Message-ID: <19234eli$9901220450@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: CLINTONS SPEECH -- A preview ! NND Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.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: <36A39888.2710@earthlink.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- CLINTON’S SPEECH -- A preview ! --------------------------------------------------------------- My Fellow Americans, As you know it is once again time for me to give my State of the Union Address. Generally I talk for an hour and a half and it is a pretty boring, long-winded affair. I was going to do the same thing again this year. Then I realized how boring and trivial I would look. Ken Starr gave you exciting reading in his Starr Report and there I would be, talking about stupid, boring things like better schools and medical care and how nobody should take drugs. So instead I am going to read you a sex story I wrote. (Of course, as you know, I actually have speech writers, so technically I didn’t write this but who’s to mind a little white lie? Especially when it’s told by me?) Oh yes, before I begin my story -- if you are expecting any promises from me this year, here they are: 1. A chicken in every pot. 2. Three cars in every three car garage. 3. A young Monica Lewinsky - type girlfriend for every guy. _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in SULTRY SPRING _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Eight The waitress was the same age as my aunt. Instantly we took a liking to her. She was, as my aunt described her later, “the perfect compliment to our meal, attentive, quick, and yet deliberate.” She knew how to pause discreetly when we wished to have more time. Yet she could be swift as the wind when we wished for attention. We were having dessert, ice cream-filled cake, smothered with hot chocolate syrup, when my aunt said: “May we reserve you for our next visit?” Our waitress blushed. She tugged at her apron. “I hope that didn’t sound demeaning,” my aunt added hurriedly. “Oh, no!” our waitress replied. “It’s just-- well, I have more than one job.” She tossed back her long golden hair, and continued fiddling with the front of her apron. “Oh I’m sorry,” my aunt replied. “What is your other job?” “I’m an exercise specialist,” our waitress answered. “A-- private specialist. By reservation only.” “Oh,” my aunt said. “Do you exercise people?” I asked. “Yes,” our waitress replied. She tossed back her hair again. She gazed at my aunt and my aunt shifted in her chair. “I could use some exercise,” my aunt said. Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. But our waitress heard it. “I work in a place called the gymnasium,” our waitress said. “It’s a private residence, actually, not a storefront like most places. I’m afraid they’re very picky about who they accept.” “Oh really?” my aunt said, and blushed, for she thought, I guess, that our waitress was turning us down. “Well you see,” our waitress said. “It’s a house. So it’s furnished. Very nicely, actually. Oriental rugs, fine antiques, chandeliers.” “My!” my aunt said. “I want to go there, auntie!” I said. “If you, um, came, there would be a substantial deposit required,” our waitress said. “In case anything breaks.” “Do you think something will break?” my aunt, still blushing, asked. “Probably not. But you never know,” our waitress replied. She tugged on her apron again. “I should like to come,” my aunt said. “What is the deposit?” “Well, there are two that are required,” our waitress said. “One monetary, and the other physical.” “Physical?” my aunt asked. Our waitress was blushing as much as my aunt now and she looked back quickly over her shoulder. Then, bending close to my aunt, she whispered into her ear. “What? What?” I cried, unable to hear. “Sperm?” my aunt asked, startled. “Yes,” our waitress said. “But-- but--” my aunt said. She was quite flushed now and she looked at our waitress and said, “I don’t make sperm.” “You must bring someone who does,” our waitress said. “The owner of the mansion wishes, for reasons of her own, for it not to become a haunt of lesbians. Hence you must bring a man.” “And then?” my aunt asked. “Then we will exercise,” our waitress replied. She reached in her blouse and drew out a card. “This is me,” she said. She pointed to the card. “See? It says here ‘Annette’. That’s the name I use at the exercise place, even though my name here is Tina.” “What’s your real name?” I asked. “That’s a secret,” our waitress answered. “I’d tell you but I’m not allowed. And you don’t need to give your real names either. Just pay the money and bring a man and-- oh-- you’ll need a note from a doctor also.” “Alright,” my aunt said. “Are we going to join, auntie?” I asked. “Perhaps,” my aunt said. She looked at me and smiled. “I want to work on my triceps!” I said. Then I wondered exactly where my triceps were, and patted my thighs, considering. “As your trainer, I’ll be deciding what parts we work on,” our waitress said. She lifted her hand and ran it through her blonde hair. “Also, I’ll be picking your attire. At this gymnasium, since it’s private, we do not dress quite the same as at other places.” “Oh.” my aunt said. “Do I have to wear a bra?” I asked. Our waitress looked over her shoulder. “Have your aunt call me. I can’t discuss any more of it here. But if you have the money, and can lasso a man, I think you’ll be quite pleased. If you don’t mind exerting yourself.” She smiled. Then, seeing we were almost finished with our dessert, she turned and went for our bill. He was powerfully-built, and well-tanned, despite the fact that summer was a month away. He showed up at our door unexpectedly. I was arranging my Hello Kitty things in the hall, on a display table I’d set up for them, when the doorbell rang. “Hello?” I asked. I opened the front door and stared up at him. “Who is it, Chloe?” my aunt called from the living room. “God!” I answered. I gazed up at him. He was quite tall and he had shoulders as broad and powerful as a bull. Yet below his shoulders, under the beef of his chest, he had a slim waist. Below his waist long legs stretched, muscular yet trim. “I’ve come to clean your pool!” the man yelled over my head. I guess he mistook me for a child. That sort of bugged me, but I suppose it was to be expected, since I was holding a big, neon-green Hello Kitty purse in my hand. My aunt came bustling from the living room. Her hair was pinned up. She’d been giving a light polish to the brass fireset by the fire place. She had an open can of Brasso in her hand. “The pool isn’t due to be cleaned until next week,” she said. “Oh. I guess I got the day wrong,” the man said. My aunt looked at him. There was a big grin on her face. “You mean the week,” she said. “Well, something,” the man replied. His eyes fell to my aunt’s prominent bust and he said, “Nice, uh, house you have here.” “Please come in,” my aunt said. The mansion that served as a gymnasium was located in a remote suburb of Paris. It took us awhile to drive there. We took the pool guy along. His name was James. He’d been given a clean bill of health by a doctor the day before and my aunt was delighted to have him along with us. “I exercise a lot,” James said. “I’m sure you do,” my aunt said. James was driving her car and she was sitting in the passenger seat. I was perched between them. It was a little crowded but I didn’t mind. James was fun to sit next to. I could feel the heat from his body and between his legs there was a noticeable bulge. He was wearing small white shorts, exercise shorts, that showed off his legs. He had on a t-shirt, and there was a sweat band around one of his wrists and his forehead. As for myself and my aunt, we wore t-shirts also, but they were crop-top shirts, for the day was warm. In fact it was so warm that we’d abstained from wearing bras under our crop tops. Our bosoms filled our small shirts. Our nipples, vaguely excited, poked gently into our shirts. I wondered if James, seeing how our breasts filled our shirts, had been thus induced to swell up between his legs. “I hope my boobies don’t bounce too much while we’re exercising, auntie,” I said, looking down at my chest. She smiled at me. “It is a private residence, Chloe. I think we will have the freedom there to bounce if we wish,” my aunt said. She laughed. “It will be pleasant, don’t you think? They have so many tiresome regulations at that fitness place we tried.” “Yes,” I agreed. “Which fitness place was that?” James asked. He glanced over at us both and I saw his eyes fall delightedly to our busts. “GymTime, it’s called,” my aunt answered. “A dumb place with dumb rules,” I said. “I was wearing my short shorts so I could run really fast on the treadmill and they told me my shorts were too short. They said I’d have to wear leggings underneath them.” “Leggings?” James asked. “Like stockings,” I said. “Not leggings that stop at mid-thigh but pantyhose-type leggings, that go all the way from your toes up to your waist!” “It’s owned by an American,” my aunt said. “Oh,” James replied. We drove on. The houses became grander and more widely separated, each with its own palatial yard. James glanced at a map he’d laid on the dash. Then he turned our car onto a leafy street. Broad-limbed trees plunged our car into shade and I felt immediately cooler. Of course our car was air conditioned but the heat outside was sufficient to keep the air conditioner overworked. Now, however, under the trees, it became pleasantly chilly within our car. We drove along under the trees to the end of the street. There a driveway beckoned. But there was a gate in front of it, which was closed. A man sat behind it. James honked. The man looked up. He studied our license plate and then nodded to us. We watched as he unlocked the gate and opened it. We passed within; James stopped just inside and retracted his window and asked the man if we’d found the gymnasium. “Yes, sire. Just go up the drive and park where you like,” the man answered. He spoke in broken English. He was unshaved, despite wearing a butler’s black suit, made of expensive cloth. He grinned at us and I saw he was missing teeth. James nodded to the man. He closed his window. The man set about closing the gate behind us and re-locking it. We ascended the drive. It was steep. When we came to the top of it James stopped the car and we got out. “Nice trees,” James said. We were surrounded by them. Pine needles were scattered on the drive. I reached down and picked up a pine cone. “Look, auntie!” I said. She smiled indulgently. James looked at the pine cone I was holding and said, “Keep it. You can take it to bed with you when you’re lonely.” I frowned. It took me a moment to catch what James was hinting at. Then, suddenly, I understood, and I threw the pine cone at him. I hit him in the crotch! “Ow!” James said. “You have a dirty mind,” I told him. “Chloe, be good,” my aunt scolded. “Come, let’s go ring and see who’s home.” The house was old, perhaps two centuries or more. I guessed it had seen a lot. Vines crawled up its brick face. Trees, crowded near, cast shadows upon it. Some trees were so close that their branches were pressed to the house, as if trying to find a way in through the mortices. “This sure is a strange place to exercise,” I said to my aunt. “It is elegant, don’t you think, Chloe?” my aunt asked. She glanced at me and I could see she didn’t want to hear me complain. James reached for my hand and I let him take it. There was a broad flight of steps leading up to the front door. The steps were made of stone. They followed the contour of the hill the house sat upon. We got a bit of exercise climbing up all those steps, for there were nearly 20 of them. When we got to the top I was winded and forgot to ring the doorbell, even though I’d wanted to. My aunt rang it instead. We waited a moment, in leaf-shrouded silence. I was amazed at how shady and cool it was. I felt chilly and my nipples stood out from my shirt. I blushed, wondering what Annette would think. Suddenly, the home’s front door opened. “Oh, hello!” Annette, formerly our waitress, said. She beamed out at us. If she noticed we wore no bras she did not make a point of it. “Come in, please,” she said. Her voice was casual. She wore a blouse and a skirt. She smiled at James. “You’re with them, I trust?” “Yes,” James said. Annette led us into a living room. It was sumptuous. The room was large and had a big chandelier hanging from its ceiling. The floor was carpeted. A floral design was woven into the carpet and I guessed it was hand-made, perhaps by nomads a century ago in the Orient. There was a fireplace at the far end of the room. Antiques, some European but some with a Chinese appearance, lined the mantle above it. The fireset was bronze, like my aunt’s at home, but someone had polished it to a gloss that my aunt’s only had when it had been worked on for hours. Annette motioned that we should sit in elegant hand-carved chairs placed in the middle of the room. We did, gingerly, for it felt odd to sit in such fine surroundings dressed only in our gym clothes. As soon as we had taken our seats a young girl appeared. She was younger than me, no more than 10. She wore a short skirt and a blouse, but walked barefoot on the rug. Her hair, unlike most girls her age, was elaborately done up, as if she were appointed to serve a queen. Indeed, she balanced, rather awkwardly, a tea service tray in her hands, and when she had walked over to where we were sitting she said, in a high, prim voice, “Tea, ma’am?” She spoke to my aunt. She had a British accent. “Yes, thank you,” my aunt said. She looked rather startled that we should be attended by someone so young. “Do you have any Coke?” I asked her. “No,” the girl said. She set down her tea service on a low table near our chairs. She picked up a silver teapot and poured a cup of tea for my aunt. “I’m afraid soda isn’t permitted, Chloe,” Annette said. She was lounging in a chair beside me and she reached over and stroked my hair. “It’s unhealthy, you see. Made of various artificial things. Tea is natural. You won’t get zits if you drink pure, natural tea, and eat healthy food.” “I don’t have any zits,” I told her. “Yes, good,” Annette said. I felt uncomfortable with her fingers in my hair but I didn’t know what to do. I squirmed in my seat. Still stroking my hair, Annette looked at my aunt. “In a moment I shall have to ask you to change,” she said. “You are dressed conventionally, as for a typical fitness place. But here things are not typical. We will not just be exercising the limbs here, as one would normally do. Here, since it’s private, we are free to emphasize all parts of the body. Even those parts usually covered up at a normal fitness place.” She smiled at James. “For instance, the sexual parts. Here they are always free. And have you ever exercised your lips and your tongue at a typical fitness place?” She looked at me. “Hmmm?” “No,” I said. “Here you will,” Annette said. “And you must not be bashful in doing it, either. You will be expected to show a sense of adventure with your tongue, putting it wherever I require.” My aunt, holding the teacup the 10-year-old girl had given her and looking rather anxious, said, “Perhaps we do not need to exercise our tongues.” “Oh, but if you are reluctant, that is all the more reason to do it,” Annette said. She smiled, her fingers flitting within the long locks of my hair. There was a lion-like glow to her eyes now. She seemed predatory, like a cat. Her fingers stalked down to my shoulder. Gently she took my arm. “Shall we go change?” she asked. “Oh, but I must drink my tea,” my aunt said. “Me too,” I said, as the serving girl passed me a cup. “We have all day to drink tea,” Annette said. “Indeed we shall be exercising our bladders as well as the other parts of ourselves.” She stood. She did it quickly and I nearly lost my cup as she dragged me to my feet. “Auntie!” I shouted. But my aunt’s curiosity had been piqued and she shot a sly glance at James. “What do you think?” she asked our companion. “I haven’t exercised yet today,” James said. “Then it’s settled. A fine stallion like yourself must exercise regularly,” Annette, still holding me, told him. “We all must. Come, Rebecca. May I call you Rebecca or do you prefer to take another name during your stay here?” “Rebecca will be fine,” my aunt answered. We walked from the sumptuous living room through a door, led by Annette, who dragged me along beside her by pulling me by my arm. I felt winded and afraid. Yet within my fear there was a small sense of excitement bubbling up. I let my feet drag on the expensive rug and Annette, noticing it, said, “Lift your feet, Chloe. Walk properly.” A moment later we were through the door, my aunt and James following. I was surprised to see that the living room, so elegant and well-appointed, had given way to an ordinary locker room. There were wooden benches, and metal lockers. In a corner a Sierra water cooler sat, with paper cups stacked beside it. “Let’s have our things off and then we’ll return to the living room and begin our exercising,” Annette said. She let go of my arm. She was wearing a simple blouse and skirt. She reached behind herself and caught hold of the skirt’s zipper and undid it. One moment she was discreetly dressed in her skirt and the next, the skirt fluttering down her legs, she stood before us wearing only her panties and blouse. James needed no further encouragement. He was already quite swollen in his crotch and, seeing Annette, he promptly unzipped himself. Perhaps he thought he was merely in some men’s toilet for instead of taking down his shorts he reached within them and yanked out his dick. It quivered in the air, surrounded by his still buttoned-up shorts, only the zipper of his pants open. It looked like a lance on its way to a jousting tournament. I gasped, not only at the lewdness of his display but also due to the fact that he must have been at least a foot long! “Why, James,” Annette smiled. “You look like you need to go to the bathroom.” “Don’t pee on me!” I scolded, for he was standing near me with his dick pointing at me. “Sorry,” James said. “We will be exercising quite vigorously and as such you will all be encouraged to drink a lot,” Annette said. She yanked up her blouse and pulled it over her head. She flung the blouse onto a wooden bench. Then, smiling at us, she reached behind her back and quickly undid her bra. Her breasts sprang free and even as they were still jiggling she threw her bra unceremoniously on top of her discarded blouse. By now her lovely hair was a little mussed and she tossed her head. Her long blonde hair flew about her and then settled on her shoulders. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and yanked them down. A moment later they lay in a tangle on the floor. Annette was stripped and ready for action, wearing only a pair of modest, low-heeled shoes. My aunt found her courage and pulled up her crop top. It cleared her breasts and, as she wore no bra, the passing of its tight hem over her swollen nipples caused them to quiver. I copied my aunt and yanked up my top. I too was braless, my stiff nipples wiggled like flexible thorns as my top cleared them. I tossed my shirt aside. My breasts bobbled salaciously on my chest. “Yes. Very good,” Annette said. “We will be exercising our nipples as well as our arms and legs.” She reached out her hand. She pressed a finger to one of my nipples. I giggled. “Don’t,” I said. “They will be sore in the morning,” Annette said. “But don’t worry. We have salve and such on the premises to soothe them.” “Oh! We will be staying the night?” my aunt asked. She had her fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts and she paused, having pulled her shorts down just enough to show the mound of her pubis. Half of it-- the waistband of her shorts cutting across her pubis and hiding the lower half. Neither she nor I wore panties beneath our shorts, again due to the heat of the day and our pique at having been bossed about at GymTime. “Yes. Of course you will stay the night here,” Annette said. With the same freedom she’d shown in touching one of my nipples she now displayed by grazing her fingers through my aunt’s half-revealed pubis. “Don’t,” my aunt said, echoing my own words, spoken moments before. “What a lovely mixture of feeling,” Annette said, still fingering my aunt’s pubis. “You are both shy and bold, going without underclothes, yet resisting me when I touch you.” “It- it was hot outside, that’s all,” my aunt stammered. “And they made me wear leggings at GymTime,” I said. “Hmmm, I have heard of that place,” Annette said. “So many rules.” She plucked at my aunt’s pubic hair with her fingers, rather like one strokes the fur of a pet. “Well, here we have rules too,” Annette continued. “But they are of a different sort. I suppose all exercise places have rules, but ours are devoted to opening and testing the body, not to covering it up.” Annette’s hand left my aunt’s pubis. She touched her own lovely thatch. Her fingers plucked at her own small triangle of fleece just as they had, moment’s earlier, touched the hairs of my aunt’s dell. She looked at James, with his big penis looming up from his manly growth of hair. “Are you excited, James? You certainly look it,” Annette said. “Uh, yeah. I could use some exercise,” James answered. “Unlike a normal fitness place, where you must wear a jock strap, here you can expect to have your cock remain free, so it can be put to work,” Annette said. “Yet you must not lose yourself. You are a grown man and I expect you to endure whatever exercise you are put to. To be blunt, your sperm must stay in your balls. Always your penis must remain erect. I do not even wish to see you drip pre-cum, James, if at all possible. You did notice how expensive the rug in the other room was?” “Yes,” James gulped. “We will be exercising in there?” my aunt asked, astonished. “Yes of course,” Annette said. “Servants are preparing it for us even as we dawdle in here. You have paid to exercise in luxury and no expense will be spared, either in your surroundings or in the thoroughness of your workout. That is why you will be expected to stay the night, Rebecca. This is no quick one hour workout. Here at the gymnasium we take pride in giving our clients a workout that stretches them to the limit.” Slowly my aunt drew down her shorts. I could see she was intrigued by Annette’s words, even as they frightened her. I myself was quite scared. I could feel butterflies swarming in my stomach. Yet as I copied my aunt, pulling down my shorts, exposing my bush, I felt a wetness between my legs. How exciting it would be to exercise in the nude, especially after being bawled out at GymTime! Secretly I wished the manager of GymTime could see me now. Would his penis stick out like James’, if he spied me working out in my birthday suit? “Very nice,” Annette said, looking at my bush as I slipped off my shorts. I blushed. It was strange having my venus thatch complimented. Especially by a woman. “You are 13, Chloe?” Annette asked me. Quickly she added, “May I call you Chloe?” “Yes,” I answered, to both her questions. “Have you been penetrated?” she asked. A blush, already in my cheeks, deepened. “You mean, is she a virgin?” my aunt asked. “Yes,” Annette said. “The vagina is as much a part of the body as anything else and we do not neglect any part of the body here.” “She is not suffering from any inconvenient blockages, if that’s what you mean,” my aunt replied. Annette smiled. “Good,” Annette said. “Such things can be troubling. I’m glad that was removed prior to her coming here. Now there is the matter of our attire, Rebecca. Chloe is but a child and it is fitting she should scamper about in the nude. As for you and I, however, being grown women, or nearly so, the preference is that we should be as elegant as our surroundings. Come, I have a corset I should like to squeeze you into. It will be tight and shorten your breath but that itself will be a kind of training. And don’t worry; it will leave your bosoms free, and your bottom and nest, so that you may be both subtly clothed and unclothed during your workout.” “Oh! But will it not inhibit me?” my aunt asked, shocked. We watched as Annette opened a locker and took from it a black corset. Annette ran her fingers down the front of the corset, holding it up for all of us to see. “It will inhibit parts of you, but more fully display other parts,” Annette said. “It will push up your breasts and make a more prominent display of your lovely nipples. This is just as well, since I want to concentrate particularly on them in the coming hours. At the same time, while hiding your belly, the corset will frame and make a sweet presentation of your bush. Again this is not to be disregarded since we will be stretching and filling that part of your anatomy in the course of the evening. Lastly there is your bottom, which the corset, squeezing your waist, will fatten and broaden. Again this is desirable, since your pretty ass will be the subject of much attention. It is the perfect place to apply encouragement. A well-laid whip there can do much to induce an exhausted client to exercise. At the same time, your ass has a hole, as you know, which is similar in its usefulness to the one at your front. It will not be neglected. It needs its own regime to stretch and fill it. Do not fear, Rebecca. Every part of yourself will be put to trials. Other places, like GymTime, may neglect certain parts of the body, but here we do everything.” My aunt was flushed. She gazed uncertainly at the corset. James, having taken off all his clothes, now put his hands on my aunt’s shoulders. “Don’t,” my aunt told him. “Hush,” James replied. “You have brought me and now I am eager to exercise, and to see you exercise too.” He kissed my aunt’s cheek. She shivered. Her will to resist must have broken completely at that moment, for she offered no resistance when Annette fitted the corset to her. We left the locker room dressed in a most curious manner. I was naked, save for white sneakers and short white socks. Yet Annette had insisted on brushing my hair in the locker room, giving it a high gloss and making me look as if I’d just stepped from a beauty parlor. As for my aunt, she was snug in her black corset. It was lined with whale bones and they gripped her like a vise. The corset shortened her breath and whenever she drew a breath her breasts, pushed up by the garment but with the nipples bare, quivered salaciously. At the same time her bottom, bare as her breasts, was forced down by the pressure of the corset. It had the effect of fattening her twin nether globes and accentuating their already distinctive rondure. In front my aunt’s cunt was framed by the corset and her bush showed with whore-like boldness. Meanwhile, below the declivity of her cunt, stockings rose up her legs to be caught and held by garters hanging down from her corset. My aunt was carefully dressed and yet undressed, teetering on high heels, a pearl choker around her neck completing the look of a tart in a brothel. Then there was Annette. She was dressed like my aunt. But instead of a black corset she wore one of gold. In addition to this, she held a leash in her hand. The leash was made of leather and it connected to the pearl choker around my aunt’s neck. Perhaps a less compliant captive might have risked breaking the string of pearls, but my aunt did not. In fact, despite her tall heels, which Annette had fitted her with, she walked with a certain celerity, so as not to damage the pearl choker she wore. In Annette’s other hand there was an even more intriguing leash. It connected to James. It did not connect to his neck, however. Annette had given James a leather strap in the locker room and told him to put it around his balls. James did so; we helped him, giggling. When he was bound at the base of his balls by the strap Annette hooked a leash to him. Now she drew him into the living room, giving gentle tugs on the leash which communicated her desire directly to his balls. “Oh! The room has been changed!” I cried. And indeed it had. The elegant chairs we had rested in were now pushed against the wall. In their place, in the center of the room, were several items. A vaulting horse, a trapeze, a ladder which leaned against a pole and, opposite the pole, a heavy oak table. I did not see anything remotely like the fitness equipment at GymTime. On a wall, to my shuddering surprise, I saw that a painting had been taken down and in its place, hung on small pegs, were an assortment of whips and paddles. “Oh, I do not wish to exercise here!” I said frankly. My aunt looked at me. “You did not have to come, Chloe,” she said quietly. She reached for James’ penis and managed to grab hold of it, without looking, finding it solely by touch, while keeping her eyes straight ahead, gazing at all the equipment. She fondled him and he stiffened further. Already he was quite stiff but now he reached a new extremity in length and thickness. James did not smile, however. Perhaps he feared spilling on the carpet. “Am I foolish not to collar you, Chloe?” Annette asked. She turned to me. She lifted a hand, still holding both leashes in both her hands, and extended a finger and touched my bare throat. James and my aunt stood docilely, my aunt collared about her neck and James about his balls. “I do not like your exercise room,” I said. I looked at Annette’s delicate hands and then at the paddles hanging on the wall. Suddenly a thrill seized me. Who had brought all these heavy things into the room? Whoever it was must be quite strong; the post was heavy, as were the other items. And they had heavy bases attached to them, so that they would not topple over. “Are we being watched?” I asked. My voice was breathless. There was nobody in the room but us, not even the girl who had earlier served us tea. Yet whoever had ‘decorated’ this room must have powerful muscles! “Perhaps,” Annette said. “I want you to reach up and take hold of the trapeze, Chloe. It will show off your lovely figure to great advantage and at the same time allow me to begin your exercise.” I put my fingers to my mouth. I gazed up at the trapeze, standing there in my birthday suit, clad in only a new pair of sneakers. I glanced over my shoulder at James. He stood behind me, his cock stiff, his balls hanging heavy between his legs. He flexed his hands. I wondered if he wished to grab himself with his hands, as men sometimes do, when they are unbearably hard. “Well, Chloe?” Annette asked. She smiled at me, indulgently. Yet her eyes glittered. I saw wickedness lurking in them. “Chloe, reach up and grab the trapeze,” my aunt urged. She wiggled her hips. She was sensuous, wet-lipped. I looked again at the bar hanging above me. How silly I would feel, stripped naked, hanging from that bar! Perhaps nudity was the perfect garb for exercise, after all the Greeks had held their Olympics nude, yet at the same time my nudity left me wholly unprotected. No panties protected my seat. No skirt covered my private. No bra cupped my breasts. James cleared his throat. He reached around me and took hold of my wrists. “Eeep!” I shouted. I felt his dong press against my bottom. Without trying to take advantage of his cock’s pressure against my ass, he lifted my hands. “No!” I cried. My protest was heartfelt. Annette saw it in my eyes. To my great surprise, just as my hands were bumping against the trapeze over my head, she told James to put me down. He did, which startled me even more. I rubbed my hands together. I stood upon the floor in my tennies and looked wide-eyed at Annette. “You see, Chloe? Everything is voluntary here. Yes there are whips and paddles and wicked things, but you are always free to refuse.” She smiled. “Up to a point,” she added. Immediately she turned and beckoned us over to the chairs we had sat in for tea. James took my hand and lead me. How strange it was to walk with him, hand-in-hand, after nearly being strung up by him! I glanced up at his face but he was preoccupied with the sight of my aunt’s bare, wiggling behind. We arrived at the chairs. They were shoved against the wall. Annette told James to arrange them in a semi-circle, so we might enjoy the view we would soon provide each other with. James obeyed. He left plenty of room between the chairs, but placed them so we could see each other when we sat. “Now, let’s sit and relax a moment, shall we?” Annette said. “We have much exercising to do soon, and I wish for us to be well-rested when we start.” I plopped into a chair. Immediately I crossed my legs. My bosoms wobbled nakedly upon my chest but my cunt was hidden from view by my thighs. Smiling nervously, I raised my hands and placed them over my tits. I shook my hair and let it fall over my hands. Annette sat boldly, her thighs apart, elegant in her corset and yet showing her pussy to us without reserve. My aunt tried to cross her legs but Annette, still holding the leash which attached to my aunt’s collar, gave her neck a quick jerk. “No, Rebecca. We will be exercising all our places and parts and you must not pretend otherwise. Sit easily, like the well-trained athlete you will soon be. Do not mind little Chloe; she is young. She must be taught to display her charms. But you are older and should know to do that already.” My aunt complied. She opened her legs and showed us her bush. Then, abruptly, glancing at James with his big erect cock, she crossed her left leg over her right. Annette scolded her and jerked on her collar again, but my aunt’s collar was made of pearls and too severe a jerk would break it. My aunt won, Annette lost. Angry at having been defeated twice in so short a time, once by me and once by my aunt, Annette tossed the leash connected to my aunt’s neck to the floor. I thought for a moment our game was at an end. But Annette was accustomed to dealing with “spoiled women,” I learned later, women who might say “yes” one minute and “no” the next. She smiled at both myself and my aunt and then clapped her hands together. One clap, but it was enough to bring the 10-year-old girl scurrying into the room. As I listened to the approach of her footsteps I glanced at James. He sat happily with his legs widespread. His cock was engorged with his blood and throbbed in time with his pulse. He was leaning back in his chair, relaxed. Beneath the stiff post of his penis his balls rested on the chair. How odd it was to see his hairy sac, happily bulging upon the chair’s expensive silk covering. He did not seem to mind that his cock, sticking out beyond the rim of his chair, dripped pre-cum onto the carpet. If Annette noticed, she said nothing. The 10-year-old girl appeared. Her hair was arranged as if to serve at the court of Louis the 14th. Each strand was combed and curled. There was a profusion of ribbons, each tied into a neat bow. Meanwhile, her feet were still bare. But now, between her deliciously perfect hair and her nude feet, her body was naked. She no longer wore her skirt and blouse. How strange it was to see this dolled-up, pubescent girl, her hair elaborately done, walking about in the nude! She was too young to have a thatch of hair where her legs met. Oblivious to the nakedness of her body, but patting the hair on her head lightly with one of her hands, she approached us holding a plastic container. It had a squirt nozzle. It looked like it had been made to cleanse the bowl of a toilet. “Yes, it is a container of Toilet Duck,” Annette told me, noticing my stare. “But it has been emptied and cleansed. Today it will be used for a nobler purpose. At least, I think it’s a nobler purpose,” Annette said. She shifted her hips farther forward on her chair. She opened her legs more completely. “Please serve me, Krissy,” Annette told the 10-year-old girl. Not quite believing what she was supposed to do, or so it seemed to me, the 10-year-old girl replied, “In the mouth, ma’am?” Annette laughed. “No, not in the mouth,” she said. She offered a more complete display of her cunt, arching her legs apart and showing her slit for all it was worth. “Right here, dear. Squirt me, please.” “Oh! But some will get on the chair, ma’am!” the 10-year-old cried. “Yes, Krissy. So it will,” Annette said. “But we must always be careful of such fine things, mustn’t we?” Krissy asked. “Well yes, darling, we must. And I did correct you for having your little friends in here yesterday. But now we are playing adult games. Please squirt me, and aim well. I do not want it all over me. Just where it counts. Right here.” Annette pointed. Her finger, small and delicate, directed Krissy’s attention to her bush. The girl blushed. Then, lifting the Toilet Duck and aiming it at her mistress, she squeezed the plastic container. A shot of fluid streamed from the nozzle of the Toilet Duck. It landed right between Annette’s legs. Krissy leaned forward and directed the stream all over the tight lips of Annette’s slit. The young woman gasped. She flung her head back. Yet she never closed her legs, and Krissy squirted her sex until it was soaked. A wet spot formed on the chair between Annette’s thighs. “Yes, very good, Krissy,” Annette sighed. Her eyes had closed but now she opened them. She pointed to my aunt. “Her next, Krissy,” she said. My aunt let out a small yelp. The girl approached her. My aunt sat rigid, her left leg crossed over her right. “Don’t worry, Rebecca. It is only honey, thinned with water,” Annette told her. “Open yourself to it. Please don’t be shy. I have had my dosage and now it’s your turn.” The small girl stood before my aunt. There was an expectant look on her childish face. My aunt blushed. Then, to my great surprise, my aunt uncrossed her legs. Her blush deepening, my aunt spread her lovely thighs. Krissy leaned forward and aimed between my aunt’s legs. She squirted. A shot of fluid hit my aunt squarely on her bush and my aunt shivered. “Oh, God!” my aunt gasped. She gazed down at herself as Krissy anointed her between her smooth legs. “Yes, delicious, isn’t it?” Annette, her own sex dripping wet, asked my aunt. “It is especially nice to be squirted when one is so excited already,” Annette said. “Enjoy the sensation of it hitting your bush, Rebecca. Your cunt is special in this place. Here we will pay particular attention to it. Stroking it, filling it, even hurting it a little.” She looked at James. “And of course his big prong will be subjected to the same treatment,” she smiled. “Imagine James’ big cock being put through its paces. Not just sexually, but tested against the stroke of a whip, too. We have such things here, hanging on the wall. Penis whips, they’re called. Slim and small, made to bite into the stiffened flesh of a cock and leave red lovemarks upon it.” “Ohhhh!” my aunt sighed. Between the squirting and Annette’s words, she looked about to cum on her silk-covered chair. “Enough, Krissy!” Annette told the girl. “Our intent is merely to tease at this point. Rebecca must contain any deeper desires for later in our training.” Krissy ceased her squirting. My aunt looked forlorn. She sat with her legs apart, her sex drenched, a wet spot on her chair between her legs. Krissy turned and, without being told, advanced upon me. I blanched. I felt my back go rigid. “Open yourself, Chloe,” Annette said. “Open wide!” Krissy chortled. James looked at me. “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” he told me. “You can’t help but show yours,” I said with feigned disgust. I looked at his cock, sticking up between his legs. How big and knobby it was! His long, veined shaft was surmounted by a purplish crown. He seemed proud of it. You might have thought he was showing off a prized stallion, the way he sat displaying his wicked thing. He grinned at me. “Have you ever been fucked up your ass?” he asked me. His words were casual, as if he were asking if I’d ever visited Disneyland. “Yes-- I mean, no!” I lied. I squirmed in my chair. I did not like knowing that, with his big cock sticking out like that, James was thinking of my ass. “And how about you, Krissy?” James asked. Quickly the girl turned her head and looked back at him, over her shoulder. “Nooooo,” Krissy said. “James, you dirty man. She is only in elementary school,” Annette scolded. But then she laughed, seeing Krissy cringe, her small bare bottom displayed so freely to James, and I think she would not have stopped him if he’d leapt from his chair and forced himself upon her. Perhaps to protect poor little Krissy, I opened my legs. Immediately James’ attention returned to me. He licked his lips as he stared up my thighs, and at their vulnerable juncture. A small trimming of hair adorned my 13-year-old cunt. Krissy turned and looked at me and aimed her bottle. “Ready, ma’am?” Krissy asked me. “Miss,” I corrected. “I’m not allowed to miss, unless it’s an accident,” Krissy told me. “No, I mean, I’m a miss, not a ma’am,” I told her. “Ooops!” Krissy said. At once she squeezed her bottle, and I felt the fluid strike me right between the lips of my cunt. I was dazzled by the sensation. The warm fluid squirted deliciously upon me. I stretched my thighs wider apart and welcomed the fluid within me. I threw back my long mane of hair. I let my hands fall from my breasts and shook my tits freely. “Oh! Keep going!” I blathered, when I felt the stream suddenly stop. “Don’t worry. Your little pussy will get lots more attention,” Annette told me. I looked at her, my chest heaving, gasps escaping my lips. Then I watched as little Krissy walked up to James. He grinned. He spread his legs and offered her the extended prong of his cock. It was already quite a well-displayed item but now he shoved himself right to the end of his chair, so that his penis hung heavily over a good foot of the carpet. “Oh, I will stain the rug,” Krissy said. “Squirt me or I’ll make you turn around and shove this up your ass,” James told her. His words must have startled her, for suddenly the bottle slipped from Krissy’s grasp. “Oh my!” Krissy said. She turned and bent down and picked it up. Perhaps she didn’t need to turn around, but she did anyway, and bent so that her bottom, in all its nude, childish glory, was presented to James’ eyes. “Oh God! Such a sweet little ass!” James cried. “Are you excited by Krissy’s bottom, James?” Annette asked. “Yes,” James answered. The little girl hastily picked up her bottle of Toilet Duck. She spun around and faced James. As if to fend off his gaze, she aimed her Toilet Duck at his dick. “This contains hot lava,” Krissy told James. Her voice was high and giggly. Then she squirted him. “Ah!” James exclaimed. He watched as the fluid hit his cock. Krissy began by wetting his cockhead, squirting him right in his pee hole. Then she moved the stream around, squirting his knob, and finally, with grand, sweeping gestures, she wet the length of his shaft. “Now you will go up me more easily,” Krissy said. Then, releasing a flood of giggles, she dashed from the room. I think James would have jumped from his chair and raced after her, but we were there, all of us with our cunts wetly displayed, and the sight of so much available pussy made coy little Krissy seem, I think, just a tad too difficult. “How pleasant it is to sit like this, is it not?” Annette asked us. “But we do not have forever. Let’s get up. I have a treat for Chloe.” We rose. James took my hand. Annette picked up the leash connected to my aunt’s neck and, at the same time, once more took hold of the leash connected to James’ balls, which she had allowed to drop to the floor. James led me by my hand while Annette, leading the way, tugged upon my aunt by her neck and James by his balls. Dripping freely, we walked across the expensive carpet to the fire. It burned slowly upon logs whose scent filled the room with a pine-scented smell. As I felt the fire drying the honey upon my sex, Annette reached up to the mantle. She took down one of the ornate bottles. I saw it was an atomizer. It had a round, decorated base. Connected to it was a small rubber length of tubing. At the end of the tubing was a squeeze ball. There was, jutting up from the decorated base, where the tubing connected, a tiny golden nozzle. “Turn around, Chloe,” Annette said to me. I gazed into her face. It looked serious, not playful. Slowly I turned, my eyes passing from her face to the wall where the whips and paddles hung. As I turned I asked, “Why?” It was soft-spoken, feather-like. “Because James is going to whip your bottom, Chloe,” Annette said. “To make you exercise. While you hang from the trapeze. I fear James will be too kind to you. This will sharpen and increase the sting, and make you feel the whip more.” She squirted me. I leapt onto my toes as I felt the ornate bottle release its fluid onto my bottom. It was a small squirt. The nozzle was tiny. “Hold still, Chloe,” Annette said. “I do not want my bottom to be hurt,” I said. Gently my aunt took my hands. She drew them in front of me. She kissed my cheek. Annette squirted me again. Once more I shot up onto my toes. James laughed. Slowly, with careful squeezings of the bottle, Annette anointed my behind. She sprayed me not just on my cheeks, but within my crevice also. I wondered if the whip would bite me there. “Do not play with yourself, James. You’ll get honey all over your hands,” Annette said. Meanwhile she continued to squirt me. James’ face reddened and he took his fist from his penis, where he’d begun to pleasure himself. “Lick the honey off your palm, James,” Annette told him. “What?” James asked. “It will serve you right, for handling yourself. Your penis is reserved exclusively for us girls. Put your hand to your mouth and taste yourself, James. Perhaps if you have to eat your pre-cum, you won’t be so eager to masturbate.” James put his palm to his mouth. He licked it. I shivered. How odd it was to see a man licking his pre-cum, even if it was flavored with honey, while I myself was having my ass anointed for a whipping! The same hand James was now licking would, I guessed, be the hand that whipped me, for it was his right hand. I looked at my aunt. She looked at me. Our nipples were sharp-tipped as needles, looking for something to poke. “Auntie, don’t let me be whipped,” I begged. “It will stimulate you,” my aunt said. “It will hurt,” I protested. Annette put the bottle back up on the mantle. My aunt released my hands. James took my hand in his, the one he had just finished licking. It was wet, and a little sticky. He led me over to the trapeze, my aunt following, leashed by her neck while James remained leashed by his balls. Annette followed them both, as if being pulled by horses, handling the twin leashes like a coach driver handles reins. I looked up again at the trapeze. I shuddered. Dangling from it, I would be deprived of the use of my hands. Nothing would keep me from being used in whatever manner they pleased. “I cannot,” I said. “What? You still refuse?” Annette asked. “With your bottom all wet, prepared for the lash, and your pussy titillated?” “You let me say no last time only to tease me more,” I said ruefully, looking over my shoulder at her. I tensed my cheeks. James’ cock was throbbing mightily, as if he expected to be satisfied soon. How big and quivery his cock was! Did he really fancy putting it up that 10-year-old girl’s little ass? I wished she were here now, perhaps she would be strung up instead of me. “Alright, you wet-bottomed hussy,” Annette said. “We’ll play one more game, since you still refuse. Come. Let’s have a look at the whips. I want you to choose one for yourself.” Trembling, I let James lead me over to the wall where the flagellums hung. I saw every type and variety. Round paddles, like you might play a game of ping pong with. Narrow paddles, delivering a sharp, well-directed stripe. Then there were whips, too many to take note of them all, and canes, and long, wickedly dangling straps. “Well?” Annette asked me. “M-Must it be a whip?” I asked, hoping perhaps one of the big, round paddles would be easier to take. “Yes,” Annette said. “Hurry and pick before your bottom dries.” “I--” I stammered. “She’s looking for a whip in the shape of a feather,” Annette laughed. “This one, then!” I said boldly, pointing. It was a devious looking lash, the leather twisted tight, separating at the end into two tails, each with a knot on the end of it. “My, you are braver than I thought,” Annette said. She took down the whip and handed it to me. I felt it upon my palms. It was light, yet I guessed that, well-applied, it would sting like the dickens, especially with those knots at its tips. “Give it to James,” Annette told me. “Here, James,” I said. My voice quavered. I lifted up my hands. He looked at me. The tips of my nipples quivered beneath my offered palms. The twin tails of the whip dangled through my fingers. Laughing, James took the whip out of my hands. “Don’t expect to sit down if we have another round of tea,” James told me. We returned to the trapeze. Once more I looked up at it. I stood with my thighs tight-pressed together. Then, without being asked, I lifted my hands. I reached for the cuffs that dangled loosely beneath the bar. I caught hold of one of them, then the other. “Strap them around your wrists, Chloe, and then grasp the bar,” Annette told me. I did as she said. My whole body trembled as I did it. My bosoms wobbled on my chest, showing off my stiff nipples. My cunt wettened between my legs, moistening itself, its dew mingling with the honey already squirted there. “Very good,” Annette said, when I had bound one of my hands into a cuff. “James, do her other hand for her. She cannot do it herself.” James complied. When he was done I stood with my arms upraised, on tip-toe, my wrists bound in the cuffs, my fingers clinging to the overhead bar. “Now I will raise you a little, Chloe,” Annette said. “Grip the bar tightly. I don’t want all the pressure to be placed on your wrists.” “Ooooh!” I said, as the bar was raised. I looked at my aunt. She smiled, wanly. Her fingers played upon her thighs and I think she wanted to dip them into herself. But the honey prevented that. She did not want to be forced to lick her fingers clean, and taste her own sex, as James had been forced to taste his pre-cum. Strung up like an animal for slaughter, I dangled in my bonds. James struck the air behind me with the whip. “No!” I shouted. “She is still resistant, even when it is quite useless,” Annette said. “Exercise her well, James. As for Rebecca and I, it is time Rebecca exercised her tongue. Come dear. Let us take to the chairs. Or, rather, I shall sit, while you kneel before me.” CRACK! The whip landed on my bottom. I shrieked. Oblivious, my aunt let Annette guide her over to the silk-covered, hand-carved chairs by the wall. I watched my aunt’s bottom wiggle as she walked. She was excited, not only by the honey dripping from her cunt but, I guessed, by my screams as well. Her ass was as bare as mine. I hoped she would feel the whip too before the night was out. I think she knew she would feel it. Discreetly, as if taking her seat at a ladies’ social, Annette sat down on one of the chairs. She did not seem to mind that it was the chair I had formerly sat in, and that there was a big wet spot on it. When she had seated herself she looked up at my aunt. She still held a leash connected to my aunt’s throat and now she gave it a brief tug. “Sit, Rebecca,” she said. My aunt looked around for a chair, but the nearest one was off to the side. “No, Rebecca. Sit down on the floor,” Annette said. CRAACK! The whip struck me again and I wriggled fiercely. My legs opened and I showed my cunt, even as my bottomcheeks squeezed tightly against the smart of the leather. My bosoms bounced. James laughed. “What a fine display you make, when you have the whip to inspire you,” James said. “Indeed,” Annette said, looking at me. At the same time, with my aunt seated on the carpet in front of her, Annette lifted up one of her legs and placed it on the arm of her chair. This made Annette’s cunt wide open and, seated thus, she clapped her hands. The 10-year-old girl rushed into the room. She was naked as before, but her hair looked slightly mussed now, as if someone had been passing their hand through it. “Yes, ma’am?” Krissy asked. Her face was flushed. She seemed desirous of putting her hands between her legs, but didn’t, for Annette was glaring at her. “Is the gardener inside or out?” Annette asked. Her voice was sharp. “Inside, ma’am,” Krissy said in a quavery voice. “I told him not to fondle you,” Annette said. “We’re only playing, ma’am,” Krissy answered. “Don’t worry. I fondle him back!” Annette rolled her eyes. “Go get a feather out of my bedroom, Krissy,” Annette said. “The long ostrich feather. The one I use on you when you cannot sleep.” “Oh! Are you going to use it on me now? It’s only daytime,” Krissy said. “No,” Annette answered. “I want you to use it on her.” She pointed to me. Krissy turned and looked at me hanging from the trapeze. “Oh, it will make her all tingly,” Krissy said. “Yes,” Annette told her. “Make her all tingly with the feather.” “What- what is he doing to her?” Krissy asked, seeing James, who had momentarily paused, lifting his whip. There were tears in my eyes. “He is exercising her bottom, Krissy. And while he does that you are going to exercise her pussy.” “Oh, goody!” Krissy said. Then James struck me and Krissy nearly leaped to the ceiling. “Yeeeouch!” I cried. “She is being spanked!” Krissy announced. “Yes, Krissy, but she needs her pussy tickled, all the same. Go get the feather and do it,” Annette said. Krissy raced from the room. I was sobbing when she returned, having received yet more blows on my bottom from James. Krissy looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, holding the big feather she’d gotten out of Annette’s bedroom. Then, smiling a little, she twirled the feather and applied it to my dell. “This will make you happy,” Krissy told me. I felt the feather insinuate itself between my cunt lips. My stomach tightened. My bosoms heaved. My legs wrenched apart, loving the feather even as I wished I could resist it. James let fly with the whip again and it struck my behind. “Ooooooch!” I shouted. Krissy giggled. She kept the feather in my cunt, twirling it devilishly. Gazing at my cunt while listening to me cry, she said, with smug satisfaction, “You’ve been bad!” Meanwhile, Annette had leaned back in her chair. In this sensuously relaxed posture, she invited my aunt to stick her tongue into her. “Right here, darling,” Annette said, pointing to her pussy. “Right here between my legs. You’ll find it most humiliating to lick another woman’s cunt, I suppose, yet it will prove an ideal way to test your tongue. My responses will show whether you are being truly diligent or not. Work your tongue well. I will have you whipped extra hard if you do not.” Strangely, my aunt obeyed. Assuming a kneeling position, my aunt leaned forward and pressed her head between Annette’s legs. The woman swooned as she felt my aunt press her tongue-tip into her dell. “Yes!” Annette cried. With cat-like tonguings Rebecca delved into Annette’s cunt. How oddly elegant they both looked, still clad in their corsets, each wearing shimmering stockings, their cunts and asses bare but with glittering heels on their feet. “Oh, yes!” Annette cried. Her voice sounded almost savage as she grabbed my aunt’s pretty hair and stuffed her face more deeply into her sex. “Lick me right there!” Annette begged. Dutifully, my aunt licked. “You need your pussy tickled,” Krissy told me. She continued to torture me with her feather. “God, what an ass!” James cried. He gave me a blow of the whip that was very strong. It blazed into my cheeks and made them quiver like jello. I shouted at the pain. I tightened myself, in back, while in front my legs splayed wider, letting Krissy push even deeper with her feather. “Well! What a time we have had,” Annette said sometime later, when I had been let down from the trapeze and my aunt’s face looked rather silly, her lipstick all smeared. Red marks decorated Annette’s cunt. Freely Annette touched herself and smiled at my aunt. “You need to have your lipstick repaired,” she said. “But you were very diligent. There will be only a light whipping of your behind as a result.” “Oh. Good,” my aunt said. Her hands flew to her bottom. She cupped it and felt it with her fingers. “Mine hurts,” I pouted. I had my hands on my ass. It felt quite hot and burny, as if I’d been given a sunburn. “Yours hurts because you were so resistant,” Annette told me. 30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -----Back issues (and stories): http://www.dejanews.com/ Click on “Power Search” in the middle of the screen. Change “standard” archive to “complete” archive. Type: roller666@earthlink.net into the “Power Search” box. Click on “Find” (the button to the right of the box). -----Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated Or via the Web: http://www.eroticstories.com http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/ -----Great books by David Hamilton: The Age of Innocence, A Place in the Sun, Twenty Five Years of an Artist. By Jock Sturges: Radiant Identities Need a book? http://www.amazon.com -----Great sites: http://www.nambla.org http://www.AlessandraSmile.com -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. All rights reserved. - Visit me: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html -END OF story EMISSION -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----