’s thin little canopy. I
cry out for help but, stuck way out in the desert, my cries go unheard.
Vultures circle my tower occasionally, and the terrorists toss them
scraps of meat, joking that when they run out of food, they’ll roast me,
and toss my entrails to the vultures.
I lose all hope. The food supply of the terrorists dwindles to
almost nothing. Every day they tease me about how they’ll rape me
before they kill me, “becuase otherwise a ‘great bod’ would otherwise
just go to waste.’ (I’m a virgin, of course, because even though I’m 18
in my dream, I’m just 10 when I first started having it.)
Every day the terrorists untie me, so I can go fetch them
water. There’s a well at the base of the tower. I’m forced to walk
down a long, circling flight of stairs, and fill buckets, and struggle
back upstairs with ice-cold water from the well. They make me bathe
right there in the bedroom, in front of their leering eyes. They speak
in Iranian, and place bets on what part of my nude body I’ll wash next.
Then, it’s back into bed, with just my bikini to protect me
from the strong sunlight and the terrorists’ piercing eyes.
All hope seems lost. But, quite unknown to me, there is a NAVY
seal team training in the desert. One of them, quite luckily for me,
spots me drawing water from the well. (He’s scanning the horizon with
high powered binoculars, from a concealed base camp some distance
away.) His friends are all bathing in a dry creek bed. Water is very
precious in the desert and so, even though they’ve stripped off all
their clothes, they’re pouring the water only over their cocks, and
balls, and a few other parts of themselves, in order to save water.
Their cocks stiffen involuntarily under the water as they pour it.
“Too bad we can’t go use that well by the tower,” one of them
says.
“Is there a well there?” one of them asks.
“Yes, but you can hardly expect to let tourists see a bunch of
buck-naked SEALS performing their toilette,” one of the men says.
“Hey -- isn’t the park closed?” one of them asks. “I mean,
it’s not supposed to be, but the Republicans shut down the government,
didn’t they?”
Suddenly the man who’s seen me rushes over to his friends.
“Commander!” he shouts to the man in charge. “You wouldn’t belive it --
I’ve just seen the president’s daughter!”
“Holy shit! Wasn’t she -- you mean,” the Commander blurts.
(His cock stiffens further, though I’m ashamed to admit that part of my
dream.)
“Yes, and there was a man with a gun to her back!” the guy with
the binoculars says.
“Come on, men!” the Commander says. He shoulders his rifle.
“Move out at once!” He starts over the dunes, wearing no clothes at
all!”
“Commander -- shouldn’t we dress?” one of the men calls out.
“Move your ASS!” the Commander says. “She could be killed any
minute. We’ve got to get to her NOW! Are you going to tell the
President of the United States: ‘Sorry your daughter died, sir, but I
had to put on my pants.’ ?!”
The men laugh, but under the Commander’s glaring gaze, they
quickly fall silent. They grab their guns, their grenade belts. They
run forward across the sand. They crouch as they run, they follow the
backs of rolling dunes, and when there is nothing but flat sand, they
run as fast as they can. The hot sun burns into their naked feet.
The SEALs reach the tower. It’s silent. They can’t be sure if
they’ve been seen or not, but they know no one has yet tried to stop
them. Some of the SEALs begin scaling the tower. They have to keep
their butts sticking out behind them, for their large cocks stick out in
front of them, and would scrape against the tower’s stone walls, if they
didn’t arch back their hips. They try to talk down their erections, but
it’s no use. They are thinking of me as they climb those walls, and
they know their thoughts, their motivations, are not entirely pure.
The Commander is leading a team of SEALs up the side of the
tower as, down below, other SEALs attempt to force the door at the
tower’s base. They mustn’t make noise, whatever they do, for any sound
could alert the terrorists and result in my instant death.
Suddenly, as the terrorists tie me back into my bed, telling me
they’ll rape me and eat me tommorrow, for breakfast, the SEALs burst
through the tower’s window. I look up, helpless, from my bed. The
terrorists grab their guns, to shoot me, to shoot the SEALs, but the
SEALs, especially their Commander, are too quick for the terrorists. He
grabs two of the terrorists as they try to fire their AK-47s. He hurls
them through the tower’s window. The terrorists, screaming, fall to
earth, their guns blazing. Three SEALs, still climbing the outside of
the tower, are shot, and fall to their deaths.
But I am safe. The SEALs untie me. They apologize for their
immodesty. I tell them it’s okay, I don’t mind. They’re very polite.
Then, sometimes, my dream didn’t just stop at that point.
Looking at the SEALs, I ask them how long they’ve gone without sex.
‘Two weeks,’ they reply, ‘ever since we started our training.’
“Well,” I tell them, sounding very mature. “Daddy’s very
particular about who I date. He only lets me date officers. But
there’s no one here at the moment to say what we can and can’t do, or
whether or not I can reward you.” And so, for their very gallant
behavior, I do a strip-tease for them. Then I ask them to tie me back
into my bed, so I can’t change my mind in mid-stream, rewarding them,
for I’m still a virgin, and might. And so, very reluctantly, with great
gentleness, but pulsing hard between their legs, displaying themselves
to me quite rudely, they tie me down. They even gag me, lest my screams
be heard. Then, one by one, starting with the brave Commander, they
mount me. Only after each of them has had a turn am I released.
When I’m returned to my father, I’m visibly pregnant. Everyone
urges me to have an abortion but I say ‘no, this is my baby, I’m keeping
it.’ And when I have the baby my father allows me to marry the SEAL
Commander. He’s quite angry when I tell him, privately, the whole
story, but since the Commander, being first, is the one who made me
pregnant, I’m permitted to marry him.
Everyone thinks the terrorists made me pregnant, and they pity
me, but just me and a few friends (and my dad) (and a dozen or so SEALs)
know the true story. We keep the true story to ourselves, and just
smile politely when people tell me they feel sorry for me that the
terrorists got me pregnant.
(I know my baby couldn’t grow that fast, but I was 10 when I
first dreamed my dream, and didn’t know how slowly it takes a baby to
grow.)
When my friend Larissa was 14, she met a real-life Navy SEAL.
I was doomed from that moment, I guess. I tried not to get a crush on
him, because he was, after all, her boyfriend. Or, rather, her sort-of
boyfriend, because he was 22. He wasn’t allowed to have an underage
girlfriend. But they’d hang around together at the pool, at the rec
center. He’d sort of show up at the same time she showed up, and
everyone would think it was just a coincidence. But it wasn’t, of
course. Then sometimes he’d disappear, to go on one of his missions.
He could never say where. It would always be quite boring, for me and
Larissa, at the pool, when he was gone. My mom would stop by and give
us sandwiches, and wonder why we looked so morose, and Larissa’s mother
would blame it on “teenage blues.” Summer was long and hot
that year. Larissa and I alternated in working on our tans, and trying
to keep out of the sun, wanting to be just lightly browned, not white,
but not too dark either. Our moms told us we were too diffident. We
should be playing sports, especially if we felt sad. They tried to
enroll us both in Summer Soccer. Me and Larissa had had enough of that,
though, in previous years. That was for little girls, with too much
energy. We were older now. So we lazed by the pool, and when my mom
and Larissa’s both got jobs, we were quite thankful, for we didn’t have
them around to bug us anymore.
The season languished. Someone spray-painted a man’s fence and
he started a petition drive to keep “children” in school year round.
Albany seemed to wilt in the hot afternoons, cooling only after the late
evening sunset. Nick returned from one of his missions. Larissa and I,
finding him at home, threw him an impromptu ‘Welcome Home’ party. Fresh
from the pool, still wearing sunscreen that was painted on our noses and
cheeks, we pretended to strip out of our swimsuits for him. We were
wearing bikinis. We pretended to untie them, first ourselves, then,
mischievously, for each other. Nick watched. He tried to appear
good-natured. It was all good, clean fun, right? We were just girls,
young teens. He was a man. He certainly had no interest in us, not
sexually. But as he watched, Sandy and I saw a prominence rise in the
crotch of his pants.
The next morning I rode my bike over to Nick’s house. To my
surprise, Larissa’s bike was already there. I’d thought to meet Nick
alone; she’d beaten me to him.
I heard laughter. I parked my bike behind a hedge at Nick’s,
in his front yard, next to Larissa’s. We liked parking our bikes there
because they couldn’t be seen from the street. I went around the side
of Nick’s house. I guessed he and Larissa must be sitting on his back
porch. There was a gate. It had a combination lock on it. But I knew
the combination, and I entered it and opened the gate. Usually it
squeaked but today it didn’t. I guess Nick had finally oiled its
hinges.
I was wearing my bikini, ready for another day at the pool. It
was my first summer in a bikini and I liked wearing it. I walked
through a grove of leafy maples along the side of Nick’s house. It was
just a rented house, but I really liked it. The back yard was totally
private, thanks to large, old evergreens that stood guard around its
perimeter. A wooden fence kept out the prying eyes of the small
children who lived in the house behind Nick’s. I was wearing a shirt
over my bikini top. It was a long-sleeved shirt, with a collar. I wore
it to keep myself modest, going to and from the rec center’s pool. My
mom had insisted. But I hadn’t buttoned the shirt. It was knotted
under my cleavage, and pulled open, letting my boobs show, but with my
bikini bra under my shirt, hiding my nipples. My belly was flat and
bare, tanned, with my navel staring invitingly from the center of my
tummy. On my hips I wore a pair of cutoffs.
I heard laughter again. Larissa’s. She sounded happy. I
rounded the corner of Nick’s house. Suddenly, I saw her. She was
sitting at a table. She was eating. I smelled eggs, fried sausages,
coffee. There was a tree that shaded the table. It was a birch tree.
Its limbs stretched over the table, blocking the sun, but the day was
bright and immediately I noticed something strange about her. She had
on a knotted shirt, like I did. And she had on her bikini bra. But
from her tummy down to her tennies, she was bare! She sat bare-bottomed
on a cushion on one of Nick’s chairs, at his backyard table. He sat in
a chair beside her. He wore a polo shirt and long pants. He was
smoking a pipe.
“Hi, Bambi!” Larissa called out. She seemed quite happy.
There was no tablecloth on the table, only placemats, and I couldn’t
help continuing to stare at her legs under the table. They were long,
tanned, and ended at her crotch. There, framed within a small patch of
white skin, her blonde bush nested. The lips of her cunny showed
between her opened legs. She seemed nonplussed by my view of her sex.
I stared, then lifted my eyes to her face. She had a sausage speared on
her fork and she stuck out her tongue and licked it. Nick shifted in
his chair. I saw that his manhood was making a bulge in his trousers.
Sandy brushed back her hair. It was long, brown, highlighted
with streaks of gold from our long days at the pool.
“Come and join us for breakfast, but take off your shorts
first,” Larissa suggested. She bit the end of the sausage that was
stuck on her fork. She chewed, smiling at me.
I felt a mixture of surprise, desire, even competitiveness, all
at once. How could she? What was she up too? We’d never stripped for
Nick, just teased, yesterday. Yet here she was, my best friend, naked
from the belly down, save for her sneakers. She gazed at me
expectantly. Her eyes seemed to challenge me. WAS I as daring as her?
She was 14. I always felt a little inferior to her, because I was only
13. But we were both still virgins. At least, I think she was still a
virgin. She had been, yesterday.
Suddenly, blushing, but not wanting to fall behind her, I
grabbed the front of my shorts. I hesitated. I looked down at my
pants, up, found Nick gazing at me, placidly. He puffed on his pipe,
didn’t smile, didn’t say anything. But I could hear, somewhere, the
words “little girl.” Well, I wasn’t *that* little, just a year younger
than Larissa. If she could take off everything from the waist down, I
could at least shed my shorts. I unbuttoned the front of them. I
dropped them to the grass. I stepped out of them.
“Now the rest,” Larissa giggled.
“I -- Larissa!” I blurted. I was red as a beet in the face, I
think. Nick just kept smoking his pipe, as if it was nothing at all out
of the ordinary to watch a young teen strip out of her clothes.
I felt my bottomcheeks tense. This would be my first time.
Naked, in front of a man, except my father seeing me, when I was
younger, and used to streak through the house naked to piss off my mom.
I didn’t have hair then, where it mattered. But now I did. It was
blonde, a soft furry nest of hair, and I was ashamed to show it to my
friends. Especially Nick.
I bit my lip with my teeth. I stared at Larissa, at Nick, then
down at my flat, sun-browned tummy. I had to lean forward, my breasts
were large and lifted high by my knotted shirt. Then, ceasing to
ponder, I just did it. I pulled on both drawstrings of my panties. I
felt the fabric of the swim panties loosen around my hips. It was how I
undressed at home, in my bedroom, except I was outdoors now, in Nick’s
sun-drenched back yard. The shadows of the encircling trees slanted
unhelpfully across each other, or to the rear, into the neighbor’s
yard. The shadow of Nick’s house was too short to reach me. The birch
branches shaded the table, nothing more.
I let go of my panties. I felt them skitter down my legs.
Nick’s eyes fastened on my bush. His lips, still puffing his pipe,
betrayed a slight smile. I arched my hips forward. “There, now you see
me,” I said in an accusing tone of voice, but shyly. I pressed my hands
hard to my thighs. I had an unbearable urge to cover my pussy.
“Well, now we know you’re a natural blonde,” Nick said.
“Oh, yeah. Like you didn’t know before,” I replied. Then I
looked down at my feet, wistfully. My panties lay there.
“Bring them to me,” Nick commanded. I looked up. I was
viewing him from the side, but I could see, as he turned, that he had
something stuffed into his shirt pocket. I thought it was a
handkerchief, but that was only put in formal shirt pockets, wasn’t it?
I bent, I picked up my panties. Daintily I shook them, as if they might
have gotten a blade of grass in them from lying in the yard. They had
not. I walked over to Nick, leaving my shorts behind.
“Here, sir,” I said tauntingly. I dangled my panties in front
of him, but just out of his reach, I thought. Quick as lightning,
expertly as a Navy SEAL, his arm darted forth and his fingers plucked
the panties from my grasp. He pulled open his shirt pocket. I saw a
string attached to the bit of fabric stuffed there. Panties! I
suddenly realized. It wasn’t a handkerchief, it was Larissa’s panties
that he’d put into his pocket! He deposited mine with hers. He smiled.
“Sit down,” he said.
There was an empty chair. It had a wire-mesh seat but somebody
had helpfully tied a red cushion over the seat. With a meek gulp,
feeling half-ridiculous, half-scared, I pulled the chair out from the
table. Perhaps I thought Nick would rise and seat me, but he didn’t.
Instead he just watched me, smoking his pipe.
I sat down. The cushion felt soft under my bottom. I scooted
myself in towards the table, pulling the chair along with me.
“Are you hungry?” Nick asked.
“No. I had breakfast,” I answered. I looked at Larissa. She
smiled at me. There was a bright, knowing look in her eyes. Suddenly
my mind reeled in shock.
“DID you?” I blurted.
“Did I what?” Larissa replied. Her eyes danced merrily.
I felt angry. “Did you DO it with him?” I asked. My eyes
bulged as I spoke. I was stunned I was having to ask such a question,
of her, of all people!
“She’s too young to fuck, don’t you think?” Nick asked
casually.
“No, I don’t think so, even though we did both promise her mom
to save ourselves ‘till marriage.”
“Ah, your mother was holding you back?” Nick asked, looking at
Larissa.
“She’s the local ‘Say No to Sex,’ representative,” Larissa
said. Her voice had assumed a mocking, sing-song tone.
“DID you?” I asked her again. I stared at her, hoping it would
provoke an answer.
“Mom thinks I slept over at Jacqueline’s house,” Larissa
answered. She bit another piece off the sausage she was holding in
front of her face.
“You haven’t spoken to Jacqueline in two weeks!” I replied.
“My mom doesn’t know that,” Larissa smirked.
“Oh!” I sighed. I leaned back in my chair, hard. I bounced
off it when my half-naked back touched touched the sun-warmed metal. It
was wire mesh, like the seat. “Ow,” I said.
“Sorry. I Forgot to tie a cushion on the back,” Nick said
absently.
“Well at least you remembered the seat,” I said ruefully. “Can
I have my panties back now?” I eyed his shirt pocket. One of my
panties’ drawstrings dangled down from it, like a loose thread.
“I’m taking you both to the Catskills,” Nick told me.
“What?!” I asked. I looked at him, shocked, then at Larissa.
“He and his Navy SEAL friends weren’t on a special mission the
last time he left us,” Larissa told me. “At least, not one for the
government,” she added. She smiled at Nick, mischievously, admiringly.
Then she looked at me again. “Him and his friends built a place, you
know, for guys and gals to get to know each other. Wanna come?” She
bit the sausage she was slowly consuming. She watched me as she chewed
it.
“No,” I answered, but my voice was soft, tentative.
“I’m going this weekend,” Larissa told me. She reached out her
hand, under the table, took Nick’s. She smiled at him. Then she looked
at me again. “For sex,” she said. She seemed to savor the word, as she
spoke it.
I nearly fainted. When I finally recovered, her eyes still
gazing at me, into me, I said, half-heartedly, “Yes?”
“Good, you’re coming too,” Larissa answered. And she took a
big bite of her sausage, as if that settled the matter.
“No, I mean--” Desperately I looked at Nick. “What will we do
there? How will I get away from my mom?” I asked him.
“Get in a fight with her,” Larissa told me, a mouthful of
sausage garbling her words.
“What?” I asked.
“She thinks you and she should both get in fights with your
moms, Friday night,” Nick told me.
“You know, ask something they won’t let us do,” Larissa said
over her mouthful of food. Her voice was laden with conspiratorial
glee. “Then--” she swallowed. “Then we’ll both leave early Saturday
morning, and write notes, and leave them on our beds, saying we’re
running away. Since we’ll really be in Nick’s car, nobody will see us.
We’ll walk over here, of course, while it’s still dark, so we don’t have
to leave our bikes here.”
“That’s--” I paused, considered. “That’s just going to, you
know, get Nick in trouble, won’t it?” I asked. I was looking for an
excuse not to have to say ‘no.’ Surely there must be some logical
obstacle.
“Nonsense,” Larissa said. She was confident now. She put down
the half-eaten sausage. She reached over and took my hand, still
holding Nick’s hand with her other hand. She peered deep into my eyes.
I stared back, inquiringly, innocently, hoping for a reprieve. “Nick’s
always leaving on missions, isn’t he?” Larissa said. “And, in the
meantime, don’t say anything gushy about him. You know, drop a line,
tonight, about how you don’t like him anymore because he’s always having
to go away. Then, when we leave with him, no one will suspect. And
since you’re 13, and I’m 14, it’s not like we’re little girls. That’s
why we’ll leave our notes. So nobody thinks we’ve been kidnapped. And
also,” she lifted her eyes, thinking. “And also! There’s a big rock
concert in Woodstock this weekend. You know, one of those mini-memorial
concerts they like to have each year. We’ll both ask if we can go to
Woodstock. We’ll beg. We’ll plead. And then Saturday morning, we’ll
both leave our Notes,” she said with schoolgirl cunning. “Saying we’re
going to Woodstock. Of course, we won’t be there, but lots of other
people will, and if anyone decides to look for us they’ll go there, and
get lost in the crowd, trying to find us.”
“Hmmm,” I said. I pulled my hand away from hers. “It is a
perfect plan, but I still don’t want to go.”
“This is the only weekend it will work!” Larissa said.
“You were all ready to go before, even when you hadn’t thought
of Woodstock,” I told her.
“I know,” Larissa said. She looked at me frankly. “I want my
cherry popped,” she said. “And Nick’s going to do it for me.”
“OOOOHHH! You’re awful!” I cried. I jumped up from my seat.
“So you didn’t have sex with him last night,” I said to her.
“No, but I sucked him off,” Larissa said.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re being frank about it,” I
replied.
“And that was only after we lay together all night long,”
Larissa said. “I had him between my legs all night. I touched him and
teased him and did things to his penis that we’ve talked about, you
know, even tying my panties around it, and licking it for him when he
peed.” She giggled.
“OH!” I cried.
“Shhhh, the neighbors will hear,” Larissa told me. Nick
casually puffed on his pipe and stared at my bush. I clapped my hand
over my private.
“Give me my panties back!” I insisted, standing at the table,
staring across it at him. I kept my voice low, though, so as not to
alert his neighbors.
“Only give them back if she agrees to cum this weekend,”
Larissa told him. Then she looked at me. “I don’t have the courage to
go by myself,” she said.
“What?! You need me to go along so you can get your cherry
popped?” I asked.
“Yes, silly. If it’s to be done there, at least,” Larissa
answered. She looked over at Nick. Her eyes seemed to inquire, he only
puffed his pipe in response. “Anyway, we’ll both be devirginated
together.” She broke into another set of giggles. “And there will be a
few others there, so if you like, you know, you can do it again, with
somebody else. They’ll all be Navy SEALs, of course.”
“WOMEN Navy SEALs?” I asked, astonished.
“No,” Nick said. “Just men, plus a few girlfriends. I could
invite older girls instead, though, if you both think you’re too young.
You know, college girls. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose, but,
well, I thought I’d ask you two, since you’re both old maids.”
“What?” Larissa said. She shot him an accusing glance. “I’m
not an old maid!”
“Me neither,” I said. And I wriggled my bare hips as I spoke,
not really thinking about it, just doing it, my hands on my hips,
showing off my pussy to him with the salaciousness of an Arabian dancer.
“Well, whatever,” Nick replied. “Come if you want to, but not
if you don’t.”
“Do you PREFER us?” Larissa asked him. Dave looked down at his
pipe.
“Sure,” he said, his voice serious. “I mean, I lost mine at
13. Somebody’s going to do you both soon, whether you realize it yet or
not.”
“That’s not a very good answer, Nick, saying you want to do us
just so you can be first,” Larissa told him.
“Okay,” Nick said. He looked at her, then at me. He eyed my
delta. I clapped my hand over it, so he couldn’t see. He laughed.
“Yes, I prefer both you little brats,” he said. “Even though I
shouldn’t. You’re young, but well developed. Nice, uh, tits,” he said,
looking at mine, then at hers.
“Do you like our PERSONALITIES?” I challenged him, my hands
returning to my hips.
“Yeah, them too,” Nick said. He looked again at my private but
I found the courage somehow not to cover it.
“Well, IF you really like us, then maybe we’ll come with you,”
Larissa told Nick. But it can’t just be like you’re saying now. You
have to prove you really like us. Like, you know, slay a dragon for us,
or something...”
“How am I supposed to slay a fucking dragon?” Nick spluttered.
“This is the 20th Century!”
“Well, I don’t know, buy us something then,” Larissa said.
“That would make you whores,” Nick grinned. “Aren’t you glad I
made you breakfast?”
“Only after I bugged you to,” Larissa said.
“I usually don’t eat breakfast,” Nick answered.
“I saw you stuffing sausages into your mouth while you were
cooking mine,” Larissa told him.
“Well, I eat a FAST breakfast,” Nick replied. “I don’t get out
placemats and sugar and butter and all that, and I especially don’t
arrange it out here on this table.”
“I’m impressed then,” Larissa said.
I sat down in my seat again. I scooted it close to the table.
“Fix me something to eat,” I told Nick.
“I’m almost done,” Larissa told me.
“Never mind. I want to eat too,” I answered. I let her know
by my eyes that I wasn’t going to be argued out of a Nick-served
breakfast, either. It sounded fun.
Nick cooked breakfast for me, inside the house. I sat outdoors
with Larissa. We talked. It sounded scary to go off this weekend, to a
place we didn’t know, to meet people we’d never met, to... I didn’t want
to think the word.
“Nick says we don’t actually have to do it if we don’t want
to,” Larissa told me in a low whisper. “So, see? It will be fun.”
“Hmmm, that makes it a LITTLE easier,” I replied.
For the rest of the week, I was ambivalent. But my sense of
adventure kept tugging at me. A vacation! Away from my mom, my
brother, away from everyone I’d ever been bugged by! It would be a
romantic vacation too, a “sensual” vacation, as Larissa liked to
describe it. So we wrote our notes, at the end of the week, and waited
for the morning.
Larissa and I held hands as we walked the dark streets on
Saturday morning. We walked in the middle of each street, avoiding the
glow of the sidewalk lamps. There was no traffic. We reached Nick’s
house and slipped through the gate along the side of his house, so
nobody would see us go in his front door. He was waiting for us,
inside. He wore baggy shorts, a shirt with a single pocket, over his
chest.
“Hi, Nick!” Larissa and I both chimed, seeing him. He was
sitting in a chair, reading, smoking his pipe. He turned a page in his
book and then looked up.
“You both wore your bikinis under your jeans?” he asked.
Larissa and I had on wide-legged jeans, our tennies, t-shirts. I was
wearing a jacket because the night air felt cold. Larissa had on a pink
pullover sweater.
“Yes,” Larissa answered for us both.
“Here,” Nick said. He tossed two parcels across the room.
They landed at our feet. They were very small, wrapped with shiny blue
paper. They had pink ribbon tied around them. “Take off your clothes.
Put on what’s in the parcels,” Nick said matter-of-factly. Then he
looked down at his book again. He puffed on his pipe.
“Nick!” Larissa whined.
“Don’t complain, just do it,” Nick answered. He did not lift
his eyes from his book.
“What- what’s in them?” I asked. My voice quavered. I bent,
picked up the one closest to me.
“Swimsuits,” Nick said.
“But we’re ALREADY wearing--” Larissa began.
“These are ones I bought, after taking your measurments the
other day,” Nick replied. (I remembered that well. It was after he’d
let us finish breakfast, standing in his bedroom, both Larissa and
myself naked. He’d measured us with a tape measure. It had been sexy,
feeling his hands, seeing his eyes as they absorbed our nudity. Then
he’d taught us both how to suck cock, Larissa for the second time, me
for the first. He didn’t cum. He denied us his sperm, though he’d
spermed Larissa’s mouth, the night before, when they’d spent an
inquisitive night in bed together. After teasing us with his cock, he’d
sent us home. Larissa and I had shared my bed all afternoon,
remembering him, pressed close, whispering. We pretended to be chaste
in all but our words but we both secretly rubbed ourselves as we
talked. We’d both shared an orgasm, finally, late on that hot afternoon
day. It was our first together. We’d touched only ourselves, where it
counted, but our mouths pressed together, breathed hotly. Our bosoms
cushioned us, our nipples poked hard into the softness of each other’s
breasts. Afterwards we both felt quite guilty. Larissa went home,
neither of us spoke of it in the ensuing days.
Larissa picked up her parcel. We opened them. Inside I found
a matchbox. Were we to smoke? What did that have to do with getting
dressed? Reluctantly, I slid open the matchbox. I gasped. There
weren’t stick matches inside, but something made of cloth! What could
it possibly be? I wondered. I tugged at the cloth, gently. The box
produced strings, slim as threads, and, eventually, tiny scraps of
pastel pink material. I lifted the whole thing with one hand, dangled
it from my fingers. Then, gazing at it, it dawned on me that it was a
bikini! But it was much too small.
“Nick! Is this some kind of joke?” Larissa asked our
companion. She held a handful of string and cloth that was bright
yellow.
“No, it isn’t,” Nick answered, still reading his book.
“Mine’s-- mine’s the size of a postage stamp!” I declared. It
was ridiculous, tiny swatches of fabric, a tangle of spaghetti-like
drawstrings. The drawstrings, needing to wrap around the hips, and the
back, and the neck, had obviously had used up more material than the bra
cups or panties themselves. The ‘important’ parts of my bikini seemed
almost an afterthought to the strings, as if some wicked tailor, wishing
to save his thread, had decided to cheat girls out of what they needed
to cover themselves.
“Undress, put them on,” Nick commanded. He looked up from his
book. “And nothing else,” he added.
Oh, it was so wicked! A sensible girl would have simply said
‘no,’ ‘no way Nick,’ and I was about to when I remembered how my mother
had fought me changing from one-pieces to bikinis. She thought bikinis
were sexist. So, foolishly I suppose, I decided to tweak my mom’s
conscience one more time. I wouldn’t just wear the ‘sexist’ bikini
she’d finally let me wear. I’d wear this (though not, certainly, in
public). I’d please Nick, please his silly male desires, and see what
it felt like to be clothed in something so small.
Nick read his book while we undressed. We put our clothes on a
chair. He puffed on his pipe, said nothing, read quietly. I saw the
title of the book he was reading, “Kama Sutra.” I wondered what it was
about, didn’t dare to ask.
Larissa and I tied each other into the swimsuits that Nick had
purchased. It was the only way. The suits were too stringy, too
flimsy, to get them on by oneself. She did me first. Then I ‘dressed’
her. When we were finished we stared at each other. Our nipples were
barely covered by the bikinis’ bra cups. Too call them ‘cups’ would be
a vast compliment, actually. They were thin bits of material. Our
nipples, rising into them, weren’t inhibited at all, and stood up like
thorns, trying to push through the ‘cups’. Down below, our pussy lips
were clearly outlined against the fabric of the ‘panties’ that passed
between our legs. My panties didn’t cover all of my bush. Nor did
Larissa’s. My behind was no better off. It was half-covered,
half-uncovered by my panties. The crack of my bottom could be easily
traced underneath the panties. And, of course, half my bottom, the
upper half, had no covering at all, letting my ass crack display itself
without inhibition.
“Good. We’ll get in my car now,” Nick said. He put his book
down.
“What?!” Larissa blurted. I heard my voice echo hers.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going to the rec center,” Nick
grinned. “It’s too early anyway, for that.” He stood up. He stepped
toward us. He towered over us and we seemed to cringe beneath his
implacable, manly gaze. “You look good in those,” Nick said.
“‘In’ is hardly the word I’d use, Nick,” Larissa said
ruefully. “I think we’re more out of them than in.” I nodded my head
vigorously.
“Noneless, you’ll wear them,” Nick told us. I saw his cock
stemming in his shorts and remembered how beautiful it was.
(Embarrassing to confess, I know, but it was every girl’s dream of what
a cock must look like.) “Now, don’t fight me on this,” he said, staring
down at us. We fought our urge to look at his pants, looked at his
eyes. Finding them hard, demanding, we quickly lowered our eyes again,
to avoid them. But that only caused us to see his cock again, sticking
up into his pants, or his chest, pressing out manfully against his
shirt. We both flushed. We were trapped, like captive birds in a cage,
hemmed in by our own embarrassing desires.
“Being new to this sort of thing, you’ll both need collars,”
Nick told us. Both Larissa and I gasped. But I couldn’t tear my eyes
from his fine, upstanding, hard body. Anxiously I reached for Larissa’s
hand. I found it, she squeezed it. I squeezed back. Nick went to a
writing desk. He opened a drawer. He took out two collars. They were
thick, wide, made of leather. They looked exactly like dog collars. He
strode over to us.
“You first,” he told me. He lifted his hands to my neck.
Without asking my permission, he placed the collar over my throat. He
buckled it, tightly, but not so tight I couldn’t breathe. Then he
turned to Larissa. He did the same to her. When he was finished, he
re-checked each collar’s tightness by running a finger along the top
edge of the collar. He bade us draw breaths, deeply. We did. My bra
cups flew off my nipples as my bosoms rose with my intake of breath.
“Not that deeply,” Nick said. He replaced my bra cups over my nipples.
His fingers brushed them. I felt a hot rush of desire run up from my
toes to my risen nipples. Then, in my panties, I felt a wetness in my
crotch.
“Open your legs,” Nick told Larissa and me. We both parted our
thighs, reluctantly. Butterflies swirled in my belly. “Don’t move,”
Nick said. He reached between my legs. I flinched. He repeated his
order. His fingers pressed hard against my sex. “Wet your panties,” he
told me, finding me already just a little moist. He rubbed the outline
of my pussy lips, not touching me directly but pressing, rather, his
fingertips against the fabric of my bikini, between my legs. At the
same time he began massaging Larissa in her most private place.
“Nick!” Larissa baulked. She tried to back away. A stern word
from him stilled her. “Stay!” he commanded. She and I squeezed hands
tightly. I swooned. Nick rubbed me, searched up between my nether
lips. His fingertips pressed hard into my cunt, drawing in the fabric
of my panties with them. I grabbed onto Larissa for support. But I
kept my legs open, as Nick had ordered me to. I feared closing them.
“Oh, Nick! Stop!” Larissa begged. She leaned against me, just
as I was leaning against her. I feared we would both fall over.
“There, that’s better,” Nick said. He withdrew his hands from
between our legs. My panties felt wet, sinful, where the lips of my
crotch touched the fabric.
“Oh, it can be seen!” Larissa cried. She looked at me, then
down at herself. We had visible wet spots now, where our pussy lips
imprinted the fabric with their soft, gentle curves.
“Good,” Nick said. “Now come along, or we’ll be late for the
boat.”
“What boat?!” Larissa and I asked unhappily. But he said
nothing, only commanded, with his eyes, that we should (must!) follow
him. We went to his garage. He let us into it, then locked the door
behind us. He had a gleaming new Porche. It was bright green. Larissa
and I stared at it, marvelling.
“Oh, but we’ll get the nice leather seats wet!” Larissa
protested, when Nick ushered us up to the car and opened the passenger’s
side door for us.
“A little moisture between your legs isn’t going to ruin my
seats,” Nick answered. He made us both get into the car. There was
room for only one of us. I had to sit on Larissa’s lap. Sexily, she
made me spread my legs. Her hands began playing along the insides of my
thighs.
“Larissa!” I remarked, looking down at her hands. They were
small, slim-fingered. I yearned for her touch yet, even in my bed
together, we’d never done that! Not the private. Her hands caressed
their way up my thighs as Nick put up his garage door, then got into the
driver’s side of his car.
“Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there,” Larissa assured me.
She kissed my earlobe. I shivered. I felt awful, yet incredibly sexy,
in my little swimsuit, wet now between my legs.
Nick backed up the car. It was beginning to grow light
outside. He got out of his car, closed the garage door, locked it with
a padlock. He got back into his car. Larissa and I both looked at him
with wondering eyes.
“You both look like scared little church mice,” Nick laughed.
“We are,” Larissa answered. Then she let her fingernail graze
my crotch.
“Larissa! DON’T!” I said shrilly.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Idle hands do the Devil’s work,” Nick said, laughing, still
looking at us. Then he cast his eyes out onto the road, looking at it
through his rear-view mirror, and he backed down his drive. A moment
later we were gone.
The lake shimmered under the noonday sun. Nick parked under
some trees. They cloaked his car in shadow. Larissa and I spilled out
the side door of his car before he could even come round to fetch us.
We were both trembling. I felt queasy in my stomach. Immediately I
clapped my hand over my pussy, despite the fact that a woman, dressed in
a bikini, was gazing at me. She stood on a house boat, moored at the
lake’s shore. I ran down the grass-covered hill to the small wooden
dock where her boat was tied. Larissa ran with me. It seemed as if we
were racing each other and, indeed, we were. We’d had no rest stops.
It was too risky, Nick had told us, with Larissa and I dressed only in
our skimpy ‘bikinis.’
“Well, hello girls,” the woman smiled to us. She was perhaps
20, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She looked delicately boned, yet
had an althletic presence. Her breasts loomed off her small frame, as
if misplaced there, but her hips, flaring softly, seemed to match her
body size better. She wore a visor on her head, shading her eyes. She
had on tennis shoes, similar to the ones Larissa and I wore.
“May we please use your bathroom?” Larissa gasped to her. She
and I both blushed the instant she said it. I realized my hips were
wriggling uncontrollably. I held my puss for dear life, afraid I’d pee
right there on the dock.
“Yes, of course, girls, if you insist,” the woman answered.
“Have you had a long ride?”
“YES!” Larissa blurted. I heard my voice blurting the same.
“Where IS it?” she asked, a moment later.
“It’s that hole,” the woman said. She pointed at a hole in the
decking near where she stood.
“But -- isn’t there one inside?!” Larissa asked in a voice that
rose in pitch, and in volume, as she spoke.
“‘Fraid not,” the woman answered. “Just take off your panties
and squat. You can use the box of kleenex there to wipe yourself.”
“Oh, GOD!” Larissa gasped. But she raced over to the hole, and
managed to squat down over it before I could. She yanked her panties
unceremoniously down over her knees. One of the drawstrings came apart.
“Hurry!” I shouted. I stood over her, watching, holding my
breath, as she began to pee. We were on a sun deck at the back of the
boat. I saw her pee pass down within the hole and heard it strike the
lake water under the deck. I clenched my bottom cheeks, waiting,
hoping, praying I could last another minute until she was through.
As soon as she was I pushed her. I didn’t wait for her to
wipe.
“Hey!” Larissa cried. She tumbled backward onto the wooden
deck. Her panties hung like a lost promise between her widespread
knees.
“I have to GO!” I shouted. I dropped into a squat. I yanked
down my panties as uncerimoniously as she had. Just in time! My pee
spurted from between the lips of my private. It passed downward, into
the shadowed hole cut in the deck. I heard it rain upon the surface of
the lake.
“They have full bladders,” Nick laughed. He strode on board
the boat.
“And you?” the woman asked.
“Sure,” Nick answered. “I didn’t want to stop, with them in
the car. The tinting on my car windows isn’t dark enough to keep eyes
out if it’s parked. Plus,” he grinned. “They almost certainly would
have darted into the nearest restroom.”
“You can pee after them, then,” the woman answered.
And he did. Larissa and I watched wide-eyed as his long cock
spurted its pee down into the hole. It was mesmerizing. Larissa licked
her lips, remembering licking him when she’d spent the night with him.
I wet mine, with my tongue. I wondered if we’d be asked to practise our
cock sucking skills when he’d finished. I didn’t want to do it, with
the woman watching.
“What’s their names?” the woman asked Nick. Still peeing, he
answered. “Larissa and Bambi,” he said.
“Nice names,” the woman said. “Mine’s Erika,” she told us.
“Pleased to meet you,” Larissa replied. She straightened her
panties on her hips. I pulled the seat of mine out of my ass crack.
“You don’t have to keep those on if you don’t want to,” Erika
told us. “Nobody’s around to see.”
“That’s okay,” Larissa and I answered. We sounded like girls
in a choir, our voices high, matching in pitch.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Erika asked us.
“To a party,” Larissa replied. I felt myself blushing.
“Yes, that’s right,” Erika said. “You won’t be wearing your
panties there, so when you decide not to fool with them anymore, just
give them to me,” she said.
“No, that’s okay,” Larissa answered. “We’ll keep them on for
now.”
“Were the elementary school girls all unavailable?” Erika asked
Nick. He stuffed himself back into his pants, not without difficulty.
“Very funny,” he answered.
“Just wondering,” Erika said, quietly. She walked over to the
rope that held the boat against the dock. She tugged on it, lifting up
the loop of rope that held it to the pier. The rope popped free.
Immediately I felt the boat begin to drift. “Start the engine,” Erika
told Nick.
The boat glided across the lake. It was a mountain lake, high
up amisdst the folds and ravines of the Catskills. Shadows from tall
trees grew outward upon the lake as we drifted across its shimmering
surface. An hour passed. Two hours. The engine of the boat could be
heard puttering faithfully. Larissa and I helped ourselves to a soda
bar inside the house boat. We found ice cream, made ice cream sodas,
then sundaes. Erika sunned herself out back on the deck, where the hole
was for peeing. Larissa and I visited that hole twice more. Nick
steered the boat, when it needed a helpful nudge, which wasn’t often.
Otherwise he smoked his pipe, and gazed out across the lake.
Sipping an ice cream soda (my third, this one made of root beer
with a dash of gin), I gazed through a window of the houseboat at the
shoreline. I lay on my tummy, on a fold-away bed, lounging in the
coolness of the houseboat’s rec room, where the wet bar was. My panties
were hopelessly jammed in my behind again and I made no attempt to
retreive the fabric from my buttcrack. Larissa sat perched on the edge
of the bed. She was watching a television mounted in a cabinet on the
far side of the room. It was a big television, perfect for watching
Bart Simpson. You could see his every mischeivous nuance. Bart was
busy tricking the principal of his school, but I wasn’t watching. I’d
taped the episode last season and watched it already more times than I
could remember. I looked at the trees bordering the lake’s shoreline.
They hedged in my view, stopping my eyes at the water’s edge as
completely as any wall. The trees were thick, luxuriant. They grew
tall up here in the Catskills. Some of them hung out over the water,
making me shiver. They looked like they were yearning to grab me. I
pressed myself into the cool sheets of the bed and was glad I was inside
the houseboat, out of their reach.
As we rounded a bend in the lake, a sheer cliff rose up from
the encircling trees that bordered the lake’s edge. It looked dark and
brooding. It frightened me even more than the trees. Already, the sun
having passed beyond its peak, its face was lost in shadow. We seemed
to be moving toward it, and that worried me. I turned, to talk to
Larissa, and found myself lost for a moment in the Simpsons. When I
looked back through the window the boat had finished its turn and was
sailing toward the cliff, so that I could no longer see it. The boat’s
wheelhouse fronted the rec room, and there was no window between us and
the pilot. I stared at the wall at the front of the rec room. Did I
wish to get up? To go outside and see where we were heading? No, I
told myself, pressing myself deeper into the comfy bed. I would lie
here, and wait. I would be Cleopatra, and let Antony guide me.
Hopefully he would have my best interests at heart.
“Wan another soda?” Larissa asked me. Her voice seemed
slightly drunk. She’d gotten into the liquor more than I had.
“Yes, but not spiked,” I told her.
“Why not?” she asked. “We can do whatever we want here.”
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” I replied. I
handed her my empty soda glass.
“Oooh, I have to pee again,” Larissa announced to me. She
clapped her hand over her puss, rubbed it. The liquor had made her a
little bit silly, like a child.
“Don’t fall off the side of the boat,” I warned her.
“Relax. I know how to swim,” Larissa replied. And I knew she
did, for she’d taken a junior lifesaving course, and been a lifeguard at
the pool earlier in the summer. (Of course, she’d only guarded the baby
pool, but she did know lots more about water survival than I did. I’d
watched her taking the course sometimes. They had to do lots of stuff.
But they also had to get up early, and ‘warm the pool,’ as Larissa
called it, jumping into its freezing early morning waters in their
speedos and bikinis. I preferred to sleep in late. I wasn’t quite as
physical as she sometimes liked to be.)
I waited in the bed for Larissa to perform her toilet and bring
me another soda. It was nice in the bed. I wondered if I was secretly
inviting something. Nick passed by outside, grinned in at me through
the window. He had taken off his shirt. His chest, his biceps, flexed
as he moved. I smiled back at him. My eyes were bedroom eyes,
inviting. But my heart was set more on teasing, I think, than anything
else. He must have known that, for he went round back and lay down next
to Erika, on the sun deck. I was left to myself. I pressed my hips
into the bedding and felt a soft yearning to dispense with my panties.
“Your ass is showing,” Larissa told me. I looked up,
startled. I didn’t know she was back already. Perhaps the minutes had
passed unnoticed. I looked at her. She’d lost her bra. “It’s too
difficult, trying to keep it on,” she said, noticing my eyes. “My boobs
kept popping out of it whenever I walked.”
“I know what you mean,” I said ruefully. Every bounce in
Nick’s car on the road up into the Catskills had jarred my bosoms loose
from their inadequate moorings.
Larissa handed me a fresh soda. “I put lemonade in this one,”
she said. I took it, adjusted the straw. I was about to take a sip
when I re-fixed my gaze on her.
“If you peed in my soda I’ll kill you,” I told her. (My
brother had pulled just such a trick the week before.)
“No,” she giggled. “But that was pretty funny, what your
brother did, handing you ‘fresh lemonade’,” Larissa replied laughingly.
“Thanks for reminding me,” I told her. Boldly I sipped my
soda. It tasted fine. It was Sprite, with lemon sherbert. I looked at
Larissa again. “Don’t spike your punch anymore,” I told her. “Pretty
soon you’ll think everything in the universe is funny.”
“I promise,” Larissa told me. I hoped she was telling the
truth. I didn’t want a friend who was drop-dead drunk. I think she
understood that. I’d be all alone, if she lost her head. And I hadn’t
come along on her little journey to wind up being by myself, accompanied
by a slosh.
I turned back to the vista outside. In the lengthening shadows
of the waning day, the trees looked more threatening than ever. Perhaps
it was just my imagination, but they appeared to want to eat me, to
swallow me up. I shivered. And then, wedging my soda between two bed
pillows, so it wouldn’t fall, I did an incredible thing. I bent the
straw. It was a bendy straw. With it bent, I could still suck on it,
though I moved both my hands down to my waist. I toyed with the
drawstrings of my panties. Then, declining to untie them, I instead
pushed them down. I felt my panties pop out of my ass crack. I pushed
them down until they were off the curve of my behind. I felt good,
exposed like that, watching the trees with their long branches passing
by on the lakeshore. Perhaps I wasn’t bold enough to be topless, like
Larissa, but I could tease just a little more. Who was to say my
miniscule panties hadn’t popped off my rear end by accident? At least
they wouldn’t be wedging themselves into my butt crack anymore.
“Well, here we are,” Erika said at last, poking her head into
the rec room. We’d reached the opposite shore of the lake. Nick was
turning the boat around, so we could disembark off its back. But on
this end of the lake, there was no pier. Just the sheer cliff face of
rock. I’d felt our boat pass into its shadow. It had descended upon us
quite suddenly, like a death shroud. Then we’d passed out of its
shadow, as if dueling with it, too coy to be taken. The sun was angled
behind the peak of the cliff, I guess, letting it throw its shadow
partly onto the water, partly into the dense forest beyond. I was glad
of that. Nick steered the boat to a point along the cliff where we
could still relish the sunlight.
Larissa and I emerged from our rec room hideaway, like virgins
from a convent. Larissa, however, still refused to wear her top. I
left my panties down in back, showing my bottom. But I made sure they
were pulled up tight in front. I didn’t want to show everything. Not
yet, anyway... I looked up at the cliff. We were hard up alongside it,
just out of reach of its shadow. The back of our boat bobbed in the
water, silently, its back end facing along the cliff.
I gazed up at the cliff, wondering what to make of its
implacable surface, so close, with nothing to step down onto. How could
we disembark? Were we in the right spot? I looked at Nick, then at
Erika. She lifted a heavy anchor. It was made of iron, but her slim
arms lifted it somehow, and she threw it with a soft groan over the side
of her boat. It splashed into the lake, trailing a length of rope
behind it. Quickly it sank, mooring the boat to the lakebed, under the
water. I went to the side of the boat and stared into the ripples on
the lake surface where the anchor had disappeared.
“We’ll have to swim from here,” Nick told Larissa and me.
“Dive in, swim down, you’ll see a hole under the water, in the side of
the cliff. It’s only a few yards more once you reach it. Swim into
it. Follow it up. You’ll surface inside an underground cavern.”
“What?” Larissa gasped. I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“We’re going where no one can find us,” Erika smiled. “It’s
meant to be a private party, you know.” Her eyes seemed to challenge
us, as if we might prove to be scared little girls and back out. I
certainly felt like doing just that!
“Would you like to disrobe now, girls?” Erika asked. She
tugged at her own bikini drawstrings, at her waist. The panties rode
low on her waist, showing a few uppermost curls of her bush, but
apparently it was too modest, for where we were going. I felt a tremble
run down my arms and legs and my knees felt weak.
“No,” I heard Larissa say, beside me.
“No,” I repeated.
“Alright, but I shall have to prepare you, then,” Erika said.
“But first, allow me to demonstrate to you how you shall be required to
prepare yourself, if you should ever choose to return.” She saw my eyes
widen, hopefully perhaps, and Larissa’s too. “Yes girls, you are not
being kidnapped,” Erika said. “Do you want to be, hmmm? The party
lasts only the weekend, perhaps a day or two longer. Then you’re going
back home. It’s a party, girls, nothing more.” She smiled. We were so
childish, Larissa and I, having that first real adventure of our lives,
I realized. But I still was determined to keep my panties on. Even if
I hadn’t bothered to pull them back up over my behind, and was letting
it show in all its nude, rounded glory.
Erika lay down on her chaise lounge. It was covered with a
big, white, soft fluffy towel, making her look rather like an angel
lounging in heaven. There was a tube of suntan lotion on the chair,
beside her hips, but she didn’t bother to put any of it on. She was
already well-oiled from her hours of sunning as the boat crossed the
lake. Yet the tube of lotion looked new, as the towel did. She liked
new things, she’d told me, and was always refurbishing her boat and
replacing its items so everything would always be fresh and clean.
Erika smiled at Nick, then at myself, then at Larissa. “This
is somewhat more intrusive than the method of preparation I’ll use on
you,” she assured Larissa and I. “But it does have its pleasures, as I
imagine you’ll see.”
Nick was already bending down as she spoke. He clutched at the
sides of her panties, at the little strings that held them fast. His
eyes were burning. Erika closed hers. Nick paused a moment, determined
to do something, but awed by the lissome figure spread out so
receptively before him. She was gorgeous. She was perfectly shaped,
like a model on a photo shoot that required no clothing. Her long
blonde hair couched her head, softly, where it lay upon the chaise
lounge. Her limbs stretched out, relaxed. Her breasts remained perkily
upstanding despite her prone posture. Her flat tummy sank beneath her
ribs as she drew in a soft, deep breath. Then she exhaled, a perfumed
breath seemingly escaping her lips (for they were lovely lips), and her
breasts, her ribs, her taut belly all rippled, gently, with the the
escaping of her breath. She savored the touch of Nick’s hands upon her
waist, I could tell. She urged her young, long legs into the air. They
rose with a kind of sleepy gracefulness. Her tennis-shoed feet seemed
impossibly well-clad, much too formal for the rest of her attire, for
her bikini was nothing but string, and small, strategic bits of
material. Her brown, sun-kissed limbs, her large, heavy breasts, her
svelte hips all seemed to overpower the little swimsuit, and now,
apparenlty, it was deemed too much, despite its nothingness, to be worn
to the party.
With a sudden savageness, Nick yanked at Erika’s bikini
bottoms. She squealed. Her eyelashes fluttered open. She looked down
at her violated hips and watched, wide-eyed, as Nick drew the swim
panties down her long thighs. She kept them lifted, high in the air, to
assist him. Hurriedly he passed them over her knees, down her slim
calves. When he reached her tennis shoes he let go of them, as if not
needing to trouble himself with their complete removal. Her cunny was
bare, that was all that mattered. He tore down his own shorts. His
cock sprang out, to cries of involuntary alarm from myself and Larissa.
It was huge, like a big fleshy banana, and though we’d seen it earlier,
it was still a shock when it was suddenly released before our eyes.
Nick didn’t bother to step out of his shorts. He shoved them
down his legs, then walked forward. He didn’t walk far. Reaching
Erika’s breasts, he bent, showing us his tight, bare buns. I heard
myself squeal, my voice joining Erika’s. Nick ripped away Erika’s bra.
Her breasts fell out, wobbled, grew at the tips. Her feet kicked
absently in the air, still entangled in her panties.
Like a conquering hero, eager to have his prize, Nick tossed
Erika’s bra unceremoniously across the deck of the boat. He made a
quick two-step, standing in place, with his feet, and managed to get out
of his lowered shorts. Then he returned to Erika’s legs, and gave her
bikini the final denoument by tearing it off her feet. The panties
fluttered to the deck. They were white, like swimwear a virgin might
wear, but they were undone, one drawstring ripped from the panties’
front, useless now, even more useless than they’d been when first made.
Nick grabbed Erika’s still-kicking feet. He did not bother
with her tennis shoes. Instead, to a sharp gasp from her, he opened her
legs. All could be seen, her soft inner thighs, her slit, the soft fuzz
that covered her private, yet left it uncovered, for her labial lips
were quite visible. With a sudden tug, Nick yanked Erika down the
length of her chaise lounge. He stopped when her bottom lay poised at
the foot of the lounge. It didn’t hurt her, being moved in that way.
The towel underneath her cushioned her.
Sporting a raging hard-on, Nick advanced between Erika’s legs.
Part of the towel, that had been underneath Erika’s legs, had fallen to
the deck of the boat. Nick kicked that part of the towel back
underneath the chaise lounge. He needed it out of his way, so he could
keep his feet planted solidly on the boat’s deck.
Nick flexed his cock. His balls hung heavily under his
crotch. He held Erika firmly, like a farm wife might hold a turkey.
With her legs wrenched wide, Erika reminded me of a Thanksgiving bird
spread apart for stuffing. Her hole waited, covered by soft fur that
would be no impediment to Nick’s stemming cock. In fact, it would
please him, grazing his member, a soft, inviting place for him to
relieve himself of his madness.
“Oh! He’s going to stuff her with himself!” I blurted aloud,
to no one. I remembered my bottom, bared, in back, the trees in the
distance, their branches seeking, groping, yearning out over the still
waters of the lake. I imagined I might be suddenly poked from behind
and reached for Larissa’s hand. She found it, clutched at it.
Alternately we squeezed each others’ hands for encouragement. I meant
to reach behind myself, to pull up my panties, to protect my bottom from
the trees, but I stood frozen instead. I was a rabbit, contemplating
headlights. My belly was awash in butterflies.
I had never seen anyone fuck. I watched with startled eyes as
Nick reached for a tube next to Erika’s body on her chaise lounge. I’d
thought the tube was suntan lotion. Yet, as I watched, Nick popped open
the tube and squirted it onto his penis. It was sex jelly, not suntan
lotion, I suddenly realized. Nick had showed us some in his bedroom,
though we hadn’t used it. It wasn’t needed for cock sucking.
Nick groomed his penis for the task he obviously contemplated.
Erika did nothing to stop him, simply lay back, let her legs remain
outside his.
“Oh, will he cum?” I whispered to Larissa. She had swallowed
Nick’s cum, when she stayed overnight with him. But when Nick trained
us both, the next day, he had refrained from releasing his sperm. He
said he was required to save it for the party.
“But won’t your balls turn blue?” Larissa had asked him,
innocently.
“I don’t know,” he’d replied. “I know we promised each other
as Navy SEALs not to cum after a certain day, and when I take an oath
that’s a military one, I stick to it.” He’d smiled. “That’s why I
spermed your mouth so thoroughly last night,” he added. Yet he was hard
again, and his balls had seemed quite full when he let me squeeze them,
there in his bedroom. Then we’d spent half an hour teasing him,
inviting him to fuck us, begging to suck his cock some more, to ‘really
give it a workout and test you,’ as Larissa had put it, until, unable to
stand our taunts, he’d sent us both home.
“I’m a man,” he’d said, giving us both a friendly pat on our
bottoms as he pushed us out of his house. “But I’m also a military man,
and an oath is sacred to a military man. Now go, and leave me to my
blue balls until Saturday morning.”
Now Nick was naked again, his cock bursting with passionate
energy. It quivered in the summer air. It’s tip offered that strange,
clear pre-cum that seems like sperm but isn’t, that merely offers itself
up as natural oil to grease a woman’s opening as the man enters her.
Nick tossed aside the tube of sex jelly. It landed on the deck of the
boat, half used, half unused. A bit of jelly oozed from the still-open
tip of the tube.
“Oh, God!” Erika said, gazing down briefly at Nick. “I had no
idea you were so big!” Then her eyes looked away, as if afraid.
“Yeah, well, here’s to you, babe,” Nick said. Then, with a
grunt, he stabbed at her most intimate, most vulnerable place with his
very hard cock. Erika screamed. Her cry echoed across the still lake.
I wondered if there were hunters in the woods. Would they come running,
to save her? Or would they merely laugh: “Honeymooners,” one would say
to another, like men do, scoffing, when they know they’re denied.
“Yah, place isn’t the same with honeymooners up here, fucking
away in some cabin. It’ll scare away those moose we saw.”
And then, with the sun heading down in the west, knowing they
couldn’t have whatever it was they were missing, but that they could
have dinner if they kept after the moose, they’d put the screams out of
their mind.
Nick took Erika violently. She spasmed. She gasped. A scream
caught in her throat and didn’t come out. Nick pressed harder, deeper,
wrenching her apart with his hands, spearing her with his manhood.
“Uhn,” Erika said. It was a gutteral sound, like a wounded
animal might make, and she lifted her hips. I tightened my grip on
Larissa’s hand. I thought I was watching her commit suicide! How could
she bear that awful male prong ripping into her insides? She bucked her
hips again, upward, to meet him, like a lamb eager to meet its end, if
only to end the pain of the sacrifice. Nick grunted, suddenly, in
response, as if he too were suffering. Could he be? I saw his rear-end
tighten. The small fleshy buns seemed to be straining. His head flung
back.
“UHHH!” Nick bellowed. Then, he breathed, his voice suddenly
ragged, “God you’re tight!” I saw his tautened balls quiver. His back
showed all its muscles. They strained, as if he were lifting a heavy
load. Or resisting one. He seemed to fight with himself and then
recover a little.
Nick drew back. Erika sighed.
“How many times have you fucked?” Nick asked.
“Not - Not as often as I like to let on,” Erika admitted.
“Guess not,” Nick answered. He shook his head. “Well, here
goes. I’ll break you in a little. Don’t blame me if I sperm you. I’ll
do my best not to.”
“Ah, God! Do what you wish!” Erika said. “Fuck your friends
and their party.”
“No, this is just preparation,” Nick answered. “We cum in the
cave, not out here. Try not to scream so much, or I’ll have to gag
you. We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.”
“It - doesn’t matter,” Erika said, clearly willing to drive
herself all the way, if she could.
“Damn you’re so tight and beautiful!” Nick answered. And then
he gave a loud, almost warlike cry, despite his wish not to, for he was
jamming himself up her again, and finding her deliciously difficult
going.
We stood on the deck of the boat, looking rather ridiculous, I
thought, for we all wore neat, brand-new tennis shoes, their laces tied,
but otherwise we wore little, if anything else.
Nick and Erika were totally naked, except for their shoes.
Erika fetched her visor from where she’d left it earlier in the
afternoon, replaced it on her head. She did nothing to try to reclaim
her torn panties or bra. They were quite useless now, unwearable, and
hardly wearable, in my opinion, when they were new.
Nick’s cock stood upright. It reminded me of a doorknob,
except it was much longer, though at least as thick. And real doorknobs
didn’t drip pre cum from their tip.
Erika smiled at Nick. He’d ridden her hard, but managed to
pull out at the last minute. He was hard as a rock for the party, and
by the haggard look on his face you could see he was desperate. Yet he
stood idly next to the rope railing that enclosed the ship’s deck,
keeping us safe from the water. He breathed, letting his cock rise and
fall with his breath. I gazed at him, frankly, then away, like a shy
2-year-old girl wishing to explore the world, but wishing to remain safe
too, clutching at her mommy, then venturing off, then running back to
her to clutch at her again. He watched my darting eyes and smiled to
himself. I might go into his party a virgin, but he knew I wouldn’t
come out one. I perhaps knew that, or perhaps didn’t, or perhaps kidded
myself that I would do just as I wished, whenever I wished, and emerge
from the party in whatever condition I chose.
Erika rubbed her pussy. She was sore, at the juncture between
her legs. She smiled at Larissa and me. We would be sore too, before
tomorrow, before we returned to the boat, her eyes seemed to say. I did
not wish to acknowledge this. I avoided her gaze.
“Girls, I’m going to prepare you now,” Erika told us. She
ordered us to stand straight and we did, the sun warming our bodies as
we waited for her instructions on the deck of the boat. In her hand she
held a big, fresh tub of ice cream. She’d gotten it from the rec room.
It was cold, and she held it with a dish towel, so as not to suffer the
feel of it upon her hand. In her other hand she held an ice cream
scooper. I liked ice cream. If this was our ‘preparation,’ I didn’t
see anything worth objecting to. I still wished to look mature, to not
complain, despite my childish misgivings. I waited quietly as she
touched herself again between her legs with a finger, dextrously holding
the ice cream scooper in the same hand, and then advanced to us.
Erika had opened the top of the ice cream container already.
Now she lifted her scooper, and dug into the ice cream inside. She
lifted out a big hunk of vanilla ice cream.
“Don’t you have chocolate? I like chocolate better,” Larissa
objected, seeing what flavor it was. I opened my mouth, prepared to
recieve the ice cream. I was wordless, my back straight. We were two
disciples standing at attention, and Erika’s eyes told us she was
pleased with our posture.
“It really doesn’t matter what flavor it is, dear,” Erika
said. We happened to be standing by a table, by chance, I supposed, a
small folding card table that had not cards on it but a tube of sun tan
lotion, and somebody’s half finished drink. There was a book, “The
Story of O.” Erika had been reading it all afternoon but I hadn’t asked
what it was about. It was a paperback, with a boring white cover. I
assumed it was about boating, with its white cover, for sailors wore
white hats, and Erika had been wearing a white bikini, and her visor was
white. Erika nudged aside the book as she set the box of ice cream down
on the table. I glanced at her, at her scooper, my mouth still open,
childlike, waiting to be fed.
Erika ignored my mouth. Instead, her fingers reached for the
front of my panties. She caught at the waistband, where the panties,
too short to cover my pubic hair like they should, ended. I thought she
would pull my panties up higher, or try to, to keep me modest. Instead,
to a soft breath of surprise from me, she pulled them open. Like a
pouch, except I had nothing inside, no ‘equipment,’ as boys have, just
the soft fleecy fur of my pubic mound. The lips of my cunt felt moist.
“Such a little swimsuit, but really, you should have something
more than just your pussy in it, don’t you think?” Erika asked.
“No,” I answered, or was about to, when suddenly I shrieked.
Erika pressed the ice cream scooper to my belly, inverted it, and
dropped that big, freezing ball of ice cream right into my pulled-open
panties!
“EEEEHOOOOOCH!” I shouted, not caring if wicked hunters,
stalking game in the woods, heard me.
“Keep your posture straight! Hands at your sides!” Erika
snapped at me. She let go of my swimsuit. It snapped shut against my
crotch. I looked down at myself. A big ball of ice cream bulged within
my panties. I could see it, at least from the top, for it forced the
waistband of my undies out. I slapped my hand instinctively against
myself, where my legs met. I pressed with embarrassed firmness. My
knees wobbled from the frozen cream.
“Ohhh! Why did you DO that?” I cried. I clutched at the front
of my panties. I was going to try to get the ice cream out when I
realized that the pressure of my hands, pressing against the outside of
my swimsuit, had already smooshed the ice cream into my pussy.
“OOOOHHHH!” I shouted. It was so cold! I felt ice cream run in
rivulets down the insides of my thighs. They felt like currents of ice
against my sun-warmed skin.
“Control!” Erika said to me, hotly. She dropped the ice cream
scooper on the card table and grabbed at my wrists. She pulled them
away from my crotch. “You are not a child anymore, Bambi,” Erika warned
me. “Behave like an adult. Did you see me cum on Nick’s prick?”
“You tried,” I breathed, still freezing in my dell.
“I tried, but he withdrew too soon for me to achieve
fulfillment,” Erika told me. “Though he did make me sore,” she added,
her eyes rueful. “Now stand still, hands by your sides. I’m not
through with you yet. Baby girls have to be tied for this. You should
not need that.”
“No,” I said. My teeth chattered. Yet I let her place my
hands against my thighs. They felt warm. My whole body felt warm,
standing there in the sun. All except where I needed to feel warm most,
in my private, in my soft special place between my legs. I pressed my
palms hard to my thighs and waited while Erika fetched the ice cream
container and the scooper again.
“Now for you, Larissa dear,” Erika said. Her eyes had the
wanton look of a woman who had not cum, but wished to, and now was just
a tad crazy. Yet she had at the same time a smooth, silken grace,
tossing back her blonde hair, as if she did not mind having her
fulfillment prolonged, somewhere deep down in her core. Prolonging it
only promised to make it, when it finally came, all the more explosive.
“Oh, please don’t!” Larissa begged. But she stood at
attention, gripping her thighs, waiting. We were sun-toasted, tanned,
spoilt with free drinks and the leisure to do as we wished, but it was
all for a purpose. A wicked purpose.
Nick appeared beside us. “I’m sorry, but there’s too much
screaming going on on this boat,” Nick said. “I don’t want someone
stealing it, leaving us to walk back. And you girls are both supposedly
runaways now. I can’t be sure someone isn’t out looking for you.” With
that, he produced a pair of gags. They were made of black cloth. How
awful it was, expecting to be fed ice cream, only to be gagged. Nick
stepped behind me and wrapped the gag over my mouth. I tried to
breathe, found I had to do it through my nose. My mouth was blocked.
Nick tied the gag securely behind my neck. It hemmed in my long hair,
which, trailing down my back, now had to suffer the binding of a gag’s
knotted ends across it, though the rest of me was very quickly being
stripped bare.
“Tie... please tie my hands. I won’t be able to stand it,”
Larissa told Nick.
“Ah, we should go inside then,” Nick said. “This will take
awhile, I can see, with you two. I don’t want you standing out here
forever in the hot sun. You’re tanned enough. I wish you no browner.”
We were led indoors. Into the rec room. Erika turned off the
television. ‘Get Smart’ was playing, but we weren’t going to get smart,
I supposed. We were going to be bad girls.
Erika was soft, sexy, her words cooing in our ears as she made
us stand straight and tall in the middle of the room. She bent and
untied our sneakers. She pulled them off our feet. The carpet felt
soft under my toes, my heels. It was a deep, plush carpet. I liked the
feel of it. It was comforting.
Nick got a plastic bag, and a towel. He spread both on the
carpet. The bag first, which was a big Glad bag, then the towel. We
were moved to one side, to stand on the towel, to keep the carpet from
getting messy.
Erika told Nick where he could find ropes. He opened a trunk,
in a closet. He pulled out two long white ropes.
“Do you know how to tie a knot?” Erika asked him.
“Sure,” Nick answered.
“Good,” Erika said. “Bring me the riding crop from the trunk,
dear.” Nick did. It was a big, long, swishy thing, all covered in
black leather. Its stiffness reminded me of Nick’s cock. It frightened
me. There were no horses on board the boat. Why did Erika need one of
those things?
Erika picked up several roses that stood in a vase on the
shelves where the T.V. was installed. Their stems dripped water as she
drew them out. There were no thorns on the stems. They had all been
shorn off, by someone. Erika swished the crop as she walked over to us
with the handful of roses. The crop made an awful, slicing sound in the
air.
“Put these in your mouth,” Erika told Larissa. She made my
friend part her lips. She inserted the stems of the roses between her
teeth. “Now bite down, bite down on them,” Erika told Larissa. “Make
them your gag. You must be trained not to need a gag, though asking for
ropes, perhaps, is acceptable.” Erika glanced at Nick. “Men like
ropes,” she said.
Larissa stared into the room, avoiding the eyes of our wicked
companions. We both knew something new was coming, something we’d never
experienced before. Did we want it? I didn’t know. Larissa bit hard
on her rose stems and waited. I breathed into my gag.
“Turn around, girls,” Erika said. “Hands behind your backs.
Nick must tie them. That’s it, turn, both of you, Bambi,” Erika warned
me, for I was a little slow in doing it. Larissa and I presented our
backs to Nick and Erika. “Push out your behinds,” Erika said.
What? I couldn’t believe it. Yet I obeyed, perhaps too
aroused by the presence of Nick to resist. “Offer your hands, cross
them behind you so Nick can easily tie them,” Erika told us.
I crossed my wrists, rested them on the uppermost curve of my
ass, where it met my back. I felt comfortable, somehow, despite the
flights of butterflies taking off in my stomach. I was no longer
worried about whether I would measure up to Nick’s wishes. He would see
that I did. I would not be capable of denying him, no matter how much
my conscience might tell me to.
Nick wrapped the soft, white rope around my arms. He couldn’t
help prodding my virgin ass with his big, drippy penis. It wet me, but
the moisture was warm, not like the ice cream running down from between
my legs. Gradually the rope lifted my hands, bound up my arms, so that,
standing with my ass arched back, as Erika kept insisting, I was left
with myself feeling like some police station prisoner. I was waiting
for the plunger. It would be used on me and I would confess everything
I knew. Everything I didn’t know, too.
I glanced back. My half-trapped mane of hair swished on the
slope of my back.
“Dip. Dip the lower part of your back, dear,” Erika said. She
pressed in on my tummy, guiding me, moving me, positioning me. I found
myself standing awkwardly with my ass out, my back sloping then tucked
in at its lowest point, making, I feared, a spectacle out of the private
portions of me, the hind parts that should have been shielded from
everyone’s eyes by my panties. But I’d pulled my panties down in back,
lying on the bed, looking at the woods, sipping my ice cream soda. My
conscience had warned me to pull them back up but I’d ignored it.
Erika laid the crop across my bare ass. I felt my cheeks
tighten. What was she doing? I wasn’t a pony, I was a girl! Erika
began sliding the crop back and forth across my rear end as if it were a
violin. The crop felt wickedly hard, yet there was a tension in it, an
undeniable flexibility.
“You have a lovely rump,” Erika complimented me.
“Thank you,” I wanted to answer, but it seemed silly, being
complimented on one’s fanny!
“It will be the life of the party,” Erika told me. Those words
sent chills down my spine. How could -- How could my *bottom* be the
life of anyone’s party?
A fly buzzed in my head. It was a line from an old record, an
old vinyl record, that a guy who lived across from us used to play at
night. The song would drift out of his window and into mine, as I lay
upstairs in my bedroom. “There’s something in my head and it’s not
me...” But was it me, really, deep down, given my dream about the Seals
who rescued and (in some versions of my dream) ravished me? Then
another line entered my mind, as Erika sawed the delicately slim riding
crop across the tender skin of my behind. Back and forth, back and
forth, as if trying to cut my bottom in half. It didn’t hurt, not
really, but it was a little scary, and most unusual, and the line that
drifted into my mind was, “And if the band you’re in starts playing
different tunes.” And then there was something about the moon. But it
was still daylight outside. Why was I thinking about the moon? I
wondered, then, glancing at the full sac of semen slung under Nick’s
crotch, if the moon would be full tonight, when it rose. We would be
closer to it, up here in the mountains, wouldn’t we?
And so I mooned them with my bottom, standing there straight
and tall, primly, but with my panties pulled down in back, so they could
see my ass as much as they pleased. I blushed, embarrassed by the
display of my cleft rump behind me. I was all the more aware of it now,
Erika continuing to pay it attention by rubbing it briskly with her
crop.
But for all my rudeness, Nick and Erika seemed not to mind my
immodesty. They seemed almost to expect it. It was as if they knew a
secret. Give a 13-year-old girl the opportunity to strut her stuff, and
she’ll do it. Not with anyone, no. But Nick wasn’t anyone. He was a
hunk, through and through, like the Navy Seals I’d always dreamed
about. And Erika was nothing if not a model. Too bosomy, perhaps, to
walk a runway, but not to wow men whenever she appeared.
And they were partly responsible for my nudity, weren’t they?
But it was me who’d pulled down the back of my panties. Why? I
wondered. To be racy? Naughty? To compensate for the fact that my
friend Larissa was letting Nick see her boobs? Yes. It must be all her
fault. If she hadn’t decided to prance around the boat with her bosoms
bare, I was sure I wouldn’t be standing here now with my bottom showing.
“I must tighten your bra,” Erika told me. “I don’t want it
popping off you. You must be permitted a little modesty, hmmm?” Erika
asked. I nodded my head, vigorously. I was showing enough as it was.
I didn’t want to show more. Erika touched my back. She undid the
cross-string that cut across it. I felt the cups of my bra loosen.
Before they could break free of my nipples, Erika gave a taut pull on
both untied draw strings. Then she retied me. I was left with a bra
pulled very tight against my breasts. I glanced down. My boobs looked
like they were big, captive marshmellows.
“Hold still,” Erika said. She touched my shoulder with her
slender hand. My head flinched. I looked back. I saw her raise the
crop aloft.
“What?” I asked. The gag muffled my question.
Erika kissed my cheek. She tugged at my gag, playfully, as if
to check its tightness. Then, impulsively, she yanked it down off my
lips. I gasped, startled. She seemed to enjoy my surprise. I gulped
in a mouthful of air. I enjoyed being ungagged. The black cloth that
had bound my lips hung uselessly under my chin.
“Do you remember when you were born, hmmm?” Erika asked. “What
was the first thing they did to you, after you were born?” Her eyes,
close to mine, looked at me brightly.
“They--” my mind raced. What could she mean? I thought of
babies. Then I remembered someone saying something, in health class.
“They spank them? So they can breathe!” I replied. I felt proud, for a
fleeting moment, of my scholastic recall. They had to spank a newborn,
in order to get its lungs to fill with air and to make it breathe. No
spank, sharply delivered, the baby will never inhale and will suffocate.
WHACK! The riding crop descended from its lofty height and
struck my bare ass.
“Yeeeeeoooooch!” I shouted. My lungs filled a moment after I’d
expelled my scream. I was a new teen, just this year, with bigger tits,
wider hips, a plumper ass. And now I was... born?
Erika kissed me again. “How lovely you scream,” she said.
Then, quick as she’d hurt me, she dropped her crop, and rubbed her soft
palm across my heinie.
“OOooohh, that burns!” I said, feeling still the sting of the
crop, despite Erika’s consolations.
“Yesss, darling,” Erika hissed. Her palm seemed to delight in
the squirming of my rump, its sudden heat. My knees sagged. I let her
support the full weight of my bottom with her hand.
“Mmmmm,” I said. I wet my lips with my tongue. It was so
strange, yet so... curious. “Curiouser and curioser,” Alice said. Was
Erika the White Rabbit? Would she lead me into a hole? A hole in the
cliff where my own hole would be entered, violated? And I knew, from
the rude jokes of boys at school, that a girl had more than one hole...
“Yes, you are perfect for it. And just the right age,” Erika
said. She consoled me with another kiss. My nipples stood like upright
pincushions in the cups of my bra as I felt her wet lips upon my cheek.
My bra had held, trapping my bosoms, but the cups were still only thin
thread-bare fabric, and my nipples, despite the restraint, pressed
defiantly into them, showing off the length of their stems. Ah, if only
she would kiss me... in other places, I wished suddenly. My body was
breathless. I was helpless before her, with my arms tied behind me. I
felt a rush of desire. For Erika, for anyone. It was so strange.
Erika kissed me again. My nipples longed to be freed from the tight,
insidious little cups that held them. My bottom wished for soothing
kisses upon its scorched surface. A single line, but it burned! It
marked my cheeks right across the middle, where they reached their
fleshy apex. It was a hot line. An equator. I had an equator now, and
needed only other latitudes to be complete. My Greenwich Meridian was
already marked off. It split my globe into a right cheek and a left
cheek. You could poke your finger in it if you wished. You could drive
in, if you were heartless, to the center of my being. Who would be my
Jules, I wondered? My Jules Verne? Who’s submarine, full of sea men,
would make that journey? Nick gazed at me with flat, hard eyes. His
face was stubbled. Would he grow a Captain Nemo beard? He was not
Little Nemo, no. One look at his cock proved that. He was big, and he
longed to submerge himself in virgin explorations.
“Stick out your bottom more. Don’t be bashful,” Erika told me.
“Noooo,” I sighed. I rested still upon her palm. She squeezed
the center portion of my bare rump with her hand. Her fingers were
long, taut, like the riding crop she’d used on me.
“One more,” Erika said. Her voice was soft, firm.
“No, please!” I begged. My bottom still burned from the
previous stroke.
“Such a bottom,” Erika cooed. “You are too pretty not to be
rewarded for it.” She kissed me again. I straightened up. Her
squeezing hand frightened me. I sensed she’d been about to stick one of
her fingers into my ass.
Nick walked up to me. He kissed me. His face was rough
against my cheek. He dipped a finger into the front of my panites. He
lifted his finger. I saw it was coated with ice cream. He put it in
his mouth, watching me. He licked it half clean. Then he urged me to
open my own lips. Foolishly, I complied. He stuck his half-coated
finger into my mouth.
“Mmmmmf!” I said. Behind me, Erika’s hand pressed to my
heinie. She dug with one finger up into my cheeks. I sucked hard,
desperately, upon Nick’s finger.
“You must be violated,” Erika told me, from behind.
“YEEEE-Hooooch!” I shouted. My eyes gaped. Erika’s finger
wormed up into me. Into my hindquarters. She found my back hole and
stabbed her finger into it. At the same time, Nick drove his finger
deeper into my mouth.
“Mmmmmf!” I heard a gasp beside me. Larissa was watching. She
knew she was next. She clutched at the rose stems between her teeth, as
if they would save her. The blooms gave off a fresh, lovely scent.
“Unnghgh!” I groaned. Erika’s finger pushed deeper.
“Do not tighten yourself, Bambi,” Erika told me. “Relax.
Relax your cheeks.” I shouted as she accompanied her demand with
another thrust of her finger. It hurt me, her long, probing finger. It
burrowed into my bottom as if she were a physician examining me. She
felt no guilt, no need to hold back.
Nick pulled his finger from my lips. He replaced it with his
own mouth. I felt his tongue enter me. My own toungue fought him. He
overpowered mine. I felt his tongue slide, snake like, to the very back
of my throat.
“Kiss her. I must strike her again,” Erika whispered to Nick.
I overheard. I screamed something inaudible and tried to tear my face
away from Nick’s.
Erika lifted her arm. She held aloft the crop. With her other
hand she pressed deep in my hole. I feared she would withdraw, leaving
my bottom defenseless against the crop. With her arm in the way,
perhaps she could not strike me. I tightened upon her finger.
“Oh, you are so tight,” Erika scolded. “You must learn to be
receptive.” She twisted her hand. Her finger turned inside me.
I felt a swish of air at my back. It struck! The crop burned
across the underside of my bottom.
“KOOOOOOOCH!” I shrieked. Erika’s crop bit into the softest
part of my ass, the underside, right above where my thighs met my
bottom.
I stood facing into a corner. My hands were untied. They were
well occupied, though, for I had them pressed tightly against my
backside.
I heard Nick laugh. He and Erika were preparing Larissa for
our party. Her hands were still bound. The front of her panties now
held a big scoop of ice cream. I listened, sniffling a little, as Erika
pulled down the rear of her swimsuit.
“Two strokes, just like Bambi,” Erika warned her. A kiss from
Nick, invading Larissa’s mouth, suppressed her response.
“WHACK!” Erika’s crop swatted hard against my friend’s
heinie. I heard her groan. The sting was deep, I knew. I rubbed my
own bottom in sympathy. I had two equators now, burned into my ass.
One cut across the crest of my cheeks. The other one marred the lowest
part of my tushy.
I breathed in. I breathed out. My breasts were freezing.
Erika had loosened my bra. I hoped that meant I would not receive any
more spankings. But then Erika had done a wicked thing. She’d treated
my nipples to their own scoops of ice cream. One for each breast. My
bra cups bulged over the cream-heightened mounds of my breasts. My
nipples, hardened by the cold, pressed into the frozen mush.
Between my legs the ice cream contained in my panties was
slowly melting. It formed long rivulets down the insides of my thighs,
white trails, leading down to my toes. Nobody seemed to notice that,
placed into the corner, I was no longer on the towel meant to catch my
drips. I did not tell them. Let Erika’s carpet get stained with ice
cream. She had marked my bottom.
“Settle down,” Erika admonished my friend. “Stop wiggling.
Where you’re going, you’ll be taught every facet of the art of love.
You will not be spared any part of it.”
I rubbed my heinie. I’d learnt about crops today. I had not
known of them before. I thought they were only for horses.
We stood on the back of the boat. Erika, Nick, myself,
Larissa. Larissa and I stood holding our bottoms. They still hurt, but
we’d been permitted to draw up the backs of our panties. I was
grateful. I didn’t like exposing my bottom anymore. It was too
dangerous.
Erika stood behind us. She was still naked, and now she’d
removed her tennis shoes. Only her sun visor remained, perched on her
head. She still held the crop in her hand. I shivered, nervous, and
from the mess of ice cream in my bra and my panties. I felt sticky.
Nick coughed, cleared his throat. He was standing beside Erika.
“They should dive in now,” Nick told Erika. He was naked, like
she was. With one exception. Erika had insisted on putting a condom
over his erection. She was worried he might scrape his cock against the
rocks lining the inside of the underground tunnel.
“Girls,” Erika said. She came round in front of us. She stood
a little to the side. She brushed back her hair with her hand. We
stood, watching her. The shadow of the cliff had encroached across the
deck of our boat as we played our awful games in the rec room.
Erika lifted her crop. She held it between her breasts, like a
trusted friend. On either side of its stiff stem her breasts bulged,
free and naked and seemingly selfless. Her nipples were excited. “We
must go swimming now, girls,” Erika told Larissa and I.
“Oh, I don’t want to get my hair wet!” Larissa answered. Her
voice was testy. Her face sulked.
“Don’t make me smarten you up,” Erika warned Larissa. She
flicked her crop down. It brushed Larissa’s breasts. My friend wore no
bra. She flinched as the crop lightly kissed her nipples. Larissa had
gotten ice cream put on her boobs, just like me, but Nick had licked it
all off. Was I jealous? I didn’t know. Nick’s saliva glistened upon
Larissa’s teats. I wished Nick had done me the same favor, if only to
rid my breasts of the ice cream I bore in my bra cups. My own nipples
felt like they were freezing off me!
The heat of the day was past. I felt a chill wind upon me. I
sensed we would have to jump into the water, for it would be warmer,
retaining the day’s heat. It, and the rocks. It would be warm inside
the cave.
Erika had locked the door to the rec room. Nick had locked up
the boat’s pilothouse. Yet I could not decide whether to obey Erika, or
not. Could I go back? Back to the far end of the shore? I
contemplated it. The word ‘how?’ entered my thinking. Yes, how? How
would I do it? Nick and Erika certainly weren’t going back. They were
going forward, into the cave. Erika wouldn’t let me drive her boat, by
myself, of that I was sure. Who knows, I probably would wreck it
against the shoreline. I had no experience driving a boat. Nick, too,
couldn’t help me. His car might be fun to drive, but I’d never driven
at all. I’d wind up smashing his car on those winding roads leading
down from the Catskills. Then none of us would have any way home.
I couldn’t walk back. That was out of the question. I had
only my obscene little bikini. Even that was a gift from Nick. He
might take it back. Then I’d be naked, totally. I knew I couldn’t go
traipsing off through the woods in my altogther. This was hunting
season. There would be hunters in the woods. I might get shot,
mistaken for an animal. Or... worse might happen.
Larissa pulled down the back of her panties. She looked at
Erika, afraid she might get in trouble for doing it. “My bottom hurts,”
Larissa explained. Erika looked as if she would make a snide comment,
but didn’t. I feared she might whack both of us, with her crop.
Instead, I saw her bite hard into the looped tip of her crop. She
seemed to be contemplating just what I feared, but decided against it.
“Don’t do anything you’re not told,” I whispered to Larissa. I
didn’t want to get smacked again, because of her. Erika was awfully
handy with that crop.
“Fuck you,” Larissa replied. It sounded cute, coming from her
lips. As if she’d never said it before, but now was trying it out.
“Fuck you back,” I said. I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Girls, let’s jump in,” Erika told Larissa and I. “Into the
lake. You first, Bambi. Then you, Erika, since you know lifesaving and
can help her if she gets stuck in the tunnel.”
“Oh, I don’t want to!” Larissa answered.
“That’s why I have my crop,” Erika said. “I’ll be bringing it
along, just in case you two decide to be naughty.”
Nick laid his hands on Larissa’s shoulders. She flinched,
shivered. HIs penis pressed into her bottom. I looked at Nick’s
hands. They looked enormous, trapping her slim teenage shoulders in
their grip.
“I require your complete obedience,” Nick whispered into
Larissa’s ear. I was standing close enough to hear. She seemed to
enjoy his attention, despite his words. She sank back against him. She
gasped as her bottom was invaded, right to its hole, by Nick’s cock. I
supposed he would reach down, grab her hindquarters, wrench her open
back there and enter her rectum. But he didn’t. Instead, he continued
to hold her by her shoulders. The natural tightness of Larissa’s anus
kept him from entering her depths by accident.
Nick looked at me. I felt suddenly delighted for his
attention. I pushed out my breasts. My tummy, already flat, seemed to
withdraw somewhere it would not return from. My hips displayed their
flare more prominently.
“You’re skinny,” Nick told me. I felt offended. I frowned at
him.
“My boobs aren’t skinny,” I answered.
“Get in the water,” Nick said. “Can you dive?”
“Of course!” I replied. “I go to the pool every day!”
“Then dive in,” Nick said. “Nothing graceless, like a
cannonball, or a simple jump. Dive like a swan. We’ll follow you.”
I remembered the gag that lay loosely around my neck. I lifted
my arms and reached behind my neck. “Can I take this off?” I asked
Nick. “I don’t want to hang myself on it, swimming underwater.”
“Go ahead,” Nick nodded. “You’re useless to me if you get hung
up in the cave, and drown.”
“Could you unlock my collar too?” I asked him.
“Sorry, I can’t unlock it. The key’s back at my house,” Nick
told me. It’s tight around your neck, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
“And I suppose I can keep my bikini on?” I asked Nick. He
smiled at me.
“For a little while,” Nick answered.
I undid the gag. It fell to the deck. I didn’t bother to pick
it up. I wanted to kick it off the boat, into the water. But I was
afraid Erika would swat me for doing that.
I shook out my hair. I blushed. I felt proud of myself, with
all of them staring at me, waiting for me to dive. I stepped to the
disembarkment space, between the rope railing that fenced off the boat.
I took a deep breath. My breasts nearly broke free of my bra. I
straightened it.
“Here goes,” I said aloud. I think I was speaking more to
myself than to them. Then I leaned forward a little. I stared at the
water. It looked cold, but I knew it would be warmer than the water.
SPOOSH! I dove. The minute I struck the water, I felt my
bikini fly off me. My bosoms were bared. My panties were forced down
my hips. Larissa saw my bottom appear, under the water, as I ended my
dive in a supple glide, through the water, just under the lake’s
surface. When my head popped up, I heard her laughing.
I yanked up on my panties. With a bit of a struggle I got them
up my thighs and back around my hips. I was grateful to realize most of
the ice cream had been washed off. My cunt lips could be warm and
comfortable again. My nipples no longer felt as if they were stuck at
the North Pole.
Larissa stepped away from Nick. She tossed back her hair. She
grinned at me. As I watched her, struggling to get my bra back
together, I saw her reach for her panties.
“Should I dive now, Nick?” Larissa asked him, without turning
to face him.
Nick stepped forward. “Yes,” he said. He reached for her
bottom. I thought he might smack her, to make her hurry up. But
instead, he yanked up the back of her panties. She got a wedgie. It
startled her, but it hardly served to cover the back of her ass. Her
panties were simply too small, even with them yanked up as high as they
could go.
“Perhaps I don’t need these anymore,” Larissa said. She
reached for the drawstring on the right side of her hips. Looking at
me, but aware of Nick behind her, she undid the ties. She drew the
strings apart. She held them, tentatively, as if she might wish to
re-tie them again. She showed me her pubic hair. The drawstrings on
the left side of her hips remained together.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Larissa said to me,
in a teasing voice.
“No way,” I replied. “I’m keeping my panties on.”
“Not even your boobs?” Larissa asked. She thrust out her
chest, showing hers prominently, for she’d had them bare all afternoon.
“Nope,” I said.
Larissa stuck her tongue out at me. “You’re a spoil sport,”
she said. She frowned and retied the right side of her panties. She
reached back behind herself and pulled the back of her swimsuit out of
her ass. “Step aside,” she told me. “I’m coming in.”
I got out of the way just in time. With a skillful dive,
Larissa splashed into the water beside me. When she surfaced, she
looked at me. She seemed refreshed. Her eyes were bright and glowing.
She looked up at Nick.
“C’mon in!” she called to him. “The water’s fine!”
“In a sec,” Nick answered. “I have to pee first.” He
approached the edge of the boat, and stuck out his penis.
“Nick! No!” Larissa and I cried. Before we could get away, he
yanked off his condom. Pee was already spurting from his penis as he
pulled it off. He swivelled his hips, back and forth, spraying the
water. His pee hit both me and Larissa.
“Ooooh! Yuck! We’re getting peed on!” Larissa gasped. Some
of Nick’s pee fell into her mouth. Suddenly, seeing a chance to best
her, I surged forward toward the boat. I opened my lips. Facing into
Nick’s stream of pee, I received, willingly, some of it on my tongue.
“You’re perverted,” Larissa whined behind me.
“Yum!” I replied. I let Nick pee in my mouth until his stream
shortened. Then, careful not to swallow, letting the pee fall from my
open lips even as it struck them, I followed his dying stream right up
against the side of the boat. I let my mouth remain open until every
drop he had to offer me had dripped into my mouth.
“That’s the spirit!” Erika complimented me. “Larissa, you
should honor whetever fluid your master offers you, like Bambi here.”
“I’m not a pervert,” Larissa answered.
“There’s no perversion at such a party as we’re going to,”
Erika told her. “Here we’re free. Our whole purpose in being together
is to explore each other. And ourselves. In a few days we’ll be back
to our normal lives. But, for now, we must enjoy the opportunity to
make free with each other.”
I rinsed out my mouth by dipping my face below the surface of
the lake. I drew in water, fishlike, then expelled it. The water of
the lake tasted sweet and fresh. Erika dove in while I was doing it.
She splashed down to my right, careful to avoid me and Larissa. At
least in diving, she was polite. But glancing at her underwater, I saw
she’d brought along her crop.
Nick was next. He made quite a splash, coming in. I wondered
if it stung his penis, plunging into the water like that. It was so
big, and stiff. Glancing at him underwater I saw it sticking out from
between his legs. I hoped no fish came along and, thinking it to be
some big, delicious worm, bit into it.
Nick found the cave for me, in the side of the cliff. It was a
flooded, underwater cave, and I gazed at it, fearing it would swallow me
up. Then I resurfaced. I took a big breath. My boobs popped free of
my bra and I had to take a moment to get them tucked back into the
cups. Then I drew another breath, more carefully. I dive underwater
again. I found the cave entrance. Nick was still down there, waiting
for me. He pointed at the cave. Larissa and Erika, meanwhile, were
running out of air. They resurfaced to fill their lungs as I, knowing I
had to move quickly, dove into the cave mouth. I didn’t want to waste
any time waiting for them, and end up drowning.
Inside the cave it was pitch black. But as I swam a little bit
deeper, I suddenly saw a light. It was above me. It was circular in
shape. It was the cave’s exit! I guessed I could reach it with a few
bold strokes. A moment later, swimming hard, I surfaced.
“Oh! Here’s one of them!” I heard a girl shout. I gazed up.
She leaned over the small pool that I found myself swimming in. She
reached down a hand. She was nude, save for a pair of white panties.
They were swim panties, tied up at the sides of her hips with
drawstrings, just like mine. I reached up, accepted her hand. Her bare
breasts swung in my face. She had big ones. They bumped my nose as I
let her pull me out.
“My, you’re well dressed!” the girl teased, once I was on dry
land.
“Thanks, you too,” I answered. She had bright eyes, a cheerful
demeanor. When I saw how slim she was I wondered how she had the
strength to yank me up out of the pool. She had a delicate, elfin-like
face. Her hair wasn’t wet, like mine, but dry. It fell in gorgeous
blonde curls round her shoulders, which were the narrowest shoulders I’d
ever seen. Beneath them her boobs seemed to grow and grow from her
chest. They were quite round, yet at their tips, as if to give an
extra, goddess-like boost to her mammaries, they formed into gourds. At
the end of each sumptuous tit was a light pink nipple. It stuck up,
already excited.
The girl took my hand. I accepted it, but glanced around. We
were in a stone room. Its walls had an uneven surface. It had
obviously been carved over millions of years by the rising and falling
of the lake. I hoped the lake didn’t decide to rise while we were in
here.
“Come on,” the girl said. “We have our own bedroom down
here!” She tugged at my hand.
“Wait!” I cried. I felt her pull me forward. “What’s your
name?” I asked.
“Sherry!” she answered. “Let’s go make love.”
“But...” I protested. Yet she pulled me along, and soon we had
retreated into a cave. It led away from the cavern where I’d surfaced.
Lanterns lit the cave walls. We passed underneath them. The
ceiling of the cave was high. The lanters had been placed high up on
the walls to give off the maximum illumination.
I felt warm. It was not cold in here, as it had been out on
the lake surface. “When did you come here?” I asked Sherry.
“This morning,” she answered. “Then Erika went back, to fetch
you.”
“Is there anyone else down here?” I asked.
“Three of us,” Sherry replied. “Me, another girl, and two
guys.” She grinned at me. “You’ll like them. Both the guys are quite
well endowed, and the girl is terrific. I just met her this morning!”
We approached another passageway. It had a low entrance. We
had to duck under stalagtites to get within.
“Hi!” I heard. I looked up. To my surprise, the passageway
proved to be a cavern, like the one I’d surfaced in, arriving from the
lake. But it was more than that. The other room had been decorated
only with lanterns. Here, there were lanterns, but much more. I saw a
sofa. Several chairs were arranged around the room. There was a big
mirror. A nightstand. There were condoms on the nightstand, plus vials
of lubricant. In the center of the room, a very large bed waited.
Nearby, a girl sat perched on one of the arms of the sofa. She was
licking a lollipop. But she was at least 20, not a child. She had no
clothes on.
“I just changed the sheets!” she assured us.
“Thanks,” Sherry answered. “Where are Jim and Walter?”
“They went off to pee,” the nude girl replied. She had dark
pubic hair. The hair on her head was black. It hung down round her
face in long, straight strands. Her skin was flawlessly white and for a
moment I feared she might be a vampire. But she had big, deep blue
eyes, and they made her look quite gentle, even submissive. When she
shifted her posture on the arm of the chair, I saw she had red slash
marks across her derriere. She winced. I realized someone had whipped
her.
Sherry turned to face me. She smiled. “Let’s play,” she
suggested. She reached for the drawstrings on her panties.
Confidently, still gazing at me, she began to untie one of them.
Despite my better instincts, I reached for my own swimsuit
bottoms. I felt energetic. Did she really mean that we were to play
together? In bed? Without thinking, I copied her. I undid the right
side of my bikini and found myself staring as she revealed her bush.
It was, as you might imagine, an ordinary girl’s bush. A small
cluster of hairs, placed neatly between her legs, formed an inverted
triangle. But I felt a thrill, all the same. We showed each other our
privates as if we were small girls, in a back yard, introducing our
secret places to each other for the first time. I let Sherry stare at
mine as I stared at hers. Then she dropped her panties. With one side
already opened, they slid partway down her legs. The remaining tie
clung to her, but it couldn’t fight the pull of gravity. As I watched,
her panties, with a helpful push from her hands, skittered down to her
feet.
I got cold feet. I stood there, still gazing into her bush,
holding in my hands the two drawstrings I’d untied. My right hip was
bare. My left hip still felt the snug embrace of the drawstring on that
side of my waist.
“You can’t go to bed with wet panties,” Sherry admonished me.
Her voice was light, sweet. “Or a wet bra,” she said. She reached up
and, her own breasts swinging gently before me, she pushed up my bra
cups. My nipples popped out. She smiled at how stiff they were.
Lightly, she grasped them. She gave each a slight twist.
“Oh!” I gasped.
“Are you into pain?” Sherry asked.
“No,” I breathed.
“But you are the virgin, aren’t you?” Sherry said. She patted
my breasts, as if to make up for having pinched them. The she turned
me, slightly, and undid the drawstring that held my bra to my back.
“Oh! I’m not sure--” I protested. But I felt my bra undone,
all the same. With reluctant fingers I let go of the part of my panties
I’d untied. My panties sagged round my hips. The half I’d untied fell,
leaving only my left hip to save me. Sherry reached down and, with the
lightest push, caused my panties to fall to the floor.
“There,” she said. She lifted my bra off my head as I stood
staring down at my feet. As I contemplated whether or not to pull my
panties back up, Sherry relieved me of my bra. It was still damp, from
my swim. But my skin was almost dry. My hair hung down my back, drying
slowly. It felt like a big wet rope.
“Let’s get you a hair dryer, for both your hair on your head
and down there,” Sherry said. She pressed her palm with easy
familiarity against my private. I shivered. She kissed my cheek. She
led me across the room, to the nightstand. On the floor beside it,
lying on the living rock of the cavern, was a modern, battery-operated
hair dryer. It looked incongrous, lying there, a new device lying on a
stone floor that was millions of years old.
Sherry picked up the hair dryer. She turned it on. It made a
buzzing sound.
“I’ll dry your hair for you,” Sherry told me. “Spread your
legs.” Instead of going to my head, to dry my hair there, she placed a
hand between my legs and intruded the hair dryer between them. I felt a
warm rush of air against my private.
“Oh, I don’t really need-- !!” I squeaked.
“Shhhh,” Sherry said. Gently she rotated the hair dryer
around. I felt its exhalation of air against my cunt lips.
“Ohhhh,” I breathed. The feel of the warm, hot air made me
moisten myself, even as Sherry tried to get me dry.
“You’re excited,” she said. “Try to relax. Or do you wish to
orgasm now? I can rub your spot for you, if I can find it.”
“It’s right... there,” I replied. I placed my finger down
between my legs and touched the special place between them. “Oooooh!” I
suddenly screamed. Her hair dryer was driving me crazy! I’d dried my
own hair before, this way, of course. But the combination of playing on
the boat, and not finding fulfillment, only teasing, plus the strange,
erotic place I now found myself in, made me desperate to be naughty. I
rubbed my snatch with just one finger, afraid to use more, lest I
embarrass myself, yet hungry for the touch my finger could bring.
“My, such an eager beaver!” Sherry said. She lifted the hair
dryer to my head. My finger remained on my clit. “Go ahead, rub!”
Sherry told me. “Make yourself cum if you wish. We’re all free to do
as we like, even to masturbate.”
“Oh I don’t want to but...!” I gritted. I tried to stop
myself, but my urge became implacable. Sherry smiled, began drying my
head. I sighed. I suppressed a scream. My finger worked diligently
between my legs. Then, with Sherry pampering me, I came suddenly on my
finger.
“Ooooh, now you’re quite wet,” Sherry said. She kissed my
cheek. “Naughty girl.”
“I know...” I replied.
“Oh, you like spankings!” Sherry said. She touched a hand to
the cheeks of my ass. They tensed, feeling her touch.
“No,” I replied. “Erika whipped me. With a riding crop.”
“Poor baby,” Sherry answered. Lightly she kissed my cheek.
“We’ll get in bed and help your ass feel all better, okay?”
“Mmmm,” I answered. I was still recovering from my orgasm. I
longed to come yet again. I wished not to, though, afraid I’d look like
a slut. My hands played across my hips, uncertainly, dying to dive back
between my legs.
When my hair was dry, Sherry led me to the big mirror. She had
me gaze into it with her. She put a hand round my waist. She had a
nice tan, as I did. But without any clothes, we stood gazing at the
white parts of our bodies, where our bikini bras and bottoms were
supposed to be.
“We’re the bare hip girls!” Sherry said at our reflections in
the mirror. Her large breasts wiggled their gourd-like tips as she
spoke. I found myself laughing. I felt sexy. I had a brand-new body
and I was just beginning to explore its potential.
“Are we-- are we going to make love?” I asked in a small voice.
“Sure,” Sherry replied. “It’ll make us both nice and juicy for
the men,” she said. She looked gravely at me in the mirror. “And you a
little juicier,” she added.
“Mmmmm, I’m sorry,” I answered. “I didn’t mean to play with
myself.”
“We’ll be playing with each other in a minute,” Sherry told
me. “Have you ever kissed another girl’s cunt?”
“No!” I replied, surprised.
“You have a lot to learn, then,” Sherry said. “We better get
started before you get any older. I got laid at age 12!”
I looked at her. She looked about the same age as the nude
girl sitting on the couch. 20, perhaps 19. I felt her hand pull on
mine. She drew me away from the mirror. We crossed over to the big
bed. Its cover sheet and blanket were already pulled down. It had
three big pillows at its head. I spied something black curling out from
underneath one of them.
“Oh! A whip!” I cried, shocked.
“Just in case you want any more,” Sherry said. She pressed a
finger into the right cheek of my bottom. “Get in.”
“I’m not really sleepy,” I replied. The tail of that whip
frightened me. It was thick, sinuous. At its end it bore a
sharp-looking knot.
“This bed isn’t for sleeping in,” Sherry said. “Not right now,
anyway.” She pressed a hand to my backside. “Get in,” she repeated.
“Or do you like to be treated roughly?”
“No,” I said.
“I like it rough,” the girl on the sofa, across the room,
chimed in. I looked at her. She was breathtakingly white, without so
much as a tan, yet she liked it rough? Well, the skin of her bottom
wasn’t white. Someone had let her feel a whip there. Perhaps the very
one I now saw lurking beneath the bed’s center pillow.
“Come on, we both need to be in bed when the men return,”
Sherry said. She pushed me, hard. I went sprawling across the bed.
Sherry kneed her way onto the bed. She plopped her bare ass
squarely on the bed’s center pillow. She leaned back against the bed’s
wooden headboard. She spread her legs. The whip tail snaked out
between them.
“Please eat my cunt,” Sherry told me. “I want to get nice and
juicy, like you are.”
I gazed at her furry mount. “I’ve never done that,” I
answered.
“Just stick out your tongue, silly. Then stick it in me,”
Sherry replied, matter-of-factly.
“If it helps, I’ll leave,” the girl across the room announced.
“I think I hear someone coming.” She giggled at the double-meaning.
“Or, if they’re not, they soon will be!” she added. “I’d better go
check who it is.”
The girl got up from the sofa. She padded from the room. Her
bare feet slapped the stone floor. She sounded like Gollum. Did that
make me Galadriel?
I gazed at my hostess. She lay waiting. Her finger,
impatient, touched the curls of her pubic hair. She was like me,
wanting pleasure, but not quite willing to do it herself.
“Oh, alright,” I relented. “There’s a first time for
everything, and I guess this is my weekend to try things.”
“Mmmmm, yes!” Sherry answered. She opened her legs wider. Her
slit beckoned. I saw it was already moist.
With a sudden animal-like instinct, afraid of myself, yet
wanting to please, I slithered up the bed. I lay with my head and body
between Sherry’s wide open legs. I smelled her. Her essence. It
wasn’t unpleasant, though I’d have preferred to sniff the excited sex of
a man. Perhaps Nick would find me here, sniffing and licking at
Sherry’s pubis. He would get excited, perhaps instantly, to the point
of having to give me what I wanted. What I was afraid to demand.
I arched my hips. I stuck out my tongue. I pushed my head
between Sherry’s legs. I touched her labial lips, at their apex.
“Ooooooh!” Sherry cried. Her voice was loud. I felt her legs
tense. Did she want more, or not, I wondered? I grasped her thighs.
They were strong, but slim. I slipped my hands up them. Her skin was
incredibly smooth. I played my fingers across the white untanned space
stretching across her hips, where her bikini panties were supposed to
be.
“Mmmmm,” Sherry said. Her voice seemed receptive. I took it
for a cue for me to continue. I extended my tongue. I placed it
between her cunt lips. I began to lick.
“Yesss,” Sherry hissed. Her back arched. She pushed her hips
out. I felt a convulsion pass through her body, her belly. I felt
between the lips of her cunt for her spot. “A little higher,” Sherry
urged. I moved my toungue upwards. “Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm,” Sherry sighed.
Each of her sighs was fraught with passion. Then, I found it. Her most
special place. Another spasm tore through her. Her hips heaved.
“Go ahead, spend in my face,” I said with sudden abandon. I’d
never had a girl cum in my face before. I was eager to try it. Was it
really as great as the lesbian girl in my gym class said it was? I
doubted it, but I probed Sherry more deeply with my tongue, anyway, if
only to make her scream.
“Yes!” Sherry urged. She spread her legs even wider than they
already were. She wrenched her hips up from the pillow. She let out a
frustrated, yet delicious, moan. Her hips collapsed against the pillow
and, almost immediately, she wrenched them upward again.
“Ooooh!” I suddenly cried. Her pleasure aroused me. I plunged
my hands down between my own legs, even as my mouth continued to work at
the juncture of hers. I found my own place, where my pleasure resided.
“Lick, doggie!” Sherry begged. I tongued her. Yet I
tittilated myself, too. Waves of desire began washing through me.
I felt two shadows fall across the bed. They seemed to fall
directly over my bottom. I froze. I felt eyes staring at me, at my
arched-up tushy.
“Do you want something?” a male voice asked.
“No,” I squeaked. I wished I could hide under the bed covers.
But they were down at my feet.
“I think she wants something,” a male voice laughed. “God,
what an ass!”
A hand slapped my bottom.
“Yeeoch!” I shrieked. My cheeks, shocked, drew together as
tightly as they could.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones to admire it,” the first
male said to his friend. “Look.”
“It needs more marks than that, don’t you think?” the other man
answered. “Where’d we stash the whip?”
“She’s sitting on it,” the first male replied.
“Figures,” the other one answered. “She’s not nearly as
receptive to a good spanking as Bridget is.”
“Mmmm,” the first man agreed. “Sherry! Get off the damn
whip!”
“Nooooo. I don’t want to be spanked!” Sherry blurted. I
reached back, behind myself. I clapped my hands protectively over my
bottom cheeks. Then, sticking my tongue back into my new friend’s dell,
I decided to lick her right to the finish line of her pleasure.
A few minutes later we both rose from the bed. Sherry looked
bleary-eyed. I would have, too, but I’d been too intent on protecting
my ass. I hadn’t used them on my pussy. I had instead clutched my hind
end, fearful of using them to rub my dell to fulfillment. I looked at
the men. They looked at me. They seemed to like what they saw, and I
blushed.
“Hi,” one of the men said to me.
“Hi,” I answered. Then, quite bashfully, I asked, “What’s your
name?” I couldn’t help looking at his penis as I did so. It was long
and hard and looked like it would begin shooting sperm at any moment. I
hoped he didn’t splatter it all over me, if he did. Then again... My
wandered in pleasurable circles. I looked at the other man’s
equipment. Would I really lose my virginity? Now? A part of me could
barely wait. Yet they both looked too big to have me. Perhaps I needed
a guy my own age.
“I’m Jim,” the man closest to me answered. He towered over
me. I felt small under his gaze. He gestured to the man beside him.
“This is Walter,” he said. It was a strange way to make introductions.
We were all naked. The men’s dicks stuck at me like broom handles. I
clasped Sherry’s hand. We were as nude as they were. Our slits brimmed
with moisture, inviting them to stick us where they pleased.
“Lie back on the bed,” Jim told me. I complied. I didn’t want
to resist anymore. “Lift your knees,” he instructed. I glanced at him,
at his penis. Then, blushing fiercely, I pulled up my knees. I placed
my feet flat on the bed. “Spread your legs. Let me see your virgin
cunt,” Jim told me. I obeyed. I felt the lips of my cunt, exposed
under his gaze. “Mmmm, delicious,” Jim commented. “This is the virgin,
isn’t it?” he asked. He glanced at Sherry.
“She says they’re both virgins,” Sherry replied.
“Oh, yeah. Where’s Nick?” Jim asked her.
“I think they just came through,” Sherry answered. “Bridget
went to get them.”
“Fine, fine,” Jim said. “He gets to pick one. We get the
other one.” He looked over at Walter. “Go see if they’re here yet.”
“Okay,” Walter answered. He turned. He left the room. I
watched his small, manly ass as he departed, bending low so he could
negotiate his way under the stalagtites. I liked his bottom, but I
couldn’t decide which man I liked best. They were so fine. Both were
big and strapping, like football players. Navy SEALs.
I looked between my spread legs, at Jim. “Will this hurt?” I
asked him. My voice was nervous.
“We’ll go slow,” Jim answered. “Rub yourself. I want to see
you very excited, first. It will help lessen the pain when I enter
you.”
“Mmmm. It will be you, then,” I said. I slipped my hand down
my belly. I touched the hole of my navel.
“That’s not your cunt,” Jim teased me.
“I know,” I breathed. My hand passed lower. I felt the hairs
of my pubis. I pushed my fingers lower still. Between my legs, where
my wet little nest lay. Softly, I began to rub.
“Ooooh!” I squealed.
“Yes,” Jim urged me. “Make yourself as wet as you can.”
“Okay...” I replied. I massaged my sex. I thought of his as I
did so. His was big, bulky. I was small, a tight little hole. Was I
really prepared to take his thing up me? I stroked between my lips and
hoped I was. There was no turning back now.
“Prepare for a long ride,” I heard Jim say. He stepped
forward. He leaned over me. My eyes, lidded with pleasure, popped
open. I stared at him anew. “Going up,” he breathed to me. And then
he stabbed into me. I felt a sharp sting.
“My hymen!” I cried. I heard Sherry laugh.
“Bye, bye!” Sherry said.
“No... pull out! I want to lose it to Nick instead,” I said
suddenly. But I felt blood between my legs, and knew it was too late.
I was undone. Jim pushed into me more deeply. I gasped.
“Uhn!” Jim groaned. His voice was deep, throaty. I felt the
flexing of his primary muscle, inside me. Would he shoot now? No, he
said it would be a long ride. I splayed my legs wider. I began to feel
a desire emerge again to accomodate him. I hoped it didn’t make me a
slut.
Walter returned. He was alone.
“What?!” he bellowed. Then, seeing the inevitable was already
under way, he merely groused, as one who has lost an opportunity,
“You’ve started already.” He might have been angrier, under normal
circumstances, but the open passion of the circumstances overwhelmed
him.
“Take the mouth,” Jim growled. I was no longer a real girl, I
was property. I felt a sudden fright at my status. I’d never been
property before, turned to the uses of male desire. I felt Jim plunge
deeper. He seemed to expand within me, to grow suddenly harder. He
gave a wild, almost resigned, groan. Even as a novice female in these
affairs, I could tell he was about to cum. I clung to his shoulders. I
felt him press into me with a hardness that drove to the very depths of
my soul. His cock wrenched a scream from me as it banged against the
deepest part of my uterus. He was in all the way. He was slamming
against the back wall of my uterus. His seed was contained now in a
tumultuous penis, and backed by a large pair of balls that was churning
with the need to fertilize me. My eggs waited. His mind was fighting
to hold back his seed, just another minute, at least, yet I squeezed him
hard, demanding my fertilization take place. My womb begged for
fulfillment. I felt myself buck. Yes! I had not done that before.
Despite the pain, the newness of my cunt as it was forcibly deflowered,
I liked the feeling. I bumped my hips up again. Jim, despite his
brawn, despite his huge heaviness lying atop me, his rippling muscles
impressing themselves into my small, fragile body, could not control
himself, as he’d promised. He spurted suddenly into me.
I shrieked. I was being flooded! My a man’s jism! It was a
horrible thought, suddenly. That creature I’d always been warned about,
The Man, had himself on top of me and was using his penis to flood my
inner being. Jet after jet expelled itself into me. Jim’s balls were
no longer a safe home for his seed. Now they were commanded to leave,
down the long shaft of his cock. His sperm would find a quiet,
nurturing home, in my eggs.
My mind was awhirl. Had I taken birth control? I couldn’t
remember. I was only 13. Such matters did not always rise to the top
of a girl in eight grade’s ‘agenda,’ so to speak. A few of my friends
(we called them ‘whores,’ behind their backs), had taken to using birth
control on a regular basis. But the rest of my friends simply played
with it, taking it very occasionally, or not at all.
I was torn. I liked the idea of being a virgin, of not
‘needing’ birth control. At the same time, there was a salaciousness,
born of its forbidden quality for 13-year-old girl, in taking a pill now
and then. But now I literally couldn’t remember what I’d done. A part
of me felt proud. Let the hot seed come. Let it overwhelm my womb. I
would give his juice a place to rest from its efforts. It would be safe
with me. It would grow into a handsome boy who made his mother proud by
being a great warrior. A new Navy SEAL, born of myself and the real,
panting SEAL who groaned atop me.
Walter, meanwhile, despite being late to our party, had not
forgotten Jim’s offer. I was shocked to feel my lips pried apart. I
opened my eyes. I expected to see Jim. But Jim’s hands were lifting my
bottom, opening me more as he continued to fuck me. I saw a hairy belly
and found myself underneath a man’s crotch. His hairy balls banged my
forehead. I smelled him. It was a deep scent of Brusk. A huge column
of flesh crossed over my vision and my mouth was required to take the
feel of his cock.
Precum swirled from the tip of his penis and over my toungue.
I feared he would go too deep, yet at the same time I felt a deep need
to accomodate him. To help control his penis, to keep it from going in
too far, and yet to also give it a home, even as I was doing for Jim’s
(perhaps, even, afraid I’d lose it somehow), I closed my lips over it.
I sucked upon it. It filled my mouth. Its girth made my cheeks bulge.
Yet, despite its intrusiveness, I began yanking on it with my teeth and
lips, clutching it as if it were a straw. I would receive a vanilla
milkshake through the tip of his cock. His cock, that he’d just peed
with a few minutes earlier.
“God! How this girl SUCKS!” Walter exclaimed.
I drew harder. I was naughty. I wasn’t to be denied. I’d
show him that even a novice 13-year-old possessed bewitching properties
that could drive even a Navy SEAL mad. He might be able to resist
America’s enemies, but he could not resist me.
Jim, having run his course, lay atop me. He was still within
me, his cock gradually shrinking. With a sudden graciousness, a concern
for my well-being, (and also to give Walter more room), he rose into a
crouch above me.
“Who was out there?” Jim asked.
Walter, I sensed, was the junior of the two, and he answered,
dutifully, “A girl.”
“Really?!” Jim asked. Walter grunted. I wondered if he liked
Jim’s question, since it distracted him, just a little, from my own
mouth, with greedily sucked him. (Not sluttily, though. I needed to
keep him from choking me.)
“Who was it?” Jim insisted.
“A girl,” Walter said. He was regaining control of his
senses. He pulled his penis back a little from my grasp. Then,
expertly, apparently concerned for my welfare, he introduced it a little
deeper. I bit hard on his shaft. He winced. He grabbed my nostrils.
I was suddenly unable to breathe. In response, I popped open my mouth.
He jammed himself deeper. I screamed.
He was too deep! I gagged. I felt his cock against the back
of my throat. Quite casually, he looked up at Jim. He had succeeded
Jim. He found a way to control me, to drive me, to use me as a
receptacle for his cock’s pleasure. He would not cum so soon, I
realized, as the boastful Jim had.
Jim ignored my protests. Like two men in a gym, one of them
exercising, one merely watching, he said, quite calmly, “It was a girl.
But she was only 12. Nice body, though. Apparently she sneaks into the
cave to pick flowers. She comes by that upper route we found
yesterday.” Walter gave a gasp, tensed, then regained control of his
organ. He drew back a little, letting me breathe. “You know,” he
continued, to Jim, that entrance we found yesterday, when we went
exploring after we peed.
“Shit! Someone found out about us!” Jim said.
“She’s actually being coming here for awhile. Not to cum, of
course,” he grinned. “Apparently she thought this was some kind of
private hotel, one she didn’t know and couldn’t find, except through
what she called ‘my secret entrance.’ She told me she comes down here
to pick wildflowers. There are some, she claims, that grow in hidden
places, where the sun manages to shine through a few hours a day. Just
enough to--” he grunted. He repositioned his fullness in my mouth to
insure I could still breathe. “--to grow flowers,” he ended. “I think
she fools around with our stuff, too, though she didn’t admit to that.
And she covers her tracks when she leaves. You know, carefully
adjusting and straightening anything she’s bumped or played with.”
“God! I’d love to meet her,” Jim, whose cock I still held in
my body, commented. It was a casual conversation, except for Walter’s
occasional seizures of pleasure. His pauses to adjust himself in my
mouth. They were men, ‘talking football,’ so to speak. I had been
reduced at last to a kind of receptive couch for them.
“She looks cute in her bikini,” Walter said. “Small breasts,
but definitely one with promise. Full, you know. And of course I’m
sure they’ll grow quite large, given her age. Those kind of girls, the
ones who start filling out early, sometimes wind up with the biggest
breasts of all.”
“I’d love to grow them bigger by sucking on them,” Jim mused.
“Well, go and find her then,” Walter said. “But don’t jump on
her. You know.” He gasped as I fought to control him. My tongue
pressed on his pee tip and attempted to push him back a little. “She’s
obviously a virgin,” he said.
“What’s her name?” Jim asked.
“Amber,” Walter grunted.
“Like the precious stone,” Jim said. He drew back from me a
little, taking his cock with him. I felt him slide out. My vagina
gripped him, as if begging him not to leave. But he slid inexorably
back, and further back. He’d already been used extensively by Sherry
and Bridget. He had no strength left, at the moment. He’d been
constantly fucking for a full day. His cock, exhausted, slipped from my
gripping lips.
Walter, meanwhile, having satisfied Jim’s curiousity, now
decided to force himself to climax in my mouth. I tried to stop him.
But my saliva betrayed me. It kept his penis slick and wet. His own
pre-cum, now expelling itself freely into my mouth, made my tongue and
lips slick and oily.
“Uhn,” Walter said. It was a pleased expression. He was
getting exactly what he wanted from me, at his own pace.
I heard footsteps. A moment later, as I lay half-gagged in the
room, uttering little puffs of air as Walter allowed me to catch quick
breaths, I felt Larissa enter the room. Gazing somehow out of the
corner of my eye, past the massive cock which loomed over me, I saw
her. She squealed when she saw me. Impulsively she drove her hand into
her bikini bottoms. I could see the outline of her slim fingers against
the nylon. She began to rub her pussy.
“Oh!” Sherry exclaimed. She entered behind Nick. I saw she
was holding the man by his penis. It was enlarged. Her hand was
small. Yet she controlled him, by his organ, as casually as a mistress
guiding her dog by its leash. Helpfully she drew upon him. They both
came closer to the bed.
“God Damn! You’ve already started!” Nick swore. I didn’t know
whether he meant with me, or with themselves, not waiting until he’d
arrived. Yet his excitement was heightened by Sherry’s constant,
deliberate tug. Each one made him flinch, just a little. He reminded
me of a horse, rough, unbroken, a great stallion, full of himself, yet
tamed by the gentle, persuasive, soft hand of a woman. He followed her
to the bed. I felt their weight upon it as they got in.
“Hhih, Ncick!” I gasped over Walter’s cock.
“God, you look beautiful with a cock in you,” was all Nick
could say in reply. He was too overwhelmed by Sherry’s hand to get
angry that I’d already been put to use. Perhaps it inspired him to see
me that way. I was no longer virgin. I was broken in. I was ready to
be used repeatedly, by all the men, as something to spend their hot seed
in. I’d been made receptive.
30
Remember, this story isn’t for boys. It’s for *girls only*.
(And keep your sticky hands off it, holy joe!)
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