Message-ID: <1154eli$9706031235@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: Andrew Roller Subject: Chambers of Love part 18 of 18 (NND) --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in CHAMBERS OF LOVE _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Eighteen A chubby-cheeked moon was already overhead when we arrived. Its plumpness reminded me of my bottom. All around us the sere landscape was illuminated by its light. There was nothing for miles. Just cacti, standing bold and prickly, casting long moonlit shadows across the sand. And the errant tumbleweed, pausing in its never-ending journey across the Mexican desert. Julie and I stepped from her car and followed a narrow path up to the brightly lit hacienda. On the jet back toward home I'd worn an exquisitely sexy outfit. A black, above-the-knee skirt hugged my hips. A tight little top, matching the skirt, clung to my breasts and torso. It had no sleeves, and a very low neckline. A matching hat completed my outfit, plus heels. Beneath I wore only panties, no bra. On the plane I sat next to a Spanish gentleman, who took a great interest in my outfit. I think what intrigued him most was that the upper halves of my areolas peeped continuously out of my decollete top. We were in first class, otherwise I would never have worn such a naughty outfit. The whole trip he kept waiting, with baited breath, for my nipples to pop out entirely. But they never quite did, although I almost lost them a few times, when I moved abruptly. Julie sat across from him, on the other side of the aisle. Not as provocatively dressed as me, she did, nonetheless, catch his eye. I wasn't out to attract any man in particular. I just felt exuberant and wanted to "push the limits" with my attire. Turn a few married men's heads and annoy their stuffy wives. Helga, though, intercepted the Spanish gentleman in the kitchen area at the back of first class. She was intent on arranging something profitable with him. "Oh, are you with them?" I heard the gentleman say to her, before their voices lowered. When we landed and disembarked she reported happily to us that we'd been invited to a party at the gentleman's. "Really, Helga, you must simply get over the idea that our bodies are for sale," Julie demurred. I agreed. "Not for sale, darlings, such a nasty way to put it," Helga countered. "Available, to only the finest gentlemen, in the plushest of surroundings. Really, I cannot see how you can refuse. He's agreed to pay our way through to Mexico, and put us up in a fine hotel that will be entirely of our choosing. And he’s given us a week's spending money. All for your attendance for one night at a party at his hacienda. He was most impressed with your beauty." "I'll say!" Julie gasped, adding up all the “charges” in her head. I could see that already she was softening to the idea. "It might be fun," Helga offered with a knowing smile. "Wealthy, hot-blooded Spanish gentry," I said, turning over each word with my tongue, finding myself wanting to suck upon them. "Helga, I wish you wouldn't go out of your way to meet men for us!" Julie said, turning to her abruptly. She was flushed, flustered. She was caving in. And so it was with a delicate knock that Julie and I made known our presence at the hacienda. Helga was not with us. The arrangement had been made for only Julie and I. A chill desert breeze pricked at our skin. We waited. A coyote howled in the distance. Then, opening the door slowly, a stooped-over, elderly Mexican woman let us in. She regarded us. Then she beckoned us forward to a room where men were laughing. Opening the door to the room she urged us inside. We stepped in. Half a dozen men smiled as they saw us, welcomed us with eager gentility. They occupied a large room with sumptuous divans and ottomans, complete with a wet bar. A young Spanish girl in an abbreviated maid's costume stood at the bar, dutifully mixing drinks, her head bowed submissively. Heavy drapes, richly embroidered, were drawn shut against the desert night, against the bright high-flying moon. Fresh drinks were passed to us from the bar and we graciously accepted them from the nearest men. Our suitor on the airplane introduced us, by our first names only. Julie and I were all dolled up in clinging, low cut gowns that shimmered with our every movement. After we'd met each of the men our host, named Alex, asked us if we were ready to party. We said we were. With polished grace Julie turned and unzipped my dress in back. I wiggled and it glimmered its way down my body, pooling around my ankles on the plush carpet. I stepped out of the $2,000 gown as if from discarded Jockey shorts. Then I turned and did Julie. A moment later we stood before the men, and they were most delighted with our party clothes. I wore a pink corset. The edges were trimmed with ribbon and little pink bows. It was laced in front, very tightly. Cupping my breasts, it just covered my nipples, leaving the tops of my areolas enchantingly visible. The constricting corset descended to just above the wisps of my pubis, which it left uncovered. It was shorter behind and left my bottom completely free. Cinched so tightly about my waist, the corset actually made my bare bottom stick out like some overripe pumpkin. Alex expressed an interest in the effect and I turned about to let him see. "Ah, that is why I love seeing women in difficult clothing," he said admiringly. "You girls would never wear such outfits if it weren't for us men wanting them, would you?" "Not likely," Julie said. Her voice came breathily. She was cinched as tight as a drum. Her corset could not quite contain her womanly bosoms. The upper halves of her areolas along with her pointed nipples overflowed the top, where tightly drawn cups of thin lace had been forced to give way to them. Garters clung snugly to a pair of long semi-sheer stockings that sheathed my legs, right down to my booties with their decorative buckles. My stockings were pink, the booties white patent leather. Julie was similarly attired, in colors of violet and blue. "Sir," Julie said expectantly. "As you can see we have no panties. You promised you'd give us something upon our arrival?" "Ah, yes!" Alex replied. He presented us each with a color-coordinated G-string. Daintily I stepped into mine, as did Julie with hers. I pulled it up around my hips and looked down at it. Rope-like it dropped in front over my mound, utterly failing to cover it. Threading through the lips of my cunt it ascended through the clenching of my bottom crack to rejoin my string-wide waistband in back. There was nothing more. Yet I found that I could spread it open slightly with my finger tips where it crossed through my cunt, forming a little gusset of sorts that just barely enclasped my labia lips within it. "Yes, that will form your diaper," Alex told me. "My-my diaper?!" I asked, shocked. Julie had just covered her own cunt with the makeshift gusset and looked up in alarm as well. "Did you not know?" Alex asked us. "We have only one bathroom, right over there, and it is unfortunately a men's room. You girls will have to wear diapers...little adult diapers that suit your attire." He glanced meaningfully at our G-strings. "However, there is the matter of your bowels. Adult diapers like you are wearing now cannot hold back a bowel movement. Therefore each of you will be fitted with a butt-plug prior to partying with us men this evening. Did you know that having something inside your rectum while you are being fucked in the pussy adds immeasurably to your pleasure, and that of your lover? A sidelight I thought I'd mention." He produced two well-greased butt plugs, thin but rather longish. "Kindly bend over and pull down your G-strings in back, girls. I must get these up you before we can begin partying in earnest." With very great reluctance Julie and I drew down our G-strings in back, hooking them under the cheeks of our bottoms. Then the men led us to the nearest settee, of bright red and yellow fabric, and pushed us over its back, so that we were standing on our tiptoes. Gasping within the confines of my corset, my elbows found the seat cushions in the front of the sofa and gratefully rested upon them. My hair fell about my face. Julie's head plopped down beside mine. My legs were roughly separated, into a bold vee. I turned my toes inward, desperately trying to keep them in contact with the floor. Julie's legs were opened next. Speaking gentle words to us, Alex had men forcefully spread our bottoms. I felt the cool air of the room touch my anus. Beneath me I noticed that my nipples had popped out of my corset. I was like Julie now. Nothing remained hidden, save my lately covered labia...in my diaper. A cold film was applied around the ring of my anus. It grew warm as the finger applying it circled, lovingly. Then the tip of a tube was gently inserted within me there and a long ejaculation of creme shot up my ass. I mewled in protest at the unwanted anointing. My bowels did not wish to be baptized. The tip went to Julie next, she shared in my plight. I felt the intruder then. Snub nosed, of india rubber, probing expectantly against the tightness of my anal ring. "Oooch!" I said suddenly, and my cherry was popped, my ring opened anew. Julie cried out as her own bottom was breached. We were told to pull up our panties then...our diapers. Reaching back, still over the couch, I yanked up my G-string. Julie was equally happy to get hers up. I stood with difficulty, the men helping me. Bow-leggedly I regarded the new sensation in my innards. My guts were well plugged, my anus distended, bottom cheeks moulded about their intrusive new friend. Julie stood gaping, looking from one man to the next. We were given fresh drinks and told to swallow all. "Bottoms up, girls," Alex said of our glasses. "I'm having the liquor content cut back so you can enjoy yourselves without getting sleepy. Please drink as much as you can! And now I think a relaxing game of shuffleboard would be in order after our strenuous preliminaries. Gentlemen, ladies?" A curtain was drawn back, revealing a narrow space with a shuffleboard painted on a polished wooden floor. Julie and I were invited to go first, competing against one another. The winner would play against a male guest, we were told. The loser would have her fanny smacked. Spraddle-legged and huffing in our corsets, Julie and I played shuffleboard. Julie lost, and was promptly put over Alex's knee and given a dozen "well deserved" slaps on her rump. It was blushingly red when he finally let her stand up. She rubbed it briskly. I soon lost to a male guest and he gave me a spanking just as Julie had suffered. Red-bottomed, we were now ordered to play hopscotch. A slab of cement was revealed behind another curtained wall, complete with a stone and chalk. Bending down, nearly crushing our tummies in our corsets, we were forced to draw out a hopscotch pattern on the cold slab. Our bosoms burst completely from the confines of our corsets as we worked. They jiggled merrily, oblivious to our torment, happy to be free. We played out two rounds of hopscotch, and were spanked afterward for our errors. Then more drinks were served and we were urged to indulge ourselves on snacks which the Spanish girl brought around on a silver tray. "Keep your energy up, you know," Alex reminded us. We stood munching on cheese-laden celery sticks and bits of toothpick-speared beef as the men chatted amiably around us. This was definitely not a party I'd seen the likes of before. Alex reached out and touched a finger between my legs, which I'd been bidden to always keep at least a foot apart. I felt a tingle of pleasure as he rubbed my gusset-covered cunny. "Still dry, I see," he observed. Simultaneously he felt Julie. Then he ordered more drinks for us and waited while we swallowed down every drop. "Good girl," the Spanish lass said to me when I was done, patting my bottom. She took my glass. Then she complimented Julie in the same way and took her empty glass also. She sashayed back to the bar, her bottom peeping out from under a very short leather skirt. "You'll get to know her better later," Alex assured us. "Her name is Ophelia. She's very loyal. My best maid." The party progressed next through a series of card games, played around a low coffee table. Julie and I were allowed to sit on a sofa like the other guests, but we were made to keep our knees wide apart. Occasionally Alex reached over and felt our gussets. Slowly a need to pee began building within me and I found it harder and harder to keep my legs spread. Alex told me he'd introduce my ass to the riding crop if I put my legs together. More and more, as the card game idled along, this time being a long version of bridge, I burned to pee. Julie dropped her hand at one point and pleaded to go to the bathroom. She was denied. I put a hand to my pussy and squeezed it. No relief. Julie did the same. Within minutes we were sitting there, before half a dozen strange men, with our thighs compressed tightly together and our fingers mashing our cunts. Our eyes bulged, our cheeks were puffed. We squirmed like toddlers. "Tsk! Tsk! Such an expensive couch you girls are sitting on, you know," Alex observed. "I hope I've given you big enough diapers. That's Ophelia's favorite couch and she'd be quite upset if you emptied your bladders on it." Julie and I grimaced. I squeezed my eyes shut, opened them. With a sudden realization I noticed my g-string was no longer dry. The spot on the couch where my fanny rested wasn't dry either. In shock I looked down and found myself peeing! My body had taken over, taken its own course. I tried to stop the flow but it came out lustily, a full bladder behind it, urging it on through my peehole. Julie gasped and looked down at herself. Spurred by my example, her body had followed my lead. Squishing our pussies with our fingertips we tried to hold back the flow, failed. We gazed at Alex's stern demeanor with bleak eyes. Alex ordered the men to remove all of their clothing. He told us to "sit tight." I watched in wonder as the group of dark, handsome men stripped themselves to their skin. They sat around us with their cocks and balls casually displayed. They complimented one another on their attributes. Ophelia entered the room. Her maid's costume was gone and she was utterly nude. Her only adornment was a riding crop, which she held lightly in her hand, between her lovely young breasts. It pointed stiffly up at her face and she toyed with its loop with her tongue. "Sir," she lisped over the leather tip of the crop to Alex. "I'm ready for my punishment." With small, almost tentative steps, yet exuding a kind of erotic confidence, she advanced with her wicked toy into the midst of the men. She was young, frail, a twig of a girl, yet with superb bosoms. Except for her lightly olive-colored skin she reminded me very much of myself. I who sat wet, shuddering, and frightened upon the couch, vainly trying to cover myself with my hands. The men sat admiring Ophelia for a bit as she stood meekly before them, holding the instrument of her bottom's impending demise. I admired her cheeks from behind. They were white, flawless, two shades lighter than the rest of her, and completely unmarked. They clenched together, then eased, then squeezed themselves together again, sweet round moons glowing softly. The men stood. They formed a semi-circle about her of honed, hairy, in-the-buff brawn. Yet they still merely regarded her, perhaps unsure of who was entitled to her first. Olivia did not look at the men's faces but rather surveyed the thicket of penises which surrounded her. She seemed to examine each one with her gaze, evaluate it, judge it? Was she prey or predator? The men converged more closely upon her. Stiffly they presented their cocks, their manhood, many idly thrusting them at her. Olivia placed a finger lightly upon the head of one, stilling it. She lifted her eyes to the man's face, silently seemed to say, "Settle down, boy, we have all night ahead of us." "Please introduce your lovely pussy to each man's cock," Alex told his maid. Smilingly Ophelia presented her slim hips to the closest man, who grasped them hungrily. He lofted her up until she was on her tip-toes, then settled her tight lips onto the bulging head of his organ. Ophelia gasped as it slipped within her. Yet the man was limited, Alex said, to giving her the head only. Fortunately no one had greased up yet, so there was plenty of natural friction present to slow the entry. The man gripped Ophelia, holding her up, even as she went slack, pretended to swoon. She dangled her hands behind her, as if to more easily slide earthward, right down his big shaft. She wiggled playfully upon the impaling head. With a groan of displeasure the man was forced to lift her off himself before she should make him violate the rules. Ophelia went to the next man and did a similar dance upon the head of his prong. Gradually she was passed from man to man until each had enjoyed a taste of her pussy, and she of his deliciously intrusive penis. Even Alex limited himself to just a teasing probe. Her eyes and his seemed to share a special thought as she entertained his organ. But no words were spoken, save a soft flutter of moans from her and a grunt from him as he tasted her tightness. Alex ordered Julie and I to masturbate ourselves as we watched all this, and we did so, obediently stroking our lips and clittys with a finger. We pulled our panties down to the tops of our thighs to give ourselves free access. By the time Ophelia had mounted her final steed we were in a fluster of impending orgasm. Alex looked at us. Our titties ballooned naked above the shattered tops of our corsets. Our faces were flushed. Our panties were prettily lowered, cunts sweetly moist. Still our legs were sheathed in the finest silk, and our feet shod with new booties. Their decorative buckles gleamed. Uncomfortably we shifted upon the plugs which speared our bottoms. Ophelia turned to us then, said we must accompany her to the woodshed. Conscious of the men's admiring gaze, we rose as gracefully as possible. Julie seemed more ladylike than ever, poised and sleek. She walked before me as we filed out of the room, the men taking up position at our rear, following us. Ophelia led the way. We stepped through a door and out into the stillness of the night. I heard cows lowing in the distance. A tumbleweed lazily rolled by, as if to gawk. We stepped upon flat, shattered flagstones, following them in a path to a weatherbeaten stable. It was small, built for one purpose only. Julie and I stepped inside, big-bottomed in our clenching corsets, following behind the lithe, light-hearted Ophelia, free in her nudity. I spotted a brazier. Its coals glowed brightly. "We brand the cattle here," Ophelia said easily, by way of explanation. As if I wanted one. The men entered and closed the door behind us. It was crowded. I wanted room. There was a space available, where a post stood, festooned with iron manacles. Fresh hay upon the wooden floor there. And before the post a sturdy, leather-topped trestle, waiting perhaps for someone to be draped over it. Julie, ever the sweet young mare in times of crisis, stepped up to the brazier. An iron rod lay within it. With polished grace she slipped on an oven mitt, which hung from the brazier, then lifted the hot iron. "It has your mark upon it, Alex," Julie said softly. The tip of the iron, a little circular brand, glowed luminously. Julie blew gently upon it, as if to cool it. "What do you think of it?" Alex asked. "It is lovely," Julie said of the brand. "I'm sure your cows are very proud to have it upon them." She lifted her eyes to his. They were radiant. Yet tears had formed in the corners. "Where-where do you place the brand?" "The females receive it right upon the bottom," Alex said. Julie considered the brand once more, then quietly replaced it in the brazier. "It must be very hot to do its job," she said. She buried the tip within the blazing coals. Lightly Ophelia took Julie by the elbow, turned her to face the post. Julie shook off her hand. With quiet grace she advanced to the trestle, clad in her booties, her steps still awkward because of the butt plug, yet managing to roll her hips seductively. She smoothed her fingertips across the leather-covered top of the trestle. Ophelia stepped up to her, grasped her by the soft brown locks of her hair. She bent Julie down over the trestle. The glorious moon of Julie's bottom rose as her face was forced toward the floor. Julie's arms were lifted above the back of her head and, sticking out straight in front of her, were shackled to the post. Ophelia gagged her with a strip of soft leather, forcing it between her teeth as a kind of bit. With a skip in her step Ophelia went behind Julie then, and bent and spread her ankles. Julie seemed recalcitrant and Ophelia gave her a light slap on her bottom with her hand. Then the legs were drawn suitably wide, and clamped into irons. Ophelia stood up and admired her handiwork, taking up her riding crop where she'd put it aside and impatiently slapping her flank with it. She tossed her head. Her dark hair moved freely, casually. Alex held me tightly. My panties, never recovered, hung tightly round the tops of my thighs. Julie's panties too remained where she'd slipped them in order to masturbate. They hugged her just beneath the underside of her bottom. I'd heard a tearing sound when her legs were pulled apart and realized now it had been her g-string. Filaments of ripped fiber glimmered here and there along the string. It would not fit her anymore, was just an ornament now, a decoration. Because she had peed she must be washed first, Alex said. He rubbed me idly upon my clitty as he said this, as if to keep me ready for my turn. Ophelia, able-bodied as a farm girl, filled a bucket from a spigot and hoisted it, carried it over to Julie's bottom. With a sponge Ophelia bathed the glorious haunches in ice cold water. Julie flinched and moaned beneath her gag. When the laving was complete Ophelia put the bucket aside. She kissed each wetly gleaming cheek then, lightly, careful to leave no lipstick mark. Alex chilled me to my core a moment later, saying, "You shall do the honors, Kimmy." Roughly he guided me forward to the brazier, fitted my right hand with the mitt, made me pick up the awful brand. He presented me with the spectacle of Julie's helpless, darling young wife's bottom. Ophelia had moved to Julie's head and stood stroking her hair and consoling her. "Poor baby," Ophelia said. "You will jump and dance in a display that will haunt your imagination long after we have forgotten it. Or, rather, your bottom will, all eyes riveted upon it. Didn't your mommie teach you to keep your panties on? To keep your tushy properly covered? Tsk! Tsk! Girls today in their thong bikinis just don't know what they're asking for, do they? And you, you have even taken off your G-string, naughty girl. How brazen you are, showing off your hiney as if it were some work of art. It is nothing but what you poop out of with. Do you think perhaps that you are just going to poop wherever you please, like you do with your pee?" Ophelia's tone belied her words, for she spoke gently, sympathetically, caressing Julie's trim shoulders and glossy hair. Julie clenched and tensed her bottomcheeks, dreading her impending fate...at my hands! "This is what is called a light branding," Alex said, making me weigh and balance the long iron rod in my mitted hand. "A brand must be held against the flesh for a full ten seconds to leave a permanent mark. You, I trust, will not do this. Simply touch the brand to Julie's bottom for a second or so, as if to give her a sunburn there. You will leave a mark but, like a sunburn, it will fade in a few days at most. Stick her repeatedly with the brand, everywhere on her bottom. We find this more fun than a single, searing, permanent moment of ten seconds. Give it to her again and again, until her entire rump proudly bears the mark of my ranch." Finally he warned me that, although I must go next, if I failed to follow his instructions properly I would not only suffer Julie's fate but have my hiney permanently marred. Helpfully he pointed out that the flange of Julie's implanted butt-plug spread out over her anus, covering and protecting it. However he told me to watch out for the peeping lips of her pussy. Those were to be avoided. Hopefully in her bucking and rearing Julie would not cause me to hit them accidentally. Nervous as a lamb at the slaughterhouse I was positioned before Julie's widely-spread, bulging hiney. At Alex's insistence I suddenly shot my wrist forth, sinking the burning brand into Julie's soft ass. "YEEEOWPH!" Julie screamed beneath her gag as I just as suddenly yanked the brand back. Sternly Alex admonished me of my punishment if I failed to carry out his orders. I burst into tears and stuck Julie again with the brand. She leapt upon the trestle, straining the manacles. I planted the brand briefly again, then again, all the while Ophelia happily cooing and consoling Julie. I don't think Julie was even aware of her presence anymore, so hotly did the blazing brand draw her focus to the plight of her bottom. I speared Julie seemingly without mercy then, weeping openly all the while, calling out apologies to her even as I tortured her. Soon Julie's fanny sported the red marks of the ranch all over it. At last I was ordered to stop. Ophelia left her post at Julie's head then and went and got the bucket. She lifted it up and tossed its icy water upon Julie's bottom. There was a big splash and Julie cried out at the coldness, even as her bottom steamed with relief. Julie was let up then, caressed, taken to a bench and made to sit, though she protested loudly as they pressed her emblazoned fanny down upon the wood. They gave her liquor and caressed her hair from her eyes and praised her as one does a woman who has just been in labor. Slowly Julie regained her senses and eventually was thanking them for their many compliments. Three of the men and Ophelia, meanwhile, as we waited for Julie to recover, found a can of Redi-whip in a small fridge. Ophelia was soon the worse for it, her pussy dutifully squirted, then her nipples, and a line of the white stuff run up between the cheeks of her fanny. She managed to do the men next though, grabbing the can from them and making them stand still whilst she completely coated their straining, naked cocks. Then she did their hairy balls, so tightly hung beneath, ready to spurt yet being spurted on instead. Then she turned them about and gave each of their anuses a white cap of foam. I don't think I've ever been in a room that was headier with the scent of lust. No one had been offered the relief of an orgasm. Alex's latest injunction was that no one may come, and that the men must not touch us girls. We were all, including myself, randy beyond belief. We squirmed and presented our loins to one another even as we endeavored to remain obedient to Alex. Men brandished their penises at me as I, in turn, kept my hips well-thrust forward, offering my snatch to any who would dare touch it, but none did. In their desperation some men began stroking each other. This did not seem to violate Alex's rules of engagement, though he wished for them to nonetheless retain their sperm within their jostling testicles. Everywhere I looked I saw the very flower of manhood presented boldly to my eyes, stripped naked and rudely stiff and pulsing. No man was left who was not dripping copious amounts of pre-cum. I could smell the saltiness of it and the musk of the men's sweaty bodies, packed tightly in that small wooden shed. That stable that served only as a stable for the purpose of branding. Dizzily I was taken then to the trestle. Julie helped Ophelia bind me down, telling me softly that it would not hurt too much (though she was most assuredly lying), and that I would be proud of myself afterward. Ophelia then re-filled the bucket. Between the inrolling cheeks of my bottom she started my washing, squirting the icy water between my shiveringly contorting cheeks. Then the sponge was passed all over my bottom, and even underneath (making me jerk), over my labia. Brandishing the hot iron, Julie set at me then. She wept lightly. I reared like an unbroken colt at the rodeo. The brand seared my flesh, burning it, I threshed my head to and fro, tossing my hair like a banshee. I screamed into my gag. I made a fine display with my bottom, the men said later, wiggling it so deliciously that two of them came. Afterward I sat resting, bottom wet from its final dousing, as I in turn was showered with praise. I asked for some whipped cream and Ophelia squirted some on my tongue. I licked my lips, giving myself a white moustache on my upper lip. Ophelia bent and licked it off. Mischievously then she squirted each of my titties, right on their budded areolas. Then she ardently licked them clean, sending shock waves of erotic delight through my exhausted frame. I begged her to stop but of course she didn't. The men clapped, penises waving. Alex said then that it was time to proceed to the "mattress room." With churning balls the men escorted we three females out of the stable and back across the sand, under the moon that was in the western sky now, still shining brightly. We passed through the party room and out into a hall, where we met the old woman. She watched us as we walked by, all naked and plugged and semi-bedraggled. Female animals now, perhaps, no longer female women. Being escorted to a special "rutting room," as one man called it. Near the end of the hall a door. Helpfully a man turned the handle, let us in. My eyes opened upon a chamber whose floor was covered with mattresses. It held nothing else. No furniture, no pictures, just heavy drapes drawn shut over the windows. Light permeated through the corners of the ceiling, softly bathing the room from hidden fixtures, giving it a kind of romantic gloom. In one corner I spied some KY jelly, that was all. The door closed. Julie and I stood with some difficulty in our stiletto booties upon the pliant mattresses. Alex ordered us to strip naked, to remove everything but our butt-plugs. We did so, untying our corsets, thankfully removing them, as the men lay down and lounged about us, stroking their cocks. Ophelia was already down amongst them and she squealingly received probing digits up her cunny, in her ass, in her mouth. Grasping two of the nearest cocks she held them at bay, though she could not stop the luring fingers that worked themselves within her. Julie finished undressing first. She gave a fine toss of her head, then knelt down before the nearest man. She cupped his bloated balls in her palms and eased her open mouth over the head of his penis. Gracefully she began sucking him, bobbing her head prettily as she lofted her bottom high behind her. Elegant, the well-trained newlywed wife, she opened her legs without being told and presented the peeping fig of her cunny to whomever might wish to be charmed by it. In fact it was I who crouched down then behind her, not knowing what else to do, fearing the men. I kissed her bottom apologetically and lightly flicked her cunny with my fingertip. Julie rolled her bottom and presented it more boldly, all the while dutifully servicing her chosen male. Alex came up behind me. Unprotestingly I let him draw my knees out from under my chest. Twisting my head about I watched as he raised my hips with his hands. "Put your cheek to the mattress," he said softly, gently. Yet I could tell he was restraining himself with the utmost difficulty. Beneath his smooth exterior a raging animal howled, begging for release. He watched as I looked down at his cock. My eyes showed approval. I pressed my face down so that it came into contact with the mattress. I snuggled my cheek against it. My face took on a look of pure obedience. I extended my tongue. There was a bead of saliva on the tip. The count had mentioned tongue extenders once, clips that kept the tongue protruding from the mouth. I pretended I wore one now. A rustling behind me. Alex took up his position. With a quick backward glance I saw his face had assumed a look of utter seriousness. Men always get deathly serious right at this moment. It is no longer the pleasure of it that they seek, but the actual planting of their seed. Nature has them in its grip and requires of them that they deliver themselves up. And they are eager to. This is what they were made for. I felt his nubbing cockhead probe within the lips of my cunny. I balled my bottom back more, twisting it upward, to give him purchase. Julie's bottom still arched high and untouched beside me. A jolt within me, up! I grimaced. The butt plug made my vaginal passage tighter. Another thrust. Aghhh, sooo tight. Was it me speaking, or him? The pressure of being plugged in both ends at once was intense. Yet the one in my vagina was moving! I screeched and gasped and found intensely pleasurable waves rippling all through my body. I churned my hips and pressed them back, begging to absorb yet more of Alex's hard dick. Manfully he accommodated me. I was pushed to the brink and beyond, then again, he rodding me furiously now. Copious wads of sperm coursed into me at last, flooding my uterus with his precious burden. Immediately he turned to Julie, exercising his privilege as host to fuck each of us first. He bade me rise and help him regain his strength. Julie's fig waited, alluring and open, as with aching cunt and plugged bottom I went to work on Alex's cock. Quickly I was able to stroke it back to full erection. He gave me KY jelly and I smeared his manhood thoroughly. Then he rose, stallion-like, upon his knees, cock pointing. He thrust it up Julie then, her moan caused the man in her mouth to begin spending. Ophelia reached out and touched my shoulder then, smilingly eased me down onto my back to play with her and her suitors. We dallied the night away, alternately being fucked by each of the men in turn. I did not know what my future held but, somehow, I could not picture myself whiling away the next three years in high school. Still flush with a lingering excitement Julie and I left the hacienda the next morning. Out of necessity Julie wore only her discarded dress, with nothing on underneath. I had managed to fit myself into a pair of Ophelia's panties, and wore the dress over them. With an easy confidence I surveyed the arid landscape. My mother had arrived home yesterday. Had she listed me as "missing" by now? I didn't care. Helga had paged us. There was a chance to do some sightseeing in Buenos Aires. It seemed a certain wealthy gentleman down there desired some female companionship. Now, should I read about Argentina in a school book or go there myself? I decided to experience it firsthand...with my pussy. THE END ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Free e-mail subscriptions: No longer available due to mailbombing of my Internet account(s) by right-wing Christians. -Currently I am: roller39@mail.idt.net -formerly I was andrewroller@sprintmail.com, roller66@inreach.com, roller666@aol.com Read my complete works under these names by going to: http://www.excite.com (Click on ‘newsgroups’ and search under my various former screen names). (Also you can read irrelevant bullshit posted by right-wing Christians.) -Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com - Free plug: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 - JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. =20 -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder. =20 -END OF 272 EMISSION -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /