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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: feb 22 Summer of Sin part 12 of 12 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SUMMER OF SIN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Twelve
Brad left for college. The summer dwindled to a close. I
would have to return to America soon, but Rebecca wanted me to enjoy one
last fling. Her eyes were bright. She kissed my cheek and told me we
would be going to a “Honeymoon Party.”
“Who is getting married?” I asked.
“No one,” Rebecca answered. “It’s just a name for it. A nice
name for a party in August, don’t you think? You don’t have to come if
you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I do!” I said. “But I don’t want to have to take my
clothes off.”
Rebecca turned. She was standing in front of a mirror,
brushing her hair. She wore a tight pair of jeans. The knees were slit
open, as were the sides of her jeans, along the hips. Through the rips
I could see her bare skin. It was unusual, gazing especially at her
hips, where, peeking through the torn-open gashes, one could see her
bare flesh. She wore no panties. The rips in her new jeans, along the
hips, only extended along the bell-shaped curve of her hips. Below, her
thighs were concealed, as were her calves. Her knees showed through the
holes in the front of her pants, of course. At the ankle of each
pants-leg there was a small, half inch rip along the side, as if to
promise that it might, somehow, extend all the way up to the rip along
the sides of her hips.
Rebecca smiled at me. She tossed her long lovely hair. Its
brown strands tumbled down over her blouse. It was a see-through
blouse. It was black. Beneath, she wore a frilly white bra. Rebecca
put down her brush and picked up a white ribbon off the top of her
bureau. She tied it into her hair.
“I can’t promise anything,” Rebecca told me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. I looked up at her
boldy. My snub nose wrinkled with childish indignity.
Rebecca laughed. It was high and lilting. “I didn’t organize
the party,” Rebecca said. “But the hostess did decide to call it a
‘Honeymoon Party.’” She picked up the invitation off the top of her
bureau. She showed it to me. It was a small, discreet card. It was
white, with a white lace ribbon hanging down the side. I took it and
opened it. Inside, it read:
For those who didn’t get married in June,
But are humming a bridal tune,
A party most private,
Wherein one may find it,
And enjoy newlywed bliss,
And love’s sweet kiss,
In surroundings most sweet,
Filled with good things to eat!
“That’s the worst poetry I ever read,” I told my aunt.
“Go put on something nice and be ready to go in fifteen
minutes,” my aunt said.
“Oh, alright!” I gasped. I handed her the invitation. I felt
conflicted. I would be sore in the morning, if the party was anything
like the invitation promised. I’d told Brad before he left for college
that I was going to be his one true love. Now, it looked like I
wouldn’t be. “I’m going to be a strumpet,” I said frankly to Rebecca.
“And you are, too.”
Rebecca laughed. “We’re not charging money for it,” Rebecca
said. “Would you prefer to stay home and read the encyclopedia?”
“No,” I said.
“Then get ready,” Rebecca said. She turned and began brushing
her hair again. “If you don’t like any of the guys, don’t do anything.”
“What if I like the guys but you don’t?” I asked.
“Then we come home,” Rebecca said. She gazed at herself in the
mirror.
“Even if I like the guys?” I asked.
“You’re only 13, darling,” Rebecca said. “I’m in charge of
you, even if I am more liberal than your parents would be.”
“That’s no fair,” I said.
“When you’re 19 you can make decisions for yourself,” Rebecca
told me.
“When I’m 18 I can do whatever I want,” I replied.
“True,” Rebecca said. “Hurry up and quit bickering. Who said
I’m not going to like any of the guys, anyway?”
“I dunno,” I said. “I just wanted to clear it up.”
“Well, now you have your answer,” Rebecca said. “No more silly
questions.”
We travelled in a cab to a large home. We were met at the door
by a woman. She had long golden hair, and shimmering eyes that matched
her dress. It was of a thin fabric, thin as liquid, moulding itself to
her every curve, denying nothing to eyes willing to pry upon her
breasts, seeking the delineation of her nipples, or travelling to the
region between her legs where her mound of pubic hair made a slight rise
against her surrounding flesh. Had her party gown moulded her legs like
trousers, I had no doubt her cunt would have been visible through it.
Except for her gown, she was otherwise bare. Her skin showed
fetchingly: her shoulders, narrow and frail, her bare, model-thin arms,
the lines of her ribcage, the better portion of each of her braless
breasts. When she turned, smiling to us to follow her inside, I was
presented with the entire expanse of her bare back. Even the topmost
portion of her bottomcrease showed above the scalloped-out ‘back’ of her
dress.
I wondered how the party would end, if it were beginning with
such a carefree display of flesh on the part of our hostess. I shivered
and clutched at Rebecca’s hand. I felt overdressed in my miniskirt.
“My name is Glenda, and this is Juliet,” the woman who’d met us
at the door said. She turned to a brunette who stalked into the foyer
from another room. Both women were ravishing; Rebecca tossed back her
hair and seemed to steel herself against a challenge of such beauty, as
if afraid she wouldn’t measure up.
Juliet appeared more formally dressed than Glenda, but it soon
proved to be an illusion. From the front, Juliet wore a high-necked
dress. It came complete with a choker-like collar that fitted tightly
around her neck. Long sleeves covered both her arms down to her
wrists. The dress was black, an austere, jet black, in contrast to the
shimmering, gleaming, liquid-black of Glenda’s gown. There was a black
ribbon in Juliet’s hair. She turned, perhaps sensing that my aunt was
feeling the heat of competition. She nodded to us before turning. Then
she walked back into the room from which she’d come, letting us ‘settle
in’ without having too much attention drawn to us too quickly. At the
door to the other room she looked back at us, smiling in an almost meek
way, putting us at our ease and encouraging us to follow her when we
were ready.
It was when she turned around that I saw the true allure of
Juliet’s gown. While it was stiff and formal in its appearance from the
front, it was anything but that from behind. There was, firstly, no
back to her dress. Her bare shoulder-blades could be seen, the whole
long expanse of her back, her naked spine, her slim ribs, all lightly
fleshed, all of it totally uncovered, right down to her ass, and
beyond. Where the hump of her bottom rose, there still was no dress to
cover it. Instead, a matching pair of black panties, complete with
side-tied ribbons, hugged her fanny. The material, like that of her
dress, was very thin. It was drawn so tightly across her ass that I
could see where the furrow of her bottom lay between her cheeks. More
intriguingly, her undies had been cut too low, leaving the top half of
her asscrack completely exposed. The ties of her drawers, long and
ribbon-like, hung out of her low-cut dress. They swished as she walked,
rolling her hips, jiggling her asscheeks with her every lurid step. At
the very base of her behind, as if by chance, her dress curved up
underneath her, to hide only the very last half-inch of her
underwear-clad ass. I wondered how long it would be before she chose to
dispense with the panties, and just party in her gown.
“Shall we go in?” Juilet asked, taking my aunt’s small leather
coat off her and hanging it up in a closet. The question was
rhetorical. My aunt merely smiled shyly. I held tight to her hand.
Already I sensed that we would lose more than her coat on this night of
revelry. Now I knew why she hadn’t bothered to wear any of her
expensive panties. I had on my favorite undies, under my skirt. I
hoped I would get to keep them.
We stepped into the room reserved for partying. It was
decorated in festive balloons. There was a wet bar, and in front of it
a table with food. It held a platter of chips and dips, an assortment
of fruit, and a plate with veggies. There was also, on the table, a
bowl of butter and a large loaf of bread. The bread was fresh-baked.
Its odor filled the room.
I gazed at the guests. They were all young men and women in
their 20’s. The men were dressed in conservative sport coats and
slacks. The women were more daring, showing cleavage easily, as if the
men, perhaps, had a right to see what they were getting before even
having to take off their coats. One woman, perhaps no older than my
aunt, wore expensive slacks and a cheap men’s shirt. The shirt had its
top button closed. All the rest were undone. Her breasts underneath
were bare. They could be seen through the shirt and, more alarmingly,
the whole underside of each of her breasts could be viewed through the
unbuttoned front of her shirt. Her large breasts pushed the shirt out
and away from her. Even the most casual voyeur was able to get a direct
peek at her bare nipples under her shirt. The woman laughed at a joke a
man told her. Her chest shook, delighting his eyes as her laughter
caused her bosoms to wiggle under her unbuttoned top.
Glenda asked our preferences in drinks and we chose ones we
hoped wouldn’t make us too drunk. She sauntered past the chips and
mixed us drinks at the wet bar.
More guests arrived. We mingled. My aunt and I chatted,
sizing up the men and being sized up in turn. A man complimented my
aunt on the rips in her jeans. She told him she liked his pants,
especially how the fabric peaked in front.
“Did they come that way, or did you have them altered?” Rebecca
asked. She gazed with feigned innocence at his crotch.
“I, uh, altered them myself. Upon seeing you,” the man
answered. Rebecca blushed. The man even reddened a little.
“I know what that’s called. I learned it in school. It’s
called a cod piece,” I said, pointing at the man’s loins.
“Forgive her. She’s going into eighth grade next year,”
Rebecca laughed. “In America.”
“I’m just saying what it is,” I said, feeling suddenly foolish.
“She is quite young to attend a honeymoon party,” the man
replied.
“She has been partying quite a bit this summer, haven’t you,
Chloe?” Rebecca asked. I frowned. I felt condescended upon.
“I’ve been bad,” I said frankly to the man.
“Good,” the man said. He lifted his glass to me, as if to
toast me.
“You are not yet married?” Rebecca asked the man. Her eyes
glowed at him. I was still holding her hand. I swallowed, guessing she
liked him best.
“No. Not yet,” the man replied ambivalently. “You are... in
college?” the man asked Rebecca.
“Yes,” Rebecca assured him.
“You look young for your age. But your bust is that of a
woman,” the man said. He gazed in open admiration at my aunt’s tits.
She wore an opaque blouse. It was cut low. She had omitted wearing a
bra underneath it. The man leaned forward and peeked into her blouse.
My aunt giggled. Her breasts wobbled within her top, under the man’s
prying eyes.
“You are quite forward,” my aunt said to the man.
“It is not a party where one is expected to show excessive
restraint,” the man answered.
“Are you going to examine my neice’s tits too?” Rebecca asked
provacatively. The man’s eyes glanced at me.
“What grade did you say she’s in?” he asked.
“Seventh,” I piped up. “But I’m going into eighth!”
“Would you be offended if I gazed at them?” the man asked my
aunt.
“It is up to her,” my aunt answered. She looked at me. I was
wearing a white-collared shirt. It had two buttons fetchingly undone.
I wore a plaid neckerchief around my throat that matched my miniskirt.
I looked up at the man, said nothing. He reached forth his hand and
took hold of the top of my shirt. He pulled. My shirt was drawn out
and away from me. I wanted to scream but instead bit my lip, not
wanting to make a scene. The man leaned forward and gazed down into my
shirt. Thankfully, I did have a bra on.
“She is lovely, but she’s wearing a bra,” the man said,
disappointed.
“Perhaps in a little while she will feel more free,” my aunt
said. She turned away from the man. She looked at him over her
shoulder. Her eyes teased, silently. She took a sip from her drink and
added: “Tell your cod piece to keep up the good work.” Then, demurely,
she whisked herself away, drawing me with her. We bumped into another
man, and with great interest, feighned or otherwise, she struck up a
conversation with him. I glanced back at the man we’d just spoken to.
He was abject. Rebecca had scored a point and he would not soon forget
her. Even though a fetchingly dressed young woman sauntered up to him
and began making conversation, he continued to glance with awestruck
eyes over at my aunt.
We were, I suppose, negotiating. Did the beauty on the surface
match the beauty within? That was the test. And, if the party proved
as freewheeling as the attire of some guests hinted, were there enough
truly beautiful people present? A beau might be chosen, but others
might intervene. A young lady could not always be sure who she wound up
with. I glanced up at my aunt. She was smiling. She was sipping
freely from her drink. I guessed she liked the guests. We would be
staying.
A young man entered the room. I looked at him and liked him
immediately. He was tall. He was fashionably unshaven, three days
beard on his face. He wore a broad-shouldered jacket. He had on slacks
that were uncharacteristically cut off at the knees, and tennis shoes
without socks. He was offered a drink. He declined, told Juliet to
bring him the bottle instead. She laughed. Glenda laughed. Juliet
fetched the bottle and the man took a swig from it and wiped his hand
exuberantly across his mouth. He tugged at one of the panty-ties
hanging from Juliet’s dress. She grinned. He said something. She
asked Glenda a question. Glenda nodded. Juliet, apparently given
permission, undid the ties of her drawers. She drew her undies from
between her legs, pulling them from behind, drawing them out and away
from her bottom. Her fanny was bared. I gazed at it awestruck. One
could see the whole line of her bottom’s crack, right down to the morsel
of dress that covered its base. Juliet turned. She folded her panties
neatly and reached up to the front of the man’s coat. There was a
pocket on the front of his coat. She pulled it open and put her panties
into it. Two black drawstrings from her panties hung out of his pocket.
Glenda turned and faced the other guests. She surveyed us.
Most of the people had not seen the transaction between Juliet and the
young man. Glenda clapped her hands.
“Attention! Attention, everyone!” Glenda said. “I think
everyone who’s coming has arrived,” she said. “Who would like to help
us get our little party started?”
“He will,” Juliet said. She was facing the other guests. She
stood next to the young man in shorts. From her position, no one could
see that Juliet now had a bare bottom. I blushed, thinking of it.
Imagine when she happened to turn! She pointed at the man in shorts.
I felt a sharp pinch up under my skirt.
“OOOOCH!” I shouted.
“Oh, alright. She’s volunteering,” Glenda said happily. I
turned to look who had pinched me. It was my aunt. She blushed. She
was holding her drink glass, and I saw it was empty.
“Go on,” Rebecca said.
“What am I volunteering for?” I asked.
Glenda came over to me and took my hand. She pulled on it.
“What am I volunteering--?” I began again.
“It will be quite fun, and you are the perfect age for it,”
Glenda said, nodding to Rebecca as if to thank her. “Two cupids. A boy
and a girl. Our two youngest guests. Perfect!”
I was led into a kitchen. The young man in the shorts was
brought into the kitchen by Juliet. Glenda let go of my hand and turned
to me.
“You are Chloe?” she asked. I nodded.
“Good,” Glenda said. “This is Vic. He’s 17.” Vic smiled at
me. He took another swig from the bottle he was holding.
I scrunched up my nose. “You look old for 17,” I said.
“I know,” Vic said simply. He took another drink from his
bottle. “What are we supposed to do?” Vic asked Glenda.
“You’re to undress,” Juliet said. She stroked his jacket with
her fingers. She lifted it from his body. He took another drink from
his bottle and let her remove it. “May I hang it over the back of this
chair?” she asked him. Vic nodded. She put it on the back of a chair
that was part of a kitchen table set.
“I don’t want to undress,” I said frankly.
“You must. So you can put on these,” Glenda said. She held up
two small pieces of fabric. Juliet picked up a third item. It was
small. She took the liquor bottle from Vic’s hand and put the item in
his hand. He looked down at it. I gaped at the twin pieces of fabric
Glenda was handing to me.
“It-- it looks like a bikini,” I finally concluded. It was
red. Each piece consisted of two triangles. It was hard to tell which
two triangles were intended to cover the breasts, and which two my cunt
and bottom. Strings, tied and untied, connected or hung from the tiny
pieces of fabric. “I’m wearing a bra and panties,” I told Glenda. “I
don’t need your underwear. If you want to show me off in a bikini, I
can just wear my own underwear.”
“These are edible,” Glenda grinned.
“You women are wicked,” Vic said, gazing in awe at the teensy
jock-strap thingie he was expected to fit himself into.
Juliet, perhaps to overcome all his resistance, unzipped his
fly. (You know how men are.) She slipped her fingers into his shorts
and squeezed his equipment. Vic leaned backward, surprised at her
boldness. Then, feeling her long, agile fingers massaging his dong, he
relented.
“Are you full for the festivities?” Glenda asked, watching as
Juliet’s hand slipped under Vic’s snake-like cock and felt his balls.
“Ah-- yeah,” Vic said. “Unless you make me cum in my pants.”
“What? No control?” Juliet teased. She squeezed his testicals
and reported that they were “enormous.”
“Well, let’s just see,” Glenda smiled. “Get his pants off.
Don’t just stand there milking him.”
I giggled. Unbuttoning my own blouse, for there seemed no way
to escape their requirement that I strip, I watched with awed eyes as
Juliet removed her hand from Vic’s fly and carefully undid the snap on
the front of his pants. Her fingers moved worshipfully. She kissed the
shirt hanging over his belly as she slowly pulled open his pants and
freed them from his hips. His thighs were thick. She slid Vic’s shorts
down his trunk-like thighs, leaving him in his underpants. His cock,
stuck inside his Hanes, was all coiled up, like a captured snake
yearning to break free of its cage.
“You have hairy legs,” Juliet said, kneeling in front of Vic.
I giggled again. My blouse undone, hanging open in front, I reached
back and unzipped my skirt. With my own hands I slipped it down my
smooth, long legs.
I don’t know whether it was submission to Glenda and Juliet
that caused me to strip, or gazing at Vic. He was very handsome.
Juliet got him to step out of his shorts, leaving just his underpants
and his shirt on, and neatly folded the knee-length shorts and put them
over the chair where his jacket hung. Then, ignoring, for the moment,
his Hanes, she stood and began lovingly undoing the buttons of his
shirt. I watched her bare bottom, neatly framed by her black gown,
wiggling as she flicked open his buttons.
“When we get you completely undressed, we’re going to spray
pheromones all over you,” Glenda told Vic. “Another reason why you’ve
got to strip-- so we can prepare your body.”
“What’re pheromones?” Vic asked. He reached for the bottle of
liquor he’d been taking swigs from. It was sitting on the counter next
to us.
“Sex scent,” Juliet said, undoing the last of Vic’s buttons.
She eased his shirt off and bent and kissed his chest. “Its odorless,
but your brain picks it up all the same. You’ll drive all the ladies
wild, in the next room. And perhaps even a few of the men.” Glenda
took Vic’s shirt and hung it over the chair where his jacket and short
pants were. Only his Hanes remained on him. Juliet now stroked again
the bulge of his cock, the fullness of his balls, with her small
fingers. Her fingertips traced the outline of his penis-head lying
tumescent and huge beneath the fabric of his Hanes. Kneeling, she
kissed his stomach, bare lips to bare flesh. The print of her lips was
left on his skin when she drew away her mouth. She moved her head
lower. Opening her mouth wide, she clasped the trapped cockhead in his
underpants with her teeth.
“Hey! These shorts aren’t edible,” Vic said.
Glenda moved close. She slipped behind Vic. She ran her
fingers from the height of his shoulders down his back to the waistline
of his underpants.
“My, you have such a nice tan,” Glenda said. “Have you been
lying on the beach?”
“Yeah,” Vic said. “I’m a lifeguard.”
“Oh,” Glenda said. “Such a deep tan. How’s your ass? Is it
tanned to?” She yanked down the back of his Hanes. “Oh, my. You’re as
white as a bunny rabbit’s tail back here,” she said, peeking into his
shorts.
“I told you. I work on the beach. I can’t sit there naked,”
Vic said. Glenda patted his fanny. “Such sweet, small buns. God, they
feel like steel!”
“Ooops!” Juliet, in front, said. She had managed to liberate
his cock. Her small hands had pulled down his shorts for a peek within,
and it had popped out. It quivered in the air, big and thick and
muscular and waggling like a long sausage in front of her curious face.
It bumped her nose. A stain of pre-cum wet her nose.
“God, you’re big,” Juliet said worshipfully.
“He’s *too* big,” I agreed, gaping at him. Nonetheless,
perhaps out of pure lust, I yanked down my panties. I stood there
looking at him, my panties around my thighs, ringing my legs between my
knees and my bush. I thrust my hips forward. I presented my dell to
him, even as I remarked that he was so big I’d never consider being his
lover. My unbuttoned shirt hung from my shoulders. It showed my bra
where it connected between my boobs.
Glenda, standing behind Vic, drew his underpants down his
legs. Juliet, hearing me, stood up. She turned. She tossed back her
hair and sauntered over to me. She smiled and reached for my blouse.
It fell off my frail shoulders and down my arms. I let go of my panties
and she slipped it past my hands. Folding it, she laid it up on the
counter. She picked up my miniskirt off the floor. She placed it on
top of my blouse.
“You have nice taste in underwear,” Juliet complimented me.
She stepped behind me and undid the clasp of my bra. She eased the
bra’s straps off my slim shoulders. My tits wobbled freely. “Oh!
You’ve got a big pair for 13,” Juliet said of my breasts. She smiled
and drew my bra down my arms. Then she tossed it up onto the counter.
She knelt by me and pulled my panties down my legs. “You’ve a pretty
dell,” she said. She lifted her face and smiled at me as she helped me
step, in my high heels, out of the panties ringing my feet. “Have lots
of boys enjoyed it?” she asked.
“Not too many,” I gulped.
“How about your bottom?” Glenda, standing by Vic, asked me.
“Nope,” I said.
“You’ve never been penetrated back here?” Juliet asked. She
put her pointing finger behind me and pressed in at the juncture of my
two nether cheeks. I wiggled.
“One or two times,” I admitted.
“Oh, good!” Glenda said. “Then both of you are broken in to
the arts of love. Fit and healthy for it. You will make two perfect
cupids!”
“How am I supposed to get into these?” Vic asked. He had
stepped into the edible undershorts and was pulling them up his thighs.
It was obvious, just from looking, that his big, hard penis would never
manage to get into the shorts.
“Oh-- I suppose you’re to put them on before you become erect,”
Glenda said, turning her head and looking with frank eyes at his dick.
“Can you lose your stiffie for a minute? Then you should be able to get
them on. I purchased the largest size.”
“How am I supposed to stop being hard?” Vic said. There was
exasperation in his voice. He stood with the edible shorts, which
looked like Speedos, wrapped uncomfortably around the tops of his
thighs.
“Wait. Don’t pull them up yet,” Glenda said. “Let me spray
some pheromones on you.” She picked up a bottle off the counter. It
looked like a bottle of cologne. It was yellow in color. It had a
squeeze-ball attached so that its contents could be squirted out in a
fine mist over the body. She put the nozzle of the bottle close to
Vic’s hairy chest. She squeezed the applicator ball. A jet of cologne
was released. It settled in a fine spray onto Vic’s chest. She
squirted his belly. She walked behind him and squirted his ass. She
put the cologne back on the counter and picked up a jar of cream. “Now
for this,” she said.
“What is it?” Vic asked.
“It’s cream, silly,” Glenda said, self-consciously. She dipped
two fingers into the cream and touched his big penis.
“Why are you putting cream on my dick?” Vic said.
“This is benzocaine,” Glenda said. “It will help you maintain
yourself, no matter what happens to your penis. We wouldn’t want you
spoiling the party by spurting as soon as you walk into the other room.”
“It says ManDelay on the side of the jar,” Vic said, squinting
down at what Glenda was holding.
“Yes. To prevent untimely or premature emission of your
ejaculate,” Glenda agreed. Her small fingers smoothed the cream along
Vic’s big cock.
“But you need me to lose my erection so I can get the shorts
on!” Vic said, exasperated. He tugged at the shorts ringing his legs.
“Not by cumming, dear,” Glenda said. “I want you to keep your
balls nice and full throughout our festivities.” She reached between
his legs and smoothed her creamy fingertips across his hairy eggs.
“There. I’ll put some on your testicals, as well as your dick. You
know this party is all about the loins, don’t you? All our games will
center around them. Your penis and balls will be subjected to a lot of
pleasurable stresses and I expect you to hold on to your seed until the
appropriate time for spending. At the end of the night,” Glenda smiled.
“God, this is making me horny,” Vic confessed. “I’m glad I
don’t have to get up early tomorrow to go do my lifeguarding.”
“So am I,” Glenda said. She finished putting the ManDelay on
his cock.
“Do I need some of that?” I asked from across the kitchen.
“You’re a girl, dear. You don’t have a big thing that shoots
sperm out all over the place,” Juliet told me. She patted my tummy.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Boys are quite messy.”
“Quite,” Juliet said. She tied on my edible bra. it was
little more than a decoration. Twin squares of candied fabric, shaped
like triangles, fitted over my nipples. They covered little else. The
whole underside of each of my tits remained bare. As for the upper half
of each of my bosoms, the triangle of edible cloth covered a portion of
each, but the rest was totally nude. I gazed down at myself and
blushed. Juliet tied my bra behind my back and neck.
“There. Now for the panties,” Juliet said. I shook my hair.
I gazed down at my breasts. The slightest movement of my body made them
wiggle. My bra barely restrained them. I tugged on the plaid
neckerchief which Juliet had left tied around my neck. It would be a
reminder to the other guests of how I’d been dressed before, making me
look even sexier now. I wondered if she’d give me permission to take
off the neckerchief and tie it over my bosoms. Slim and insubstantial
as it was, It would nevertheless cover more than the candy bra did.
“Don’t untie it,” Juliet said, taking my fingers from my
kerchief.
“I want to use it for a bra,” I said. “This one you’ve tied on
me is useless.”
“Wait’ll you see the panties,” Juliet smirked. “Don’t fool
with your attire. You’re supposed to drive everyone crazy when they see
you.”
“I don’t want them eating my underwear,” I said.
Juliet tied the panties around my hips. They were extremely
small. In front, a miniscule triangle barely concealed my pubic hair.
Several wisps of my fleecy dell managed to escape the top hem of the
candy panty. In back, an equally small triangle of edible fabric
struggled to contain the cheeks of my bottom. It failed miserably.
Only the bottomhalf of my bottom was covered, and then barely more than
the crack. All the rest of my ass wiggled in raw nudity. Side ties,
slender strings wrapped round my hips, held my candied panties aloft.
“My neckerchief is the only real piece of clothing I’m
wearing!” I lamented.
“Yes,” Juliet agreed. “Now, to go with your pink underwear, we
have little heart-shaped earrings. Take off the ones you’ve got on, and
I’ll pin these on you.”
“I don’t wanna,” I complained.
Glenda, across the room, drew a riding crop from a drawer.
“Be good,” she told me. “Or I’ll use this on your bottom.”
She waved the crop at me.
“What’s that for?” Vic asked.
“I’m going to whack your ass with this to try to get you to
lose your erection for a moment,” Glenda said. “We’ve got to get your
shorts pulled up over your dick.”
“I can just walk out like this, if you like,” Vic offered.
“Too rude,” Glenda said. “There will be time for gauche
displays, but they must not occur quite so suddenly. Bend over. I’m
going to whack your ass.”
“Mind if I pee first?” Vic asked, eyeing the crop.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” Glenda said.
“Yeah. I think I drank too much,” Vic said.
“Hmmm, the bathroom is on the other side of the party room,”
Glenda said. “I can’t have you walk out there looking like that, with
your dick hanging out of your shorts.” She considered a moment, her
crop in one hand, her other hand lifted to her chin. “Come here,” she
said suddenly. “Come with me over to the window. I think I know just
where you can relieve yourself.
I was putting on my earrings, feeling most embarrassed by the
brevity of my costume, when I saw Glenda throw up the sash on her
kitchen window. It was a large bay window that opened onto a garden.
Its sill stood at waist height.
“Put yourself right here and you can water my flowers for me,”
Glenda told Vic. He walked up to the newly opened window. His face
bent down. He looked at himself. He rested his forehead against the
glass that comprised the upper half of the window. The lower half had
been raised, letting fresh air into the room. Feeling the fresh air on
his belly and cock, he stuck his erection out through the window.
“That’s it,” Glenda said. She patted his bare behind. “Go ahead. Pee
on my flowers.”
I heard a pissing sound. Juliet and I rushed over to the
window to watch. She got there ahead of me. I found myself staring at
Vic’s ass. His legs were spread manfully, as if he were dominating a
urinal with his stance. His hand, on his cock, guided his stream.
Glenda stood on one side of him, admiring his pee. Juliet stood on his
other side. I couldn’t see. I wanted to. Impulisvely, I ducked down
between Vic’s spread legs. Like a curious kitten I emerged on the other
side. My nose bumped his balls and I looked with wide eyes at his big
penis peeing into the garden. Glenda and Juliet laughed.
“She’s got the best seat in the house,” Glenda said.
Vic’s stream attacked the flowers. He peed on daisies, on
violets, into the cups of daffodils. He urinated with a big grin on his
face, perhaps fulfilling some boyhood fantasy of peeing on his own
mother’s flowers. When he was done he shook his big cock.
“There,” Glenda said, watching Vic with interest. “All done?”
“Yeah,” Vic said. “I needed that.”
“I was afriad you might try to, well, you know, jerk yourself
off,” Glenda said. He looked at her.
“Don’t lie,” Vic said. “You know I’m not that young. You’re a
slut and you wanted to watch me.”
“I’m not a slut,” I piped up, gazing at his penis as it stuck
itself out the window right in front of my nose. Vic looked down at me.
“You’re a chipmunk, I suppose?” Vic asked. “Are you admiring
my two nuts?”
“Yes. I need them for the winter,” I said. Glenda laughed.
“And it will be a long winter, won’t it, little one?”
“Mmmmm,” I agreed. I smacked my lips.
“Stand up. I’ve got to spray some pheromones on you, so you’ll
make all the men wild with desire,” Juliet told me. She reachd down,
caught my arm, pulled on it.
“My bikini is doing that already,” I protested.
“You’ve got a great body,” Vic said to me. I blushed.
“You’ve got a great-- thingie,” I replied. I reached out my
small hand and touched its tip. “Why does it have slick cream spread
all over it?” I asked.
“So he doesn’t cum when little girls grab his dick,” Glenda
said. She batted my hand away.
Vic was led away from the window. As I had pheromones sprayed
on me, Glenda bent Vic over to try whacking his ass to reduce his
erection.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Went the crop, making bright red lines
on Vic’s bare behind, but his penis stayed just as hard as ever.
“Perhaps ice will do it,” Glenda said. She got out a cube and
ran it over Vic’s penis. Again, no luck.
“Try having a man come in for a moment,” Juliet suggested. Vic
stood rubbing his bottom.
“This is ridiculous,” Vic said. “And my ass hurts!” Glenda
passed a dish towel over his dick to wipe off the fluid left behind by
the ice. She relubed his big cock with more ManDelay.
“I’ll get him!” I said. I dashed for the kitchen door, before
they could stop me. Opening it, I peeked out. “We need a man!” I
cried. There was laughter in the room.
“What are you doing in there?” a bearded man asked.
“Come in and see,” I said. I beckoned him with a finger. He
walked over to the kitchen door. Other men made to follow. “Just one,”
I said. I opened the door wider, and let in the man with the beard.
Then I closed it and locked it.
“God, what’s going on in here?” the bearded man asked. He
gazed at me in my edible undies, then at Vic.
“Come over here and give him a rectal exam,” Juliet said to the
man. Glenda smirked, looked at her friend.
“Clever,” Glenda said. “It might work.”
“What do I need a rectal exam for?” Vic cried. He was still
rubbing his ass.
“We’ve got to get your pants on, dear,” Glenda said. “Are you
gay?”
“No,” Vic said.
“Then having a man make you bend over, and sticking his finger
up your ass, might soften you just enough to get your shorts pulled up
over your big stiffie,” Juliet said.
“Well,” the bearded man said. “I’m glad I volunteered. I’m
not gay, per say. But I am bi. There’s nothing I’d like better than to
be able to shove my finger up that boy’s tight ass and see how he
feels.”
“Yikes!” Vic said. The bearded man advanced toward the boy.
Glenda and Juliet kept their eyes on Vic’s cock.
“Bend over,” the bearded man said to Vic.
“I don’t want to,” Vic said.
“Do it, or I’ll whack your ass with this crop,” Glenda told
Vic.
“Oh, damn. I should slam both you ladies down on the floor
and--” Vic groused. He put his hands on the kitchen counter.
“Be good,” Juliet told him. “Just do as we say. It’s for a
noble purpose.”
“Let me see your ass,” the bearded man told Vic. The boy, his
hands already on the counter top, replied: “You can see it.”
“You know what I mean,” the bearded man said. “Bend. Way
over. Spread your legs. Assume the position.”
“Shit!” Vic said. He bent lower, his hands pressed to the
countertop. His big balls shivered between his legs.
“Have you been disobedient?” the bearded man asked Vic, seeing
his ass red from the crop.
“She-- she whacked me with it,” Vic said.
“No doubt it was deserved,” the bearded man said. “And this
will be too.” He put his hands on Vic’s bottom. He spread the boy’s
cheeks.
“There!” Glenda said. She grabbed the front of Vic’s
underpants. With a mighty pull, she yanked them up over his suddenly
softened cock.
“It worked!” Juliet cried.
The bearded man stood with his hands on Vic’s ass.
“Don’t I get to put my finger up him?” the bearded man asked.
“Not now, dear. I’ve gotten his pants on. Pull up the back of
them.”
“We needed to get his pants on and his fear of you softened his
dick just enough to get it done,” Juliet told the bearded man.
“He might need his prostate examined,” the bearded man
offered. “I could easily...”
“No,” Juliet said. She eased the bearded man’s hands off Vic’s
behind. “Thank you. We just needed to get his pants on. You may go
now.”
“Perhaps later,” Glenda said. She stepped behind Vic,
protectively, and pulled up the back of his pants.
“Are you sure?” the bearded man asked.
“Yes, we’re very fucking sure!” Vic said. He turned around.
“Faggot!” he said to the man.
“Don’t insult me,” the bearded man said. “I helped you get
your pants on.”
I looked at Vic’s edible undies. They were brief, so small
they barely covered his pubic bush in front. His cock, re-enlarged
since the pants had been pulled into place, grew into the front of his
shorts like a ravenous snake hungry to strike. His testicals weighed
heavily into the underside of his shorts. I wondered if the weight of
them would tear open his pants. Curious to see him from behind, I
walked round him and looked at his bottom. Half of his white ass was
covered. The suit was too short to cover the rest. White and bare, it
stuck up out of the back of his suit. The upper half of his crack
showed. I counted the red lines on his ass where he’d been whipped.
Glenda walked over to her refrigerator. She opened her
freezer. She called Juliet over and together they drew forth a cake.
It was large, covered with white frosting. It had red curlicues of
icing running along its sides. I walked over to it and gazed at it.
The top of the cake was decorated with red hearts. Glenda got out a box
of candles from a drawer.
“It’s an ice cream cake,” she said. “Pralines and cream in one
layer, chocolate chip mint in the next.” She and Juliet poked candles
into the top of the cake. Then Juliet lit them.
“A candle for each of us,” Glenda said. There were 12 in all.
When the candles had been lit, Glenda took out a box of candy canes.
She quickly stripped the cellophane off six of them and stabbed them
into the cake, so that they stood upright. Finishing, she stepped
back. “There,” Glenda said, admiring her handiwork. Gazing at the
cake, I thought the big fat candycanes she’d put into the top of it,
each larger than the candles, looked rather like penises. “The two of
you will carry the cake out,” Glenda said to myself and Vic. “Do you
think you can carry it, Chloe?” she asked me.
“I hope so,” I said. My eyes were bright. “I like ice cream!”
“Good,” Glenda said. “Go ahead, then. The two of you pick it
up.” She looked at Vic. She picked up her riding crop. “Don’t worry,
I won’t hit you with it,” she told Vic. “Unless you drop my cake, of
course.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t!” Vic said. He hefted the cake all by
himself.
“No,” Juliet said. “Let her help. Chloe must carry it too.
This isn’t a gay party. That’s why we’ve got both you and her playing
cupid. Chloe?” she said, and pointed to the cake. I went over to it
and Vic put half of the big cake into my outstretched hands.
“OooF! It’s heavy,” I admitted.
“But not too heavy?” Juliet asked, hopefully.
“Not if we hoirry,” I said. My bosoms wobbled as immeidately
Vic began moving forward with the cake. I struggled along beside him.
The bearded man, watching us both with eager eyes, opened the kitchen
door for us. We carried the cake out into the party room.
Whoops and hollars arose when the guests saw us. A woman began
clapping and everyone joined in. I saw my aunt. I blushed. She put
her hand to her mouth, suppressed a laugh, and smiled at me.
“Where should we put it?” I groaned to Vic. My panties quickly
became trapped in my ass, showing my cheeks entirely, as I strove to
keep from dropping the cake. My bosoms jiggled in their too-small
cups. I worried they might pop free.
“Over here. On the table,” Vic said. He called out to
someone: “Move that shit out of the way!” A woman hurried over to the
snack table and picked up the tray of veggies and set it up on the wet
bar.
We put down the cake. I let out a whoosh of air from my lungs
with relief. Vic smiled at me.
“You should join a moving company,” he told me.
“Thanks a lot,” I said. I reached back and prised my undies
out of my ass.
“Very good,” Glenda said, walzing into the room. Juliet walked
beside her. Her long black formal gown trailed on the floor. Men and
women gazed with interest at her fanny as she passed them. Her bare
behind was a delightful surprise.
“May we eat now?” Juliet asked. Discreetly she picked up a
plate from the end of the table, and a fork.
“First we must have someone blow out the candles,” Glenda told
her partner.
“I will!” I said. I raised my hand. Glenda smiled at me. She
fingered her crop.
“Very well,” Glenda said. “But I must tell you the rules. If
you fail to blow out any of the candles, I’m going to give your bottom
one spank.”
“Oh!” I said.
“Don’t back out now,” Vic told me.
“I want to try, if she doesn’t make it,” Juliet told Glenda.
The woman turned and gazed at her friend.
“Very well,” Glenda said. A sly smile came to her mouth.
Juliet blushed.
WHOOOOOSH! I bent forward and blew as hard as I could. But I
didn’t move my face around enough, or didn’t have enough air in me, or
something, because one of the candles, seemingly extinguished, flared to
life again.
“Oh, no!” I cried. “I got all but one of them!” I looked
desperately at Glenda. “Isn’t that good enough?” I asked. Vic walked
up behind me.
“No,” Vic said. There was passion in his voice. His hands ran
down my back and fingered the seat of my panties. “May I?” he asked.
“Let her,” Glenda told Vic.
Trembling, I reached back behind myself.
“Oh, please not too hard!” I told Glenda. I pulle down the
back of my panties. She gazed at my ass with admiration.
“My, so pretty and white,” Glenda said. “And you have such a
nice tan, otherwise. You need a good swatting back her, to give you
some color.”
“No I don’t!” I yelled. But it was too late. As I stood with
my fanny bared, my hands clutching my pulled down panties, Glenda drew
back her crop and struck. “Ooooch!” I shouted. My panties still
covered my dell in front and to assauge the pain, I put one of my hands
to my cunny and rubbed it hard. A bloom of pleasure flowered in me,
distracting me from the bite of the cut. With my other hand I reached
back and rubbed my hurt bottom.
“She’s frigging herself!” Juliet said.
“That’s not allowed. Even for girls who are only 13,” Glenda
said. Vic grabbed my hand from my ass and lifted it, baring my bottom.
Glenda brought down her crop again.
“Youchchch!” I gritted. I frisked my dell harder.
“Stop, I say!” Glenda ordered me. She hit me again.
“Yikes!” I shouted. I yanked my hand away from my cunny and
put it over my ass. “Stop!” I begged.
“Very good,” Glenda told me. “Let that be a lesson to you.”
She turned to her friend. “Juliet? Please re-light the candles. Then
it will be your turn to try to blow them all out.”
It was only after Juliet had tried, and failed, and had a
bright red crop-line imprinted on her nude bottom, that Vic figured out
that pesky last candle was special.
“It’s one of those trick candles!” Vic said. “It relights no
matter how many times you blow on it!” He blew hard. It ceased
burning. Seconds later, it flamed to life again.
“No fair!” Juliet, rubbing her ass, said to Glenda. The woman
laughed.
“I’m afraid I’ve fooled you both,” Glenda said. “You may
punish me later for it. But, since this is my party, we’re going to
proceed for now to the next item on the agenda.”
“Which is?” Juliet asked, ruefully.
“If you want a piece of cake, you must first take off your
clothes,” Glenda smiled.
“I don’t want any, then,” I said.
“Ah, Chloe,” Glenda said, eyeing me. “You will have cake,
young lady. But first, as an inspiration to our guests, before you may
eat cake, you must undress Vic. With your mouth,” she said. She waved
her riding crop at me. She looked at the others. “Remember, folks.
This cake is made of ice cream. If you want anything other than melted
mush, you’ll have to undress quickly. And be polite, please. I haven’t
given anyone permission for sex yet. We’ll eat and mingle just as
before, but without any clothes on, that’s all.”
“Must we take everything off?” a woman asked.
“If you have even a stitch left on you, you get no cake,”
Glenda said. “Eat carefully. Inside each slice of cake will be a small
key. It will be needed for admittance to our private party room, where
I’ll be checking for keys at the door.”
Kisses were exchanged as couples began disrobing. Glenda
called out that we should be bold, and disrobe someone other than the
lover who’d brought us. In my case, I’d only come with my aunt. Gazing
around, I saw she’d found a man and a woman who both began stripping
her. She laughed, did not see my inquiring eyes, and eagerly pulled at
the woman’s dress.
Vic drew me aside. Several couples stood watching us.
“Eat my pants,” Vic told me.
“You wish,” I told him. Vic reached out with his big hands.
He grabbed my head. “Yeek!” I cried. He forced me to kneel. He put my
mouth to the front of his bulging shorts. “Free my penis with your
teeth,” Vic said.
I bit him. Not hard, just enough to make him grimace. He
continued pressing my head to his loins, bravely, and said: “Not my
dick. Just the pants over my dick.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. He was so big and close, his manhood
straining to break free, that I suddenly felt sorry for him. I licked
his groin. I bit more carefully.
“Yes,” Vic said. I worked at his shorts with my teeth. They
tasted good. His snakelike cock moved within his pants.
“Ooook!” I cried suddenly. I’d bitten a hole in his shorts big
enough for his cock to suddenly pop out of. It waggled in front of me.
“Very nice,” I heard a woman say, complimenting me. Vic
dropped to his knees.
“Thanks,” Vic breathed to me. He bent and gnawed at my tits.
“Hey!” I shouted.
“I’ve got to undress you too, girl,” Vic said. “Dont’ wiggle
or I’ll bite your nipples.”
30
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