Message-ID: <1155eli$9706031237@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: Love Child part 1 of 15 (NND) --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in LOVE CHILD _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter One In my mind I tried to imagine what it would be like. I lofted my hands above my head. The chaise lounge stuck up above my head and I rested them there, along the top, crossed my wrists and pretended they were tied to it. I dropped my legs down on either side of the chaise lounge. I arched my pussy forward. I gazed up at the sun, feeling its warmth, my eyes closed. I'd just slipped off my bikini bra a moment earlier and my breasts, full and firm, peaked toward the sun. Only my bikini panties remained to protect me from Phoebus. Hotly he breathed down on me, but a cool breeze, sent by some sympathetic goddess, wafted up around me. In my imagination I left the sun behind. It was nighttime now, and I was at a party. Kimber was there. She owned the chaise lounge I was lying on. She'd slipped away, leaving me by myself by her pool, but in my daydream she was right in front of me. "So glad you could come," she whispered, her eyes holding that worldly gleam. I knew what was expected. A butler appeared, holding a silver tray. A little pile of female underpants were stacked upon it. Pink ones, yellow ones, frilly ones with little bows. I slipped my hands beneath my miniskirt. Reluctantly I pulled my own undies down my legs and added them to the pile. Kimber smiled her approval. She took me by the arm, led me in to meet the other guests. An even number of men and women, give or take a few, chatted amicably in the hotel suite's living room. The women were all young, with Kimber, at 22, representing about the average. The men ranged somewhat older in age, starting at the mid-twenties and going as high as 50. I was received warmly by the nearest couple. We spoke a moment, then Kimber and I moved on, exchanged small talk with other guests in turn, Kimber graciously introducing me to each of them. I was the youngest, at 15. My face, angelic, with soft pink cheeks, looked 12. But there was no doubt my body could hold its own against any of them. The swell of my breasts was prominent, provocative. My mother said they were much too big for my age. My legs were sleek and long and seemed to rise up until they disappeared somewhere in my ribcage. Barbi was not an unsuitable name for me. People said I looked just like her. My hips, I suppose, could have been fuller, but my bottom was well-fleshed, sticking out round and saucily like some apple desiring to be polished. As Kimber threaded me through the guests I studied their mouths. Most women wore light shades of lipstick, glossing their pretty lips. Their teeth were small and dazzlingly white, tongues flitting within as they spoke. Each one would sup upon my pussy this evening, Kimber had promised, for this was a Pussy Party, where the most private part of the body was given prominence. There were no "ass men" or "leg men" here tonight, but rather those who prized a woman's cunt above all else. And there were a few women here too who shared a similar obsession, particularly the older ones. The youngest females present were all here "to show," as it was artfully said, and had been selected for the beauty of their dells. I sensed movement. My eyes popped open, into the glare of the sun. My hands shot down to my pussy and lay protectively upon it, only then realizing that I still wore my bikini briefs. Kimber stood under the shadow of a tree, observed me with a sly smile. I felt embarrassed, realized my titties were bare and were being squished upward between my closely drawn arms. My nipples stuck up, fully erect, excited. A cool breeze caressed them. "I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I think I already know..." Kimber said, her voice trailing off softly. I flushed, felt butterflies in my stomach. "Such a sweet little virgin," she said, and sauntered over to me. She plucked each of my hands off my crotch. Lightly she stroked my mound, tenuously covered by my panties. "D-Don't," I breathed, trembled, arms at my sides. My breasts shivered as I spoke. I replaced my legs on the chaise lounge. They looked like long sticks of cinnamon stretching down away from me, straight, with two wiggly sets of toes at the end. Kimber sat down beside me on the chaise lounge, her hand still caressing my virgin loins. I should have squeezed my legs tightly together, but I didn't. I left my thighs parted slightly. My breasts wobbled nakedly on my chest as I took a breath and exhaled it with a shudder. "You mustn't expose them to direct sunlight," Kimber said, looking at my boobs. "Men prefer them white. Put your bra back on." She urged modesty upon me even as her fingers danced upon my dell. I fetched my bra from where it lay beside me. I leaned forward and covered myself with it, reaching behind myself to tie it. Kimber smoothed my bikini between my loins, watching my face and tits with her eyes. "I'm having a party tonight," she said. "Another girl your age, less developed, might be too young for it, but you are full grown enough to come. You must not deny yourself any longer, Barbi. Your time has come. You must join the adult world and take your place in it." "I'm saving myself for marriage," I pouted defiantly, finally getting my bra back on, straightening the cups with my fingers. Reluctantly I saw that my mother was right. I would have to buy a new swimsuit. My chest had outgrown this one, just like the others, filling the cups to the bursting point. It had happened every summer since my twelfth birthday. I'd start with a decent bra, but by late summer I'd find I could not get myself properly covered anymore. My boobies would bulge out around the desperate cups, showing off much more than the swimsuit's designer intended. I hoped this didn't go on too much longer. I'd wind up in the Guiness Book of World Records. "Tsk! Marriage!" Kimber announced dismissively. She tossed her head. Her hand still played upon my mound. She gazed into my eyes. "Even your bra knows you're a big girl now," her gaze seemed to say. "I'm still not coming," I said aloud, as if in answer. "And take your hand off my twat." She lifted her fingers, but placed them alongside my hip, where my bikini panties were tied. Her other hand took up a position on the other side of my hip. Lightly she toyed with the bows which kept my panties tied on. "You wouldn't..." I said. She tugged at the drawstrings, just a little. "Will you come to my party?" she asked. "I would, If my arrival didn't mean I'd have to come again." "Oh, yes!" Kimber said happily. "All night, in fact. It's what the party's for, you know. But no one will fuck you, unless you want them to. Except, of course, with their tongues." She tugged on my drawstrings a little more. My nipples indented the cups of my bra, forming tiny tents. "My mom wouldn't ever let me hang around with you if she knew about your parties," I threatened. Kimber laughed. "Helga? I could tell you all sorts of tales about your mother Helga." A shiver ran up my spine. My parents had been killed in a car crash when I was eight. Their close friend, Helga, had adopted me. I'd heard stories, dismissing them out of hand when I was a little girl, about the parties Helga had invited my parents to. And they hadn't turned down her invitations. But no, it couldn't be, could it? I could hardly imagine my mother, naked, bucking, rearing, attended upon by men in a lavish hotel suite somewhere, others looking on, or fucking, my father working himself into a new young virgin, maybe, someone like me, while my mother was pinned down, pinned within her pussy. Yet my mother (I sometimes called her "my first mother" now), had been very beautiful. And my father handsome. They would not be easily missed, easily passed over in a crowd, at a party. They would not go without invitations to undress, to show their assets, to love and be loved in turn. But the other kids I played with had pretty moms too, and tall, strong fathers. Surely they could not all be up to such things, in one way or another? And Helga herself seemed a very picture of virtue. She was always getting after me about my clothes, making sure they weren't too immodest. It bugged me sometimes, but I suppose, walking to school each day, a girl had to be careful. Not a day went by that, no matter what I wore, I didn't have men and boys gawking at me. The younger ones actually drooled. I swear if it wasn't for the security patrol in my neighborhood, I wouldn't have made it to school a single day this year without being raped. And now it looked as if Kimber herself, my best friend, wanted to rape me. Our eyes clashed. I could have reached up and grabbed her bikini bra, yanked it down, or grabbed her own panties, but I wanted to defeat her with my will. It seemed as if Phoebus himself was staring down, urging her on. I knew she was no lesbian, save, perhaps, for the pleasure of men. She wanted what was best for me. Though, at times, it might be hard, might hurt, I knew that, just from talking to the other girls at school who'd already done it. But none of them had a friend like Kimberly, so far as I knew. Perhaps that was what had drawn me to her. She seemed just like me at times, young and careless, and then, at other times, a woman, sophisticated, even cunning. Suddenly, with flashing fingers, she slipped the ties of my panties. I gasped. "No," I said. My panties lay across me, undone, but still covering my pubis. "Alright," Kimber said, rising of a sudden to her feet. Her long golden hair swished against her back. Her tushy, barely encased in swim briefs, bulged wantonly, temptingly. "My panties..." I began. "Tie them up yourself," she said, and strutted off in her high heels. She crossed her immaculately manicured lawn in silence, the grass absorbing the sound of her shoes. *** I tossed and turned that night in bed. I wondered what I'd be doing now, if I'd accepted Kimberly's invitation. Or, rather, what would be being done to me. I tried to picture the men at her party. I knew they must be very handsome. And wealthy. They would relish a young schoolgirl like me. They would be thoughtful, and kind, and gentle, but firm, oh so firm. I wanted them to be firm. Somehow I fell asleep at last. I woke up shrouded in melancholia. "You look a trifle gloomy today," Kimber teased me when I stopped by her place after school. I plopped down at her kitchen table. Four out of five days at school were "uniform day," and this was one of them. I wore my regulation white blouse and plaid skirt, kneesocks and clunky saddle shoes. Kimber, as usual, was dressed ravishingly in the latest fashions. Even her casualwear was up-to-the-minute fashion plate. She had on a sleeveless denim jacket and matching miniskirt, with only a flimsy see-through bra beneath the jacket. It was a jacket, not a vest, for it had a collar. A denim engineer's cap with a shiny silver buckle perched jauntily on her head. "I'm still saving myself for marriage," I said sullenly. "Of course, dear," Kimber replied. She sat down across from me and began spooning her way into a piece of strawberry cream pie. Her parties kept her from ever having to watch her weight. "Get some if you want it," she said. I rose to slice myself a piece of pie and then wondered if she meant the pie, or the party? The pie, of course, but... Sitting across from each other we ate the pies, and I knew there were men in this world who would have delighted in watching us. I rimmed my upper lip with my tongue, trying to clear it of whipped cream, succeeded only in smearing it. Kimber looked up and I saw she had a cream mustache too. "So what do you want to do today?" Kimber asked, plucking a fat strawberry from atop her pie and popping it in her mouth. I watched, copied her. I copied Kimber in lots of things, I knew. Deep down I envied her, the bold, casual air she had about sex, the way she could twist men around her little finger. They did not scare her. More likely, she scared them. "There's a park that just opened. I hear they have some cool rides," I said. "Okay." "Can I wear something of yours? I don't want to go in my schoolgirl clothes." "It won't matter if you're just going to ride the merry-go-round." "Bitch," I said. Kimber laughed, tossing back her head, deliciously carefree. "You know I'm not going just to ride the merry-go-round," I scowled. Kimber said no more. She'd shot me with her bow...again. *** Dressed in a midriff and jeans I strolled through the park with Kimberly. I was wearing jeans of hers that had fit her several years ago, the pants fitting snugly against my immature hips. My tanned tummy, smooth and bare, caught men's eyes as we passed, my belly button winking surreptitiously at them. A girl's body sometimes sends signals she herself would never approve of, but cannot help. My boobies jiggled within the confines of my half-tee. It was tied off just below them in a cute bow of white fabric. The shirt was sleeveless. At Kimber's insistence I wore no bra. I prayed to God I didn't spill anything on my shirt. Carefully I sipped on a coke. "Mmm!" Kimber said, pointing, her mouth full of ice cream. "Not the log ride," I said. Those things always ended in a big splash. She took my hand anyway, tugged me forward. "Be bold," she said, winking. And indeed she herself was, with her see-through bra peeking out between the partly unzipped halves of her jacket. We entered the ride and sat down. A big log enclosed us, four abreast. I sat beside a man who was not unconscious of the dare I was about to make with the water. He, and his wife beside him, smiled at me. "To be young and free," I heard his wife say in Spanish. I was pretty good in Spanish, even though I went to an American school. Some of the other kids snubbed Spanish. They were military brats, or the children of American executives, hating Buenos Aires because it wasn’t Phoenix, then going back to America two years later and hating Phoenix because it wasn’t Buenos Aires. I didn’t mind fitting into the local culture, learning the language. I seemed brighter than the other kids at school, and my beauty, which some called extraordinary, seemed to distance me from the other girls. The boys, I knew, only had one thing on their minds when they sidled up to me. So I mostly ignored them. What fun is the chase when you’re hounded on all sides, but every dog is a Beavis or Butthead? Maybe that's why I got on so well with Kimber. Even here, in Argentina, I had only a desultory relationship with my schoolmates. Helga and I had lived here for awhile, then in America, then in Europe, then back here again. This time I'd started school here at mid-year, when the other kids had already formed into groups and cliques. So I was alone, mostly, though now I had Helga’s friend Kimberly to keep me company. And, once, I’d met another friend of Helga’s, named Julie. They seemed to have shared an adventure together once, when Kimber and Julie were still teens. Now they led separate lives, mostly. They all had come into money, claimed it was from modeling, but had no photo albums or scrapbooks they could show me. I turned around, gazed behind me. Were any of my schoolmates back there? Nope. Not even any members of my Beavis and Butthead fan club, with their ever-present hopeful glances. They were probably at home, surfing the web, while I prepared to surf my way into a splash at the bottom of the log ride. Too bad. They would miss out on a treat, if I lost my bet with the water. Secretly I wished some of my female rivals were here, seeing me with my ultra-cool female friend Kimberly. They would be extra jealous if they saw me with her. We were a knockout together, no questions asked. I liked how men thought I was somehow older when they saw me with her. It was as if her presence gave them permission to talk to me. I liked that. Only thing was, what would I do, if they wanted to do more than talk? I didn’t know. Kimberly would sometimes go out with one of them, someone we’d met that day, at the mall or someplace, and I’d lie awake that night, at home, jealous, wondering what it would have been like if I’d been her, and she me. That’s why she’d been inviting me to her parties, lately, I knew. To resolve my doubts. To answer my curiosity. But, God! It was like, “if you come, you must participate.” I couldn’t just...come. Or, rather, I couldn’t just “attend.” I couldn’t just be a little girl, a little squirrel, seeing others do things and then refusing to partake myself. If I wanted that sort of party, I could stick to church socials and the lame Beavis meets Airhead high school parties, Kimberly said. No, if I went to one of Kimberly’s parties, I would have to be part of the group. I couldn’t just watch, I couldn’t exclude myself, I couldn’t be half-in and half-out like I was at school. I had to be one of THEM. In this case, one of the adults. Or, rather, one of the girls “coming out” into the social world of adults. I glanced at Kimberly. Damn you! So smooth, so light-hearted, and so self-assured. Were you ever 15, Kimberly? Were you ever like me, caught between the somnolence of childhood and the confidence of adulthood? The log slid up a long, seemingly precarious ramp, giving us a view of the entire park. Happily Kimber pointed out to me where we'd bought our Cokes. The fat boy was still there, serving customers, begging with his eyes for sex as he filled girls’ requests for drinks and hotdogs. We'd had quite a laugh between ourselves after leaving his stand. "Minus Ten," we nicknamed him. Poor soul. I doubted he'd ever get invited to a Pussy Party. I gazed at the other rides, wondering which one I'd like to go on next. Kimber seemed to be doing the same. Then I remembered my blouse. We were almost at the top of the ramp now, and there was a lot of water down below. The grinding of the ride's wheels ceased. The wind whipped my long hair. We were poised atop a great hill made out of steel tracks. I could see the curlicues of track below, each a thrill of its own, each with its own special quality. Suddenly in my mind each was a different party, with its own special perversions, its own unique sexual satisfactions. My breath caught in my throat. I held it in. My breasts seemed to bulge within my shirt. The log teetered atop the hill. A ride of terror and pleasure awaited us. I felt myself on the precipice, suddenly, between childhood and adulthood. Kimber took my hand, squeezed it reassuringly. The log lurched forward and we began our descent. **** "She was lucky she had long hair," I heard Kimberly laughing. She was retelling the story of my adventure upon the log ride. Of course, I'd lost the bet with the water. My blouse had been soaked. I'd had to spend the next fifteen minutes walking around the park with my hair carefully placed over my breasts, worrying at every gust of wind. A few times the wind had won and my pink nipples had been revealed to passersby, beneath my wet tee. When we went to buy more Cokes, the wind had bared me right in front of the fat boy. I think he closed his stand and spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom. The couple before us laughed gaily. I had finally said "yes." It was two weeks later, and now I was here, at one of Kimber's parties. A Pussy Party, no less. At least it wasn’t a “Bottom Party.” I’d heard men had a predilection for removing their belts at those, and not for the purpose of dropping their pants. Uncomfortably I was aware of my nakedness beneath my skirt. It was short, a mini. Fortunately I didn’t have a hanky that I might drop. I prayed no one would ask me to bend over. It had been bad enough, at the door, slipping out of my undies, with everyone watching, coyly. Then I’d watched other girls come in behind me, women mostly. They’d slipped out of their panties so demurely, as if at Frederick’s, finding what they’d tried on had been a little too tight, perhaps. A little too small even for their tastes. Except this wasn’t a private dressing room inside Frederick’s. This was a full-fledged party, a social affair, with men in three-piece suits looking fine and handsome. What would my mother say if she knew? Helga, my second mother. Fortunately she was out of town for the weekend. I had no father to look after me. I gazed at the man standing before me. He would be about my father's age, I thought, if my dad were still alive. Gently he appraised me with his eyes. He wanted me in a way my father never had. "Surely everyone is here by now?" I heard him ask Kimberly. "Yes, I'm quite certain they are," she replied. She clapped her hands for everyone's attention. "Let's go into the study," she said. She led the way then, taking me firmly by the hand. My skirt flipped up as I walked, hips rolling, flashing the tops of my creamy thighs at the guests who followed us. I was the prize of the evening, and I would be first. I would never have agreed to come to one of Kimber's parties, I don't think, except that she'd caught me smoking pot three days ago. I'd only taken it up recently at school, to try to get along better with the other girls, who'd enticed me into it in the bathroom. Kimber had gotten quite angry with me when she'd found me smoking it, behind some bushes by her pool. She'd said that sex was healthy and drugs were not. If I wanted to grow up I should go to her parties, she said, not turn into a pothead. She'd said that my body was changing and it was indeed time for me to grow up, but not into drugs. She'd threatened to tell my mother unless I decided to take my place in the adult world as I should, as a young, fertile female. So now, a roomful of eyes on my barely covered bottom, I stood hand in hand with Kimberly contemplating the centerpiece of the party. It was an innocuous wooden stool, placed before a ladder that served to give access to a wall full of books. But I would not be standing on the stool, or climbing the ladder to fetch a book. Nor would any of the other females tonight. Those of us chosen for the task were to each sit on the stool, in turn, to be eaten. Kimber placed a soft satin cushion on the stool. A maid, clad only in an apron that stretched from her neck to her thighs, tied the cushion to the stool with a length of soft rope. Kimber lifted a pillow from the floor and set it against the ladder, to protect my back. The maid tied this off also. "Undress and sit down, Barbi," Kimber invited. Self-consciously I wriggled out of my black lycra top, sending my boobies flying as I pulled it up over my head. The guests gasped appreciatively at the beauty of my mammaries. I shimmied my skirt down, letting it pool at my ankles. Then I stepped out of it, wearing only pumps. I tossed my hair back, attempting an air of casualness. Yet everyone knew I was a virgin. "You have a very cute bottom," I heard a girl say behind me. Her name was Debbi. She was a little older than me and I'd just been introduced to her a few minutes earlier. We'd seemed fast friends from the moment our eyes met. She followed me over to the stool and when I turned to sit down I saw that she'd peeled off her own top. Silently I thanked her for joining me in at least a partial display of her own nudity. Her sumptuous breasts bobbed enticingly as she helped me sit down on the stool. When I was seated I was to stretch my legs out before me, and put my feet into stirrups mounted on the floor. They were widely spaced and could be cranked upward, I was told, to loft my feet as high into the air as anyone might wish. Right now they stood about a foot off the floor, on slim metal posts. When my bottom was comfortably poised on the cushion, Debbi knelt and buckled each of my feet into the stirrups. Kimber, meantime, surprised me by shedding her party dress. Underneath she wore only a garter belt and stockings. At her urging I lifted my arms above my head. She pinned my wrists to a rung of the ladder and the maid tied them off with a rope. I wondered idly what a bottle of honey was doing in the library. Shaped like a teddy bear, it grinned down at me from a shelf above. Perhaps someone was going to have a crumpet. Kimber picked it up. My breath caught in my throat. She lowered the squeeze bottle to my open mouth and lightly squirted. A stream of honey hit my tongue, lolling unselfconsciously on my lower lip. My mouth opened wider, surprised. She squirted more vigorously. Someone giggled. Was it me? More laughter, Kimber laughing now. She made to coat my lips with honey. Some missed, going too high up, giving me a cleft palate of honey, then too low, dimpling my chin. Debbi shrugged off her skirt. Silk panties, too small, traversed her waist, barely covering her pubis. She slaked her ardent hands on her thighs, seeming to want to thrust them between, rub herself. Her eyes gleamed at me. She laughed, intensely, like a child barely able to contain herself with the apprehension of what must surely happen next. Giggling, hands tied above me, I tried to clean my mouth with my tongue. Kimber lowered the squirt bottle to my laughter-shaking boobs. I watched wide eyed as she deposited a dollop of honey on each nipple. The clear, sticky amber fluid slowly engulfed each stiff teat and then dripped a drop onto my thighs. The bottle trailed down my smooth tummy, anointed my navel, then moved lower to poise itself at my pussy. Kimber eyed me, smiled, returned her gaze to my twat. Someone was going to have a muffin, all right. Mine. With a fresh squeeze she fired at my clit. I flinched as the stream struck home. I oozed there, honeyed in more ways than one, suddenly very aroused. Debbi bent low, clasped her hands about my waist, palmed my bottom firmly. She scooted my bottom forward on the satin cushion. Then she eased my knees farther apart. Kimber bent low and really let me have it this time. She coated my cunt lips all over with the honey. Then she introduced the tip into my virgin twat. I shuddered. My chastity was slipping away. A fusillade of honey spurted up me where nothing ever had before. A tremble passed over Kimber and she seemed to want to fuck me with the honey bottle's little tip. But the poor bear was just too small, even for my tight little cunt. She filled me as best she could and then withdrew. She lifted a hand and brushed back her mane of golden hair, a picture of pure, decadent sophistication. "Who will be first?" she asked, turning to the guests. Her shapely bottom bulged nakedly at me. Naughtily I wondered what it would be like to shoot honey up her ass. A young man strode forward, long hair, a modern Jim Morrison in a tuxedo. My spine tingled as I saw he had a day's growth of beard on his chin. He would be...bristly. With an eagerness he tried to mask behind an air of casual disdain he got down between my legs. Kneeling, I thought. You're kneeling before me, aren't you, big boy. Roughly he pushed my thighs farther apart. My ankles strained in their stirrups, held fast. Worshipfully he bent forward, extended his tongue. I broke into an uncontrollable shudder as he pushed his stubbly face right between the innermost portions of my thighs. My eyes closed. I grimaced as I felt a lick. Right where it counted. Right on my clit. He was slurping soon, sucking all the honey from my twat with exemplary vigor. Some little part of me was still sane, could remark upon this, but most of me had spun suddenly into a whirl of pleasure. I humped him, moaned, cried louder. Never before had I been eaten! I was the outcast, the beautiful loner, the girl boys never dared ask out, though they spurted joyfully at my passing, peering at me from restroom windows. I saw them again in my mind, a pair of eyes, maybe two pair, leering at me from some high half-opened window, intended to provide ventilation to boys pooping in the john. And then, sometimes, a crash! The bent-over boy, the one providing a platform for his buddies with his back, got a little too excited at their breathless descriptions of me. I'd always been excited by their watching, though I didn't let on. Now I had a whole roomful of eyes staring at me! And this time no flights of fancy were required to imagine me without my clothes. I had none! The very thought sent me shivering over the brink. Next I knew Kimber was patting, stroking my head. I was gasping. The man was gone, but another approached. "Please," I mouthed, meaning to say "Please, no more," but the rest didn't come out. "Yes dear, here's another one," Kimber said consolingly. An older man approached. He got right down on his knees and thrust his face into my beaver. The dam of my hymen strained as he sucked at me like a vacuum. Was he trying to deflower me with his breath? He was doing a good job of it. His mouth went to work then, munching merrily at my virgin cuntlips. He urged more of my natural honey from me. Kimber bent forward and engaged my open, swooning mouth. Absently I let her kiss me, French kiss me, licking away all the honey with long, lingering strokes of her tongue. Then she and Debbi each captured one of my wobbling breasts and set about cleaning my honeyed nipples. I shrieked as the mouths plundered my most intimate regions. Gulping in air I screamed as only a virgin can, tasting the fruits of adulthood for the very first time. At last, trembling, the girls and the man left me. I must have looked a wreck, makeup smeared, long hair tousled, my breasts and snatch gleaming wet. The partiers seemed not to mind. They gazed at me approvingly. I was still virgin, still tied, able only to move my hips, my head, my bosoms. Another came forward, this one a woman. She was elegant, wearing a long, flowing sequined party gown. She eased the garment's spaghetti straps off her shoulders. It shimmied down as she knelt, bringing forth to my gaze a sumptuous bust. She must have been close to 30, yet her tits stuck out as proudly as any high school girl's. Nakedly they shook their fulness at me. She took up position between my thighs. Her dress bunched at her waist, leaving her own pussy covered. "No!" I said. I cast my eyes wildly at Kimber. To be eaten by men was one thing, bad enough, but a woman?! I couldn't. She thrust her face forward. It was smooth against my thighs. I had no choice. Long nailed fingertips expertly spread me. My tightness was stretched open, pulled apart. Was this some gynecological exam for virgins? Then her tongue, soft, probing. Deep it went, tasting my hymen, relishing it. Not often, I was sure, did these guests get to taste such a rare flower. How long would I remain so? Men were disrobing now, I saw through bleared eyes. Enormous pricks sprung eagerly into the study's stuffy air. Women cooed at the sight, let themselves out of their own clothing. Perhaps virgin boys watched X-rated movies as they dreamed of their adult futures, but a girl like me never had. I was shocked, frightened even, as I saw for the first time what grownups did in their spare time. Nay, not their spare time. This was prime time. All else was mere resting between bouts in bed. For young adults work was the resting place, the bedchamber at night the place of labor. The young men and women around me got down to business, inspiring the older men, who soon joined them. Debbi was brushing one of my nipples with her fingertips, idly, like some child toying with a button. Her other hand stroked her inner thigh repeatedly. Kimber walked over to her, embraced her from behind. Debbi offered her lips, tossing her head back over her shoulder. They kissed, long and luxuriously. Then, holding Debbi from behind, Kimber glanced over the little brunette's shoulder and pulled open the front of Debbi's panties. Both of them looked down for a moment at the pretty thatch inside. They smiled. Kimber took Debbi's hand and placed it within Debbi's opened panties. The girl shivered thankfully. She began rubbing herself where it counted. Sweet, musky odors began assailing my nostrils. Something I'd only ever smelled with myself before, when I became too urgent in the middle of the night, alone in my bed at home. The scent of love. And a new smell, that of the male! I relished it even as I cringed at its pungency. Not the odor itself, I guess, as much as what it meant. Thousands of little white fish-tailed men being loosed right here, within the book-lined walls of this staid study, only feet from my own womb. There was no going back from this, I knew. That male odor would draw me in, fish to the fish-men. My hymen was an endangered species. Kimber stepped away from Debbi. She reached up to a shelf, drew down another incongruous item for a study. It was a little whip. For ponies perhaps, or dogs. She reached out and drew down the back of Debbi's panties so that they bunched under her bottom. Newly exposed, I saw in a mirror their whiteness. They jiggled slightly, as Debbi masturbated. A flick of Kimber's wrist then and the whip went sailing in to strike across the trembling globes. Debbi bit her lip, stifled a cry. Yet with her free hand she did not try to protect herself. Kimber rimmed her lips with her tongue and struck the girl again, harder. "Ooo!" Debbi yelped, choking off her cry in what I guessed was an attempt to be a good girl under the sting of the lash. Someone had told me once that girls must strive to keep quiet during a whipping, hadn't they? Or was I just imagining such things. What did I know about whippings? My mind trolled through the chatter in the girls' locker room. Whispered passions, shared amidst giggles, perhaps I'd overheard it, dismissed it at the time as utter nonsense. Now it came back to me, full force. And something else also. Sometime during my half-remembered imaginings the cultured woman at my snatch had become satiated. A man stood before me now, presenting his thing boldly. He seemed not to want to kneel. Ah! No! Could it be? The male seed was drawing nearer. My lips, yes, he wanted my lips, but not my well spread virgin ones down below. "Have you ever sucked cock?" he husked. He was young. His dick, unmilked yet, wiggled frantically. He was certainly no slouch when it came to looks. Had he saved himself for me? Amidst the moans all around us he presented himself to me then, eased my teeth apart with his fingers, pushed the rubicund tip right between my lips. It settled on my tongue. I tasted precum for the first time. It drooled within me, pooling in the back of my mouth, running down my throat in light trickles. "Suck," he commanded, jutting his chin out. I looked up at him. My eyes met his. He would brook no disobedience, I knew. My mouth closed reflexively, fearfully upon him. With his palms he stroked my blushing cheeks. Still staring up at him I began suctioning his tool, his very manhood, the soul of his being throbbing wetly in my all-enclosing orifice. Yet some of him remained without, in the cool dry air. He wanted that in me too. Pushing forward he made me take more of his stem. I felt his cockhead bump the back of my throat. Kimber left off her whipping for a moment to snap a picture of me. I saw it later, my cheeks bulging, eyes popping, as the big cock was forced more deeply within, still half at least luridly poised without. Crisscrossed with big blue veins, the penis arced through the air. It looked, I thought later, like a dolphin, its ends concealed but its back arching in the gleaming sunlight. No head, no tail, just the powerful arching back and belly. Like a dolphin in mid-dive. Except the head of the cock was banging against the back of my throat. "More, you can take more," Kimber urged. She smoothed her hand across my forehead. My cheeks collapsed and I sucked deeply upon the rod. I choked, gasped, my mouth opening, my breath flowing out around it. He eased gently back a bit, I thanked him for it with my eyes. But then he shoved forward again. I would not be let off so easy. "Practise," Kimber said. She returned to Debbi. The brunette was weeping and thrusting her bottom out. Both her hands were jammed between her thighs. "Yes, the air is nice and cool, isn't it?" Kimber asked her. "But I am not going to let you feel only the cool air just yet. A few more strokes are in order for a bad girl who plays with herself, yes indeed!" And Debbi’s waggling hiney, so desperate to cool its fiery surface, was assailed yet again by Kimber’s whip. My lover plumbed my depths, urging himself more and more into my throat, backing off only when I choked and then driving forward again. I sucked now out of desperation, hoping against hope to bring him off and end this suffocating torment. He grinned down at me and told me I was doing a good job. He ran his fingers through my hair. I, who had been so haughty, as some of my classmates imagined, an "ice princess," was now reduced to a gagging wench. I wished I could bring my hands to bear upon him, but they were tied uselessly above my head. Only my mouth could bring him off, my novice mouth, which at the park had slurped dreamily upon a cherry popsicle, imagining. Now I had the real thing, and it didn't melt, no matter how much you tongued it. But it might, it SHOULD, at any rate, deflate, if only I knew how. Something about butterflies surfaced in my subconscious and my tongue leapt. The man felt me against the underside of his cock and he trembled. My first sign of hope. I looked up at him. He seemed to be arguing with himself. Something told me that if I could get my flitting tongue under the head of his penis, he would be through. But the head was back, too far into me. I looked at him with appealing eyes. He wanted that virgin tongue of mine right where it counted most, now that I knew how to use it. Giving up on plundering my throat he pulled out partway, until his cockhead rested upon the tip of my newly trained tongue. I didn't waste any time seizing my opportunity. My tongue titillated his most sensitive spot like a little Amazon in heat. I let my lips part and heard a rapid, lapping sound. My man shuddered. His face became haggard. He didn't want to cum and yet he must! Oooh, yes, baby, you are mine now, totally within my power. I am the cat that freezes the mouse with its gaze. He grabbed at my hair. His hips bucked. But he never let himself stray from my wicked tongue. Right there, under the cockhead, where a man loves it most but can stand it least. "Oh, God, no!" he cried. Had he been promised more than just my mouth...if he could hold it? Too late! My first taste of sperm burst into my mouth. It felt like Old Faithful was creaming me. His cum geysered down my throat, hot and sticky. I moved my tongue more rapidly, delighted at my triumph. Slowly, slowly then he began to limpen. With a toss of my head finally I got my mouth free of him. He wanted me to lick him until he came up again but, though tied, I gave him a sullen, defiant pout. Kimber intervened then and thanked him. His manhood deflated, he withdrew, giving me a last hopeful look over his shoulder before being welcomed back into the crowd by an eager woman. Kimber smiled at me. She kissed me on the lips. "Well, you've been a busy girl today." She ran her hands through my hair, combing it with her fingers. I smacked my lips, amazed at the semen smeared all over them, the goo coating the inside of my mouth. My tongue wanted to stick to the roof of my mouth. "If you like the white stuff, we've been invited to where there's lots more of it. The Andes, as a matter of fact, to a certain gentleman's chalet,” Kimber grinned down at me. “Practise on a few more men tonight and then we'll get some shut eye, and leave in the morning." 30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -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> /