Message-ID: <6919eli$9801011738@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: jan 1 Summer of Sin part 4 of 4 (NND) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller39@IDT.NET Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34AABB04.65CD@idt.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in SUMMER OF SIN _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Four “Well, you have been opened fore and aft, and fed upon by some of the glitterati of Paris,” Rebecca laughed to me the next morning. “What shall we do for an encore?” I hugged my pillow. I lay in my bed, defensively. We were home again. Rebecca was up early, decked out in her broadbrimmed hat and a bikini. She was lithe, graceful. She tossed back her brown hair in a carefree way. She gazed down at me. She put her hands on her hips. She was intent on catching the morning rays of the sun out by her pool. “I don’t want to have an encore,” I said testily. I knew she wished for me to join her. But I was still sore from the night before. I put my thumb in my mouth. I sucked upon it and closed my eyes. “Very well,” Rebecca said. I heard her heels click upon the floor. She turned, left. I drifted gratefully back into sleep. That afternoon we went shopping downtown. A collection had been made at the party the night before, in appreciation of our boldness. I enjoyed spending the money. “Does this make us--” I asked Rebecca, pausing over the word in French, not sure how to pronounce it. “No, darling,” Rebecca assured me. “We are adventurous, but we are not that,” she said. “I hoped we were not,” I said, gulping. We were in a hattery. I put a broadbrimmed straw hat upon my head. It was similar to the one Rebecca owned. She adjusted it for me. She tied the ribboned chin strap under my chin. “You look adorable,” Rebecca said. A young man put some boxes down in a corner of the store, near to where we were standing. We both turned and looked at him. He looked at us. I judged him to be about 19. He smiled. I found his figure extraordinary and couldn’t help but smile back. He had broad shoulders, long legs. His hips were trim. There was a bulge in the front of his tight jeans. He wore a plaid shirt but it was undone down the front, displaying a muscled chest and a flat belly. He had hair growing up his belly and over his chest. “Oh, sorry,” the man said. He put his fingers to his shirt and began buttoning it. “It’s hot out today,” he said. The proprietess of the store circled back between the hats to where we were standing. I blushed, seeing her, for I knew my eyes betrayed an admiration for her stockboy. She glanced at me, my hat, which was still her hat, for I had not bought it yet. She looked at her boy. She was Rebecca’s age. I guessed the young man meant more to her than just someone who labored over her boxes. “I hope he is not bothering you?” the woman asked. “Oh, no,” Rebecca replied. I remained silent. I lowered my face, letting the hat’s brim cover my eyes. From under it I peered at the boy’s crotch, surreptitiously. How could he be so big there? Was it just the tightness of the pants? Or had he become excited, seeing me in this hat? I felt guilty looking at his thing but I couldn’t help myself. “We shall take the hat,” Rebecca said. “Yes, of course,” the proprietess answered. “She looks darling in it.” “Thank you,” I whispered from under my hat, still keeping my eyes lowered, looking at the man’s crotch. “Anything else?” the proprietess asked. “No. The hat will be fine,” Rebecca said. “It is how much?” She began to open her purse. “You needn’t open that,” the proprietess said. Her hand darted out and caught at the top of Rebecca’s handbag. Gently she closed it. Her hand remained atop it, lingering, an unspoken question in the air. “Oh, but I must pay you,” Rebecca said, and tried to open her purse again. The proprietesses’ fingers kept it shut. “There are any number of ways to pay for the necessities of life,” the proprietess said. “And money is, I think, the most boring of all.” “Oh!” Rebecca said, gasping a little. The proprietess forced her purse closed. She did not try to open it again. “I live on Bourbon Street,” the proprietess said. “Number 25. I should be honored if she would wear the hat to tea. Three o’clock, perhaps? Tommorrow?” She glanced at the boy. “Johnnie, do you have classes tommorrow?” “Only in the morning,” Johnnie said. “Good,” the propreitess said. “You will report to my home after your classes. Call Maria and have her tend the store.” “What do you think?” Rebecca asked. She turned to me. I lifted my eyes. I wondered if I was still blushing. My eyes met the young man’s and I smiled. “I want to see all the different things in Paris,” I said coyly. My eyes dropped to the man’s crotch and then lifted quickly, guiltily, and looked into the face of the proprietess. She smiled. “I shall expect you both at three then,” the proprietess said. “My name is Helene. And yours?” she asked, turning her face to Rebecca. “Rebecca,” my aunt replied. “And this is Chloe.” “Ah, a lovely name,” Helene said. “Johnnie, do not put the boxes there. Put them up front, by the register,” Helene said, turning to the stockboy. He nodded. He bent over and I watched his buttocks tense in his jeans. He had a broad back and it spread over the boxes. His muscled arms scooped them up. He turned, grinned at myself and Rebecca, and then sauntered through the racks of hats up to the front of the store. “Is he your boyfriend?” Rebecca asked Helene. “He is quite gorgeous.” Helene nodded. “Yes, I just met him,” she said. “He is from the Czech Republic. I invited him to claim my address as his own so he could attend the University. At domestic rates,” she said. “Oh,” Rebecca said. “That was kind of you.” “Yes,” Helene said. “Your friend. She is an American?” “Yes,” Rebecca said. “She is staying with me just for the summer.” “She looks lovely in her new hat,” Helene said. “Thank you again for letting us have it,” Rebecca said. “She was made for it,” Helene said. “Tomorrow, then?” she asked, for the store’s bell rang at the front door, announcing the entry of a customer. “Yes, of course,” Rebecca said. We continued our shopping. I enjoyed my hat. It kept the sun off my face. I bought a ring with a diamond at another store. We ate a late lunch and then went home. That night we went dancing. We did not stay out late. When we came home we both went gratefully to bed. I was glad to be sleeping by myself. Yet as I drifted off I wondered about tomorrow’s tea. I felt a strange excitement. I guessed I might fall asleep tomorrow evening somewhere else, perhaps at 25 Bourbon Street. He met us at the door. Rebecca and I were outfitted in short dresses. My own fitted me like a corset. It hugged my middle. It was elaborately tied in back. Bra cups covered the lower curves of my breasts, just barely containing my nipples. The jellied mounds of my breasts bounced in the cups, their tops bared. The white flesh of my mounds caught Johnnie’s eyes as he opened Helene’s front door. I blushed. He smiled. My shoulders were nude, as was my back, down to where the dress hugged me with corset-like firmness. I was slipped as if into a vise, bare-legged, bare-shouldered, with my dress crossing behind the small of my back and covering my flat belly. Twin spaghetti straps tied behind my neck kept the cups over my breasts from falling away. A very short skirt, flaring out from the bodice of my dress, just managed to cover my bottom. I wore no stockings. But I did wear my new ring that I’d bought, plus a pair of high-heels. Around my ankles, the same color as my black dress, were two leather ankle straps. On my head was my straw broad-brimmed hat. Rebecca was dressed like me. She wore her straw hat. The sun glared down on us, excusing our skimpy attire. It was summer. We could dress salaciously without making a scene. Johnnie, for his part, was nude, save for a pair of Speedoes. I guessed he must have been swimming or, since his hair was dry, about to. I wondered at this, for were we not to have tea? I hoped he would join us. Johnnie grinned. He invited us inside. We stepped into a parlor. It had ornate decorations. Johnnie closed the front door behind us. As soon as he had, he put his thumbs in his swimsuit. He yanked it down off his hips, exposing his cock. He stepped out of it. He hung it on a peg on the wall. “I have to wear that to answer the door,” Johnnie said to us. We blushed. We gazed at his thing. It was huge. It quavered stiffly on the air, in time to his pulse. “I hope you don’t mind,” Johnnie said, glancing from us down to his cock. “It’s not my idea, going nude. Helene insists. ‘Mistress’ actually, is what I call her, in her home. She takes care of me and I perform various... services,” Johnnie said. He looked at us. He offered his brawny arm to Rebecca. “May I escort you to tea?” he asked. “I am no slouch in good-mannered gallantry, even if I am required to walk around without any clothes on.” “Yes,” Rebecca said, putting a hand to her lips. “Yes,” she said again. She let Johnnie take her arm. “Come, Chloe,” she whispered to me. Johnnie’s cock bobbed in front of him, like some obscene fleshy log, as he led Rebecca by her arm to the back of the house. Helene was there, sitting on an enclosed porch. Big trees in her back yard kept prying eyes from seeing Johnnie’s display. She sipped tea from an ivory teacup. “Hello, girls,” Helene said. “My, you dress wonderfully. And such nice hats! Please sit down. I hope Johnnie didn’t scare you? I prefer him naked in this summer heat. It keeps him cooler,” she said. I wondered at that. Her home was air conditioned, though the porch, being screened in, let in some of the summer heat. The glass doors leading out to the porch were drawn back, letting the air conditioned interior of the home cool the porch as well. It was wasteful, but elegant, I thought. The porch would have been too hot with the glass doors closed. The day was too fine to have tea inside. Johnnie seated Rebecca at the table, then myself. He had to be careful not to let his cock jut against our bottoms. I put my hands under my seat to get my dress under me, but it was too short, and I found myself sitting in my panties directly on the chair. Its seat was made of wroght iron, painted white. “Johnnie, get some cushions for them to sit on. The seats are too hard,” Helene said to our escort. “Really, I told you to do that earlier,” she scolded. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. He went into the house and came out a moment later with two lace cushions. He put them on a side table, where flowers stood in a vase. Then he picked up one and bade me lift up my bottom so he could get it under me. I complied. Blushingly I admired his naked cock as his strong hands fitted the cushion under my ass. I sat down too quickly, sitting on his hands. I let out a small cry and lifted my seat again. He adjusted the cushion, removed his hands out from under me, and told me to sit. I did. The cushion was soft. There was lace trimming around its edges. Johnnie placed a cushion under Rebecca’s fanny. She smiled. She adjusted herself on her new seat and tossed back her hair. Helene poured her tea, then me, passing the cups to us. “Mmm, it’s good,” Rebecca said. She sipped her tea. “Orange Pekoe.” “Yes, it’s perfect for summer, is it not?” Helene asked. “Johnnie, dear, why don’t you have a tie on? Go put on a tie for these young ladies here.” “Oh, there is no need,” Rebecca said. Johnnie left, then returned a moment later. A black bow tie was tied skillfully round the base of his cock. The bow part of it faced up, toward his chest. I gasped. Rebecca, beside me, gasped. His thing was extraordinarily long and, despite the tie at its base, it still stuck out usefully a good ten inches or so, providing plenty of meat for a girl who wished to pleasure herself with it. “It is nice, decorated that way, is it not?” Helene asked us. “And there is so much of him, one does not compromise its essential functions, doing it.” “No, one does not,” Rebecca agreed. She gulped at her tea. “It is essential that I see the male penis displayed,” Helene said. “For my business.” “Your business?” Rebecca asked. “Oh, I did not tell you?” Helene asked. She drew Johnnie toward her, clasping at his cock with her fingers. Instinctively he knew, somehow, to refill her cup with tea, and when he had, using a big silver pitcher on the table, he picked up a pitcher of cream and added a dollop of it to her cup. Then she took his cock and dipped the tip of it in her cup. She stirred her tea with the big knobby head of his dick. Mostly just the pee-holed tip of his cock touched her tea, for if his whole head had been plunged in it would have spilled all the tea from her cup. “Give me a bit of your pre-cum, Johnnie,” Helene said. She squeezed lightly on his veined shaft. Johnnie tensed his bottomcheeks. He uttered a slight groan. “Yes, that’s it,” Helene said. She lifted the tip of his hard cock out of her tea and watched as a big dollop of pre-seminal fluid oozed out of Johnnie’s penis. It plopped into her cup. “Mmmm,” Helene said. She brought the warm tea to her lips and sipped it. “He has such fine control,” she said. She let go of his cock. “Give our guests some, too,” she told Johnnie. “Oh, I--” Rebecca said. But Johnnie took her cup and, not allowing her to let go of it, drew it to his crotch. He dipped his cockhead into it. He winced slightly at the heat of the tea, then stirred her tea with his knob. Pre-cum, madam?” Johnnie asked. “Yes, please, if it doesn’t take too much out of you,” Rebecca said. She regarded him with awestruck eyes. Helene stood. She walked round behind Rebecca and put her fingers through Rebecca’s hair. She touched her neck. She loosened the ties there, the ties that held up the front of Rebecca’s dress. “Oh!” Rebecca gasped. “He must be inspired a little,” Helene said. I watched in amazement as Rebecca’s bra cups were loosened. They were part of her dress, yet separate, in a sense, for loosening the cups did nothing to lighten the tightness of the corset-like bodice of the dress around Rebecca’s middle. The cups fell away. Rebecca’s breasts spilled out. Their tips were cherry red, and hard, in contrast to the jellied mounds themselves, which were white and soft. Johnnie gaped at Rebecca’s breasts. They were quite lovely, and the sight of them caused his dick to deposit a droplet of pre-cum into Rebecca’s cup. “You also,” Helene said, coming round the table to me. “Oh, I do not want--!” I blurted, my tea cup hovering at my lips. I held it delicately. I wished to be ladylike. “Do not protest. It is summer,” Rebecca smiled at me. She watched approvingly as Helene undid the strings at my neck, causing my bosoms to pop from my dress. They jiggled freely. I felt the warm air upon them, cooled by the outflow of air from the house, and their tips stood up. Johnnie was brought round to me and I was forced by the intervention of Helene’s hand to offer my cup to him. We held it together as he drooled a droplet of precum into my tea. “It will add to its flavor,” Helene assured me. “And provide a taste of what is yet to cum?” I asked, lifting my eyes to her. I asked innocently, though it caused Rebecca and Helene to laugh. “You are wearing panties at the moment, my dear,” Helene said. “Perhaps you should take them off if you wish to enjoy Johnnie more fully.” “Oh, no. I do not wish to,” I said, quickly sipping my tea. “It is hot,” Rebecca said. She put down her tea. She lifted her hips. She slipped her hands within the abbreviated folds of her dress and pulled down her panties. “Yes, it is,” Helene agreed. Standing behind me, she did the same, pulling down her own panties and stepping out of them. They were white. Rebecca’s were black. “Put them on the table so he can see them,” Helene said. “It will inspire him more.” The two women placed their panties on the table as if offering silky gifts to Johnnie, though he was only our servant, an immigrant from the Czech Republic. He stared at them. I saw a quiver of a smile pass across his lips. Then it faded. A slightly haunted look came to his eyes. I wondered at it. Wasn’t he delighted to have three females at his disposal? Helene returned to her seat. Rebecca settled back into hers. Helene tossed back her head. She had long hair, fetchingly curled so that it formed a mane of loose curls that tumbled round her face and down over her shoulders. There was a blue ribbon tied into the back of her hair, in a bow. She wore no hat, as if hats were reserved for younger girls, like myself, to make me look sweet and childish. She had on a blue silk shirt with a high collar. It had long sleeves. Through it I could just make out the areoles of her breasts. They perked their nipples into the fabric of the shirt now as she sat sipping her tea once more, regarding our naked bosoms and Johnnie’s bare cock. She wore a miniskirt round her waist. Her legs were encased in white silk stockings that gripped her thighs, not needing garters to keep them aloft. Between the tops of her stockings and the hem of her skirt, her legs were bare. She opened them, not wearing panties anymore, her muff free to rub itself on the lace-trimmed cushion upon which she was sitting. Rebecca, also without panties now, wiggled a little on the deep cushion on which she sat. “It is pleasant, is it not, going without panties?” Helene asked Rebecca. My aunt smiled. “It is very pleasant, yes,” Rebecca said. “And cooler too.” I looked again at Johnnie’s eyes. He glanced at Helene’s tummy. It was bare, flat. Her shirt was purposely too short to cover it, though her sleeves were too long for her arms, the cuffs of them covering her hands out to her knuckles. Helene smiled. “I work him hard,” Helene said to Rebecca. The two women shifted their legs wider apart, letting the cool air from the house find their moistening slits between their legs. I longed, suddenly, to be without my own panties. I wanted to expose my quim. How delightful to sit bare bottomed upon the expensive lace seat cushion! To let it moisten with my pussy’s juices. I reached within my dress. I waited for Johnnie’s roving eyes to move away from me. He was admiring us all, as any male would, yet I sensed still that haunted look in his eyes. He looked from Helene’s tummy to my tits, then to the tits of my aunt. I lifted my bottom and slid my panties down my thighs. “Oh, she is doing it!” Helene said. All eyes darted to me. My privacy disappeared. I blushed, my panties ringing my knees. I contemplated, briefly, pulling my panties back up. I did not have to undress. Then the sinfulness of the moment, the feel of the pretty cushion pressed to my naked ass, got the better of me. I succumbed. With a glance at Johnnie’s big cock, I drew my panties down over my knees and let them drop to my ankles. “Take her panties, please, Johnnie, and put them on the table, where we can see them,” Helene said. The young man strode over to me. Despite the haunted look in his eyes, his cock bounced jauntily. He bent down. I gave a small cry as he grabbed the panties ringing my ankles. He forcibly picked up my feet. He disentangled the panties from my spiked heels. He walked over to Helene, holding them in his hand. He gave them to her. She held them up and admired them. They were small, pink. They had pretty red ribbons along their sides. “Yes,” Helene said. She looked at me, then at Rebecca. She smiled. There was a vengefulness in her eyes. She tugged at the panties, hard. “Oh, do not rip them!” I cried. I heard a tearing sound. They were expensive panties, made without the gosset. There was no extra layer of lining where my pussy lips pressed against the fabric. I watched as the crotch of my panties ripped open. Then, still pulling, biting her lip slightly, Helene ripped my undies even more. I felt tears spring to my eyes. Helene dropped my ruined panties on the table. Her nipples were quite stiff now, pushing into the fabric of her shirt like twin bits of coral. I feared the stiffness of the tips might put holes in her shirt. My own nipples, I realized, blushing as I felt tears on my face, were just as hard. Did I like being denuded, my panties publicly torn apart? I looked at Johnnie. Perhaps I hoped he would somehow rescue me from this indignity. Instead I saw a flicker of a smile cross his lips again. Then he licked them. Pre-cum drooled from the tip of his cock and fell on the floor of the screened-in porch. Rebecca, surprised by Helene’s violence toward my panties, now let herself relax once more and smiled at me. “You will not need them, dear,” Rebecca said. “But when we go home?” I asked. Rebecca looked into her teacup and said nothing. After a moment, she sipped her tea. “It is delicious,” she said to Helene. Our hostess reached across the table to where Rebecca’s panties lay. She plucked them from the table with her fingers. They had long nails. Rebecca gulped. Her own panties were without a gosset and Helene stressed them now, pulling at them, until the crotch of them ripped wide apart. Then Helene dropped them on the table and picked up her own panties. Despite the expensiveness of the fabric, she pulled at them until they tore open at the crotch. Then she pulled on them some more, until one of the frilled sides gave way completely, leaving her panties a stringy, useless wreck. She dropped them back on the table. “There,” Helene said. “Now we are all bereft, and can enjoy the freedom of our pussies. Is it not nice, to spread one’s legs and let the air intrude between them?” She looked at Rebecca. She put her hand between her legs and diddled her cunny with a pointed finger. Rebecca watched, wide-eyed, as Helene masturbated. So did I. The table hid the indecency of the act but there was no doubt at all where Helene had put her hand, for almost at once she gave a convulsive shudder. Then she sighed. “Ooooh,” she said. “That feels so good. It is summer and a girl should be able to sit outdoors, bare-bottomed, and give herself a bit of pleasure if she wishes, don’t you think?” Helene asked. “Yes,” Rebecca agreed. She was, I think, trying to be polite, agreeing with our hostess, but Helene took her at her word. “Then do it yourself, my dear,” Helene said. “There’s no reason to be shy. No one can see. And we needn’t feel like lesbians, for we have a man with us, to admire our suffering.” Rebecca glanced at Johnnie. I watched as Rebecca put down her teacup on the table. Then her hand left the table. It slipped, I knew without seeing, down between her legs. Rebecca jerked, her breath catching, as her finger touched her aroused slit. “Oh, yes!” Rebecca said. “It is pleasant, yet it makes you wish for even more, does it not?” Helene asked Rebecca. “Yes,” Rebecca agreed. “That is why I call it suffering,” Helene said. “It is sweet to suffer this way, playing in one’s slit, especially with a man so near.” “Yes,” Rebecca sighed. I gazed at them both, wide eyed. I held my teacup aloft, too surprised to drink from it, or to put it back down on the table. Helene looked at me. “You too,” she said. “Oh, no!” I answered. For I knew the moment I started, I would be unable to stop. I would shiver with ever-increasing need until I begged to be taken. “Yes,” Helene said. Her eyes looked at me with a hardness in them. I shuddered. I felt myself wanting, between my legs. I dropped my hand to the cushion, between my thighs, and flicked a finger toward my nest. “Touch yourself,” Helene ordered. “Oh, please don’t make me!” I cried. Yet Helene sat across the table from me, unable to reach over to where I was sitting. Her eyes alone commanded. “Please don’t make me,” I said again. “Chloe, be a good girl,” Rebecca told me. “By being bad?” I asked. Rebecca smiled. “Yes, by being bad, dear,” she said. Then she emitted an involunatry sigh as her own doings caused her to suffer the pangs of desire. I looked at Johnnie. First at his penis, then up at his eyes. Now I knew why they looked haunted. He was never free from Helene’s sexual plottings. She worked his cock like this every day, teasing him, making him use his tool again and again to serve her pleasure. And it was perverse, the way she used him, making him be naked, using his dick to stir her tea. I had no doubt there were many other tasks she had him perform, every day. And always, if it could possibly be done that way, she made him perform his jobs with his penis. This in addition to the normal round of fucking I knew she must demand from him every night. He was a walking dong, in her house. Always he had to keep himself erect and vulnerable. The rest of his body, though it was gorgeous, mattered little in comparison to his cock. Helene smiled. “Johnnie, have you watered the plants?” she asked. “No, mistress,” Johnnie answered. “Not yet.” “Please do so,” Helene said. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie replied. There were plants on the porch and Johnnie turned and walked to the nearest one. It was a rose bush. He put his hands on his hips. He thrust his cock carelessly into the mass of thorned branches that made up the bush. I watched, my breath catching, fearing he might pierce himself on a thorn. But he did not, thankfully, and a moment later, as I watched his buttcheeks tighten, I heard a pissing sound. Johnnie peed on the bush. We all watched. Helene licked her lips. Involuntarily my finger found my dell and massaged it. I heard myself gasp. “That’s enough, Johnnie,” Helene called out. I heard the flow of urine stop, abruptly. Johnnie’s asscheeks squeezed hard. He flexed his torso. I guessed he was flinging spare drops of urine into the plant, so they would not fall on the floor and be wasted. Then he turned. His big penis, still tied with the bow, presented itself to us again. “Do the others,” Helene told Johnnie. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie agreed. He walked over to a poinsetta and began peeing anew, into the pointy leaves. After a bit he stopped the flow of his urine again, squeezing his buttcheeks tightly. Then he walked over to a spray of narcissus flowers, growing in a clay pot. He aimed his cock at them and let his peed on them. Finally he turned and walked over to a cluster of tulip blossoms. He filled the flowered cups with his pee, overspilling them, making them bend under their newfound load and droop toward the earth. “I have no more... in my bladder,” Johnnie said to Helene, turning toward us again. I gazed at his balls, bulging with virile firmness between his legs. Would she make him jerk himself off on the remaining plants? I shivered. I felt my finger intruding in my dell but had not the will to stop it. I dithered it over my clitty and let out a moan. “Come here, Johnnie,” Helene commanded our servant. He walked over to her, his cock a big sausage of flesh that bobbed freely with his every step. Droplets of urine flew off the tip, the last errant remnants of his watering. Helene clutched at the head of his cock and inspected it. She put her teacup to it and gently submerged the tip in the hot tea. Johnnie tensed at the touch of the warm fluid to his cock. Helene bathed the end of his cockhead in her cup of tea to cleanse it of pee. When she lifted the end of Johnnie’s cock out of her cup she waited until all the tea had dripped off it. Then she put the big knobby head to her lips and sucked briefly upon it. Johnnie groaned. “I shall expect you to service our guests as eagerly and thoroughly as you serve me, Johnnie,” Helene said to the man, not looking up in his face, however, but keeping his eyes on his cock, addressing his pee hole. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. “You must make every effort to satisfy them,” Helene told the man, still looking at his cock as she spoke. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. The haunted look returned to his eyes, though he smiled, slightly. Helene looked at me. I gazed at her, my finger between my legs under the table, diddling my slit. I gave a sigh as my finger, paying attention to my nubbed clit, made it hunger for even greater attention. “Stand up,” Helene said. I drew my shoulders together. I crouched a little, recalcitrant, for I did not want to stop playing with myself, and did not want to be seen doing it, either. “Stand up,” Helene told me again. With a great sigh I leaped to my feet. I plucked my hand from my dell, only to put it back again, so great had my need suddenly become. With my pussy above the level of the table, I freely fingered myself, uncaring that they all could see what I was doing to myself. At the same time I told myself that I was hiding my cunt from their view, for my hand was over it, though one of my fingers was inquiring up within it. “Turn around,” Helene told me. I gave a sigh of relief. Of course! If I turned around they would see only my too-short miniskirt, just covering my bottom, and not see the front anymore, where my hand, intruding in my dell, caused my skirt to rise and display my furred mount. I turned on my spiked heels. As I offered them a view of my bottom I frigged myself more freely. I didn’t have to worry about hiding my nakedness now. I sighed as my questing finger delved deep in my lips. Helene’s next words shocked me. “Lift her skirt in back,” she told Johnnie. “I want to see her ass.” The man strode over to me. I glanced over my shoulder at him, still too hungry for something up my twat to spare it the touch of my finger. As I diddled myself, he gallantly lifted the back of my skirt, baring my bottom. Helene, sitting across the table, nodded. “It is a sweet tush,” she said approvingly. “It has still the pertness of a child’s bottom, the cheeks sticking out, while yet having the bell-shaped fullness of a woman.” Helene looked at Rebecca. “It is especially lovely that, even with the filling out of her hips, her ass is still small. I have a taste for spanking small bottoms. May I do hers? I promise I would soothe it afterward.” “She would look quite salacious wiggling it all about under the lash,” Rebecca agreed. Then she bit her lip and gasped as her finger, playing in her slit, brought her a new tremor of pleasure. “Yes, it would be delightful,” Helene said. She too gasped, thinking of paddling me as she played in her dell. As for myself, despite the wickedness of the proposal, I couldn’t stop frigging myself! “What... implements would you use?” Rebecca gasped to Helene. “A good sturdy paddle,” Helene answered. “She would have to be tied down, of course. I wouldn’t want her running around the house. She might break something.” “Of course,” Rebecca said. “You both arrived wearing ankle straps,” Helene said. “They’re quite sexy looking. Did you intend just to tease, or...?” “Perhaps not just to tease,” Rebecca replied with a fevered sigh. “Good. I had hoped not,” Helene said. “If the moment is right, perhaps you both will get to use them for their intended purpose,” Helene said to Rebecca. “Not just for decoration, but for their utility in rendering one immobile.” “Yes,” Rebecca gasped. She was quite excited by the playing of her finger in her cunt by now, as was I. We no longer had the good sense to say no to such silly ideas. I felt the air upon my bare bottom and shivered. “Tear off her dress,” Helene told Johnnie. “No!” I cried. But before I could think how to save myself, Johnnie, who was very strong, ripped the skirt of my dress off the corset-like bodice. A moment later I wore only the middle part of my dress, the cups of it undone from my breasts, the back torn away to permanently reveal my bottom. 30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Back issues (and stories): type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Click on “Quick Search”, then type in: roller39@idt.net Press your “return” key. Scroll to the very bottom of the page that appears. Change “Standard” to “Complete” roller39@idt.net is already typed into the window. Click in the window behind the “t” in “.net” Press your “return” key. -Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope 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. -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. -END OF story EMISSION -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |