Message-ID: <34462asstr$1010153414@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail X-Original-Message-ID: From: Andrew Roller Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.net MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 04 Jan 2002 03:45:00 PST X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Fri, 04 Jan 2002 11:45:00 GMT Subject: {ASSM} night games, chapter one Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2002 09:10:14 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, RuiJorge - NND --------------------------------------------------------- Visit my FTP site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/ <--click Click, or put the address into your browser. All my stories are there. --------------------------------------------------------------- GOD BLESS AMERICA Imagine if all the terrorists had been too busy reading sex stories to attack the World Trade Center? Five thousand lives would have been saved, and nobody would have had to jump out of the world's tallest building. (Admittedly, the television in the month of September wouldn't have been as exciting.) As part of the Homeland Defense Initiative, I have tasked myself with writing more sex stories, hopefully even steamier ones. This is in hopes of keeping terrorists like Mohammed Atta (or whatever his name was) too busy jerking off to attack people. The terrorists were young men. They visited a strip joint and rented some porno movies. Obviously the problem is not that there weren't enough checkers at the airport (who weren't required to stop people with box cutter knives anyway.) It's that the porno industry has failed our country. Had the strippers these terrorists saw been better, or had the porn been hotter, they wouldn't have managed to get their pants zipped up and go attack an airplane. Larry Flint, shame on you. Our country would be safe today if you made suitably obscene pornography. You have let our nation down. Yes, it has fallen to me, holy joe, a poor hobo living in an outhouse, to rescue America. I would prefer to sit quietly and read the Bible, but our nation's safety demands that I act. Please don't think I'm a pervert when you read this story. It is written exclusively for horny terrorists, in hopes of averting future terrorist attacks. 30 Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in Night Games Chapter One "Ouch!" Cindy's mother said as she bent down to get a pan from the kitchen cupboard below the countertop. Cindy, who was eating toast smeared with jam at the breakfast table in their little apartment, looked up from the mouse cartoon on their portable T.V. They were new in L.A., had just arrived two weeks earlier, and this was the second time in that period that she had awoken to find her mother curiously disabled. The young blonde woman stood and brushed back her hair, her other hand on her behind. It was an ass that Cindy was just beginning to realize men craved. High, firm, the cheeks deliciously inviting, with just the right amount of fat and proportion. Men were amazed when they learned that Cindy's mom had a child. But that had been so long ago, when the model thin blonde was only 12. Cindy was that age now, and her awareness of the opposite sex was just dawning. Mom was a catch; she was just learning that, and she was beginning to suspect, despite her tender years, that she might be a catch too. Boys, even cute ones, turned their heads and stumbled when Cindy walked down the street. They suddenly had trouble talking, though back in Idaho, in earlier years, they'd had no trouble teasing her on the playground. Now, in a new city, Cindy was more aware of herself than ever. She was wearing her first bra, and a big one at that, for her mother had delayed buying her one, instead purchasing ever larger and looser shirts for her. Men, who hadn't seemed to notice her back in their small town in Idaho (where word travelled fast), now looked at her with abandon, making her afraid they might try to kidnap her. Cindy shook her hair back, which was blonde like her mother's. She hadn't bothered to comb it and already her mom had surprised her by not scolding her about it. She still had her P.J.'s on from bed, the mouse ones that matched the cartoon she was watching. Her mother wore a long flannel gown but despite its soft easy comfort she seemed to be in some degree of pain. "Are you okay, mom?" Cindy asked. She had just recently stopped calling her "mommie". A girl who had visited three days before, a new friend at school, had teased her when she heard Cindy call her mother that. "Yes, I'm fine," Cindy's mom answered. She still didn't have the pot and she bent again, gingerly, and made a second try. She held her ass the whole way down, as she bent, and Cindy watched her. "You don't look okay," Cindy said, as her mother retrieved the pot. By some unfortunate accident just then, on the T.V., the little mouse who had such grand adventures began hitting the big bear on his ass with a stick. Cindy heard the bear's anguished moans on the T.V. and turned to look, then looked back at her mother. Even a six-year-old would have been able to make the connection. "Did Dave spank you?" Cindy asked. Immediately she broke into giggles, and the half-chewed toast in her mouth, slathered with jam, came spitting out a little, onto her plate. Cindy's mom turned. Her face was red. "No, nobody-- ooch!" Cindy's mom, whose name was Sasha, said, her denial interrupted by another flash of pain as she imprudently put one foot forward to walk across their kitchen. "Dave DID spank you!" Cindy cried, and her eyes were full of mischievous glee, albeit of an utterly innocent variety. Sasha reddened more and then managed to walk to the stove, and place her pan upon it, treating the fact of her behind's condition as something that could no longer be denied, but that didn't need an explanation either. She waited for her daughter to finish laughing, turning on the heat under the pan, and hoped there would be no more questions. But of course, Cindy being 12 and not so completely absorbed in the adventures of the little mouse as she would have been, say, a year ago, there were. "Why did Dave spank you? I thought he was taking you to a party," Cindy said. "He did take me to a party," Cindy's mom answered. She turned and attempted to walk to the refrigerator to get some eggs, only to have her hand fly to her ass again. "Did he spank you after the party?" Cindy asked. In frustration, upset with the questions but even more with the pain in her buttocks as she tried to cross the kitchen in front of her daughter, Cindy's mom answered, "No, he spanked me at the party." It was an imprudent remark, and as Sasha was aware of Cindy's eyes widening she knew just how ill-advised it was. Cindy might be only 12, but going to school in L.A. now, and junior high at that, she had already picked up a few rumors about sex. Cindy's questions did not cease. They continued after school, despite the fact that her mother was no longer hobbling around. The idea that her mother had been spanked at a party, which conjured up visions of being spanked in front of people, caused the girl no end of curiousness. One question followed another and finally, that night, after blushing and dodging through dinner at their little kitchen table, Cindy's mother decided to sit her daughter down and explain everything. Or, at least, as much as she could without completely embarrassing herself. "Cindy," Sasha said to her daughter as the little girl plopped down next to the woman so many men craved, and, in L.A., craved to do obscene things to. "Sex isn't just about two people making love." "It isn't?" Cindy asked, her eyes wide an innocent, but sparkling with a knowledge gained from school yard rumors and watching her mother grab her behind. "No. Sometimes it involves other things," Sasha said to her daughter. "Like being spanked in front of everybody?" Cindy asked, no longer able to hide her glee at such an awful and yet intriguing event. "I wasn't spanked, Cindy," Sasha said. "I was whipped." Cindy's eyes, already wide, sprang open further. She had seen a horse whipped by a rider in Idaho. Had her mother been a horse? Not entirely cognizant of where her daughter's innocent alarm was taking her, Sasha continued, "And you shouldn't get angry at Dave for doing it, either, because I was told in advance that it would happen to me." Sasha reached down and stroked her daughter's long blonde hair, straightening out the locks with her fingers, for the girl had again failed to brush it, after playing out back, despite her mother having told her to. "You went to the party even though you knew you'd be hit with a whip?" Sasha asked, imagining her mother shod hand and foot in horse shoes, and forced to bear Dave on her back, like a beast of burden, a bit in her mouth and blinders along the sides of her face, as Dave hit her and told her to gallop. "Yes, and it wasn't just Dave who hit me. Other people hit me too. I was the guest of honor last night," Sasha said. "And-- and the previous time, when you saw me like this, it was just two people who hit me, because I was new to the group." "What group?" Cindy asked. "The group that parties," Cindy's mom answered. She straightened her daughter's hair some more with her fingers and said, "Honey, I've tried for a long time to be, well, a good example for you. I don't know if you realize it, but I didn't date much in Idaho, because I wanted to be home with you, and not leave you with some teenage sitter who might--" Cindy's mom blushed, for that had been how Cindy had been conceived, "Who might, you know, have invited her boyfriend over. Then you might have come across them having sex, and I didn't want you to find out about sex too soon, and certainly not from your babysitter. So I stayed home with you, and I didn't see many men." Sasha paused. Did her daughter need more? She looked at the girl's big blue eyes, so similar to her own, and then she was aware of her daughter's growing breasts, which pushed forth with lovely promise into her blouse, which, although only recently purchased, was already too tight for her. It wasn't one of the big loose blouses that her mother had previously bought for her, but a sexy belly-showing blouse, like the girls wore at Cindy's school. Yes, Sasha realized, her daughter needed more. Sasha tossed back her own lovely blonde head, clearing her eyes of two strands of hair that had fallen into her vision as she spoke, and went on. "I didn't just come to L.A. to take the secretarial position I was offered," Sasha told her daughter. "Sure, it pays more, but I came for myself as well," Sasha said. "I was feeling restless. About men, I mean. There wasn't a whole lot to do in Boise and I wanted to, well, experiment," Sasha said. "I'd heard things and finally a mood just took me and I said, `Alright, I'm going to find out about this. My daughter is old enough. She's wearing a bra now, she's having her period." Cindy blushed, but her interest in her mother's words remained undimmed. "So I decided to come to the place where I knew things would be fast and where I knew I could get some answers. And I have," Cindy's mom said. She shifted her behind on the couch, as if to relieve some nagging pain. "Twice," she added, and blushed and laughed. "And I want to get some more answers," she told her daughter. "It hurts, but I don't want to stop now, because it's exciting, and I haven't been excited in a long time." Sasha suddenly became defensive. "I deserve to be excited, don't I?" She asked her daughter. "I mean, I had such a strict father, and then I did what I shouldn't have, once, and I got pregnant with you. But I didn't have an abortion, like so many other girls my age, and I didn't give you up either. I kept you, and I loved every minute with you, don't get me wrong," Sasha said, suddenly apologetic, almost kissing her daughter now, still nervously straightening her disheveled blonde locks. "And I worked, first as a bagger girl at the grocery and then as a waitress. And I turned down guys just to be with you, to protect you and see that you were raised properly." "I was, mom," Cindy said, her eyes showing pity for her mother now, almost ready to spring forth with tears, feeling a little bad about pressing her mother to speak to her this way. And perhaps knowing and fearing what would come next: "Then why did I find you sucking the cock of that Thompson boy?" Sasha's mother suddenly shouted, cross and red-faced and angry. Cindy slunk down, escaping her mother's hand for a moment, but her mom quickly followed her down and clamped her fingers atop her daughter's head. "I couldn't help it. He made me!" Cindy gasped. Tears rolled down her cheeks, big ones, big like the Thompson's boy's cock. "No he didn't. I was watching you from my back window and I saw you pull down his zipper," Sasha said to her daughter. "Is that why we left Idaho?" Cindy said suddenly, becoming a little cross herself. "That's one of the reasons," Sasha answered. "Well you shouldn't have interfered in my life," Cindy said. "I had to. You were giving blow jobs!" Sasha said. "Just ONE blow job," Cindy corrected. "And what are you doing at school? At your new school?" Sasha asked. Her eyes accused, and Cindy's looked guilty. "Just two more blow jobs," Cindy said. "Only of the very cutest boys." Sasha glared at her daughter. She felt like hitting her, but her little ivory face was just too pretty. "I got a call from your principal today, while I was at work," Cindy's mom said. "At my new JOB, Cindy." The little girl, already blushing and crying, turned more red-faced and shed even bigger tears. "Cindy was caught in the boy's bathroom-- in the BOY'S bathroom, Cindy, sucking the penis of a boy while another one, with his cock out and wet with saliva, looked on. Did you do that?!" "Yes mom!" Cindy cried, and suddenly buried her face in her mother's prominent chest. It was a chest many men lusted for, both when Cindy's mother was at work and when she went to and from work, and of course at the party, where men and even women had sucked with delight upon the perfect young gourds, even decorating them with whipped cream to make their succulence all the more appealing. As Sasha watched her daughter she was well aware of how she had responded to such attention. In fact, of how she had invited it: prior to being put on a table and decorated with cream, she had been tasked with roaming under the table, on hands and knees, undoing the flies of the men and relieving the women of their undergarments. She had prepared the guests, tempted them with her mouth, sucked and licked them to a state of readiness for the festivities that were to ensue. Festivities which culminated with everyone `rewarding' her for her work with a whip on her bottom. "Tell me the truth," Sasha said, when her daughter had finally ceased crying. "Do you enjoy sucking cock?" Cindy looked up at her mom, her face tear-stained. She wanted to lie, but looking into her mother's face, which was red with anger and embarrassment and hidden knowledge, she suddenly found she couldn't. "Yes mom," Cindy confessed. "I like it. The boys are so eager, and then when I put my lips to them they get so awkward. Even the raddest boys are reduced to huffing and choking, like they're going to die. And then they're desperate to do something-- I'm not sure what it is. They're just absolutely desperate, like they have to pee or something, but they want me to keep my mouth to them while they do it!" Cindy gaped at her mother, her eyes wide with inexplicable innocence, yet questing for an answer, just like her mother had found she needed answers. "Yes," Cindy's mother said. She returned to stroking her daughter's hair. "They want to give you their seed." "Oh," Cindy said. She thought a moment, frowning a little. "But my eggs are in my tummy!" Cindy said. Sasha laughed then, and Cindy laughed too, until they were both red-faced with their mutual embarrassment and their thoughts of boys and men. "Yes, dear," Sasha finally said to Cindy, when she'd recovered herself and her daughter was able to listen again, no longer laughing. "It doesn't matter where your eggs are. Men want to cum, above all else, and seeing a pretty young thing like you, just as pretty as I was when I had you, and the same age too, they will spurt their seed most anyplace. In your mouth, in your pussy, or--" Cindy's mom paused. Her ass wasn't just hurting because a whip had found her behind. "Or?" Cindy asked, all 12-year-old curiosity. "Or your bottom," Cindy's mom said, and her eyes showed her guilt at having been taken by two men there, the previous night. "My bottom?!" Cindy cried. Her hand flew back to that part of herself which her mother had felt so pained to bend that morning. The girl felt her 12-year-old hiney and seemed mortified that the cocks she had learned to suck might long to penetrate her there. "Yes," Sasha said. "Even in your bottom. Men like it because it's even tighter than your pussy, and seen as someplace that's forbidden. That's how they are. They want to violate whatever is most forbidden to them. Dave himself remarked how pretty you looked. Do you remember that, last night? Even though he's dating me I'm sure he'd love nothing more than to get his cock into you. Into your mouth, and even into your little ass." Sasha said the last a bit vengefully, as if thinking, perhaps, that for all her questions her daughter deserved just such a fate. Suddenly she slapped Cindy's behind, for the girl was sitting now facing her mother, with her ass not bearing her full weight, instead sitting on her right thigh, curled up like a kitten beside her mother. "Ow!" Cindy cried, suddenly, and her hand, which had started to drift off her behind, suddenly flew to where her mother had hit her. "Why did you do that?" Cindy asked. "Because you deserve it, for asking so many questions," Sasha said. "Ask any more and I'm liable to take you to one of my parties." "CAN I?" Cindy asked. Her sudden interest, expressed with a kind of childish glee, surprised her mother. Sasha thought that, after hearing about whips and cocks going up hiney holes the girl would have no interest, at the tender age of 12, of being a part of such things. But far from finding her mother's tale fearful, the girl was still full of curiosity. "No of course you can't," Sasha said. "But I want to," Cindy begged. Sasha realized she had taken her daughter, unwittingly, from the frying pan to the fire. She had been trying to allay her daughter's questions with a truthful, of somewhat edited, explanation. Instead she had simply fanned the flames of her daughter's interest even further. "Cindy, the parties I go to are for ADULTS," Sasha said, stressing the word. "But you had me when you were 12," Cindy answered. "Yes but that was just a tryst with some boy and I--" Sasha looked at her daughter, at her lovely perfect pink lips, and knew where those lips, so full of curiosity, would be again, at school tomorrow. Back on the penis of some boy, a very cute and "rad" boy of course, but further embarrassing her mother with calls from the principal about her daughter exploring the forbidden territory of the boy's bathroom. She didn't want that. If the little minx was to be controlled, she would have to be tamed the only way her mother knew how: not by bans and restrictions, for what was a ban on watching the little mouse on T.V. in the morning compared to the lure of cute boys with their cocks hanging out, being made to cough and stutter? No, she would have to do just as Cindy was asking, despite screams from her conscience that she should not. She would take Cindy to a party, let her explore the temptations of the flesh, under her mother's watchful eye of course. She would let her bathe in eroticism and then she would be as Sasha herself had become, after having Cindy: mature, responsible, a bit older perhaps, but not a little slut sucking cock in the boy's restroom at school. "Alright," Sasha said, surprising her daughter with her sudden reversal. "You can come along to the next party Dave takes me to." "THANKS, mom!" Cindy cried. She leapt upward and threw her arms around her young mother's neck, kissed her hard on the cheek. With the same lips that had explored the boy's cocks in the restroom that day. Sasha hoped her daughter hadn't picked up any diseases. "I'll have to take you to the doctor's," Sasha said to her daughter, when the little girl had finished kissing her. "I'm sure they'll let you come to the party, but everyone who goes must first be inspected by a physician and get a clean bill of health. I'll have to start you on the pill, too, because even if I keep you out of harm's way at the party I can't count on you not getting into it with some of your radical boyfriends." "You can trust me, mom," Cindy said, eyes wide and beguilingly truthful. But Sasha knew better. She had said the same thing to her mom the night she'd given in while babysitting. "Of course I can trust you, dear, but I can't trust men. Or cute boys," Sasha said. She pushed her daughter's hair back, where it had fallen into her eyes. "Oh. Right," Cindy agreed. "So we'll start you on the pill and make sure you haven't picked anything up in the boy's room," Sasha said. "And promise me you won't get into anything I don't know about," Sasha said. "With the boys at your school, I mean. I can't take you to the party if you come down with something, period. Whether I want to or not. Understand?" Sasha asked her daughter. "Yes mom," Cindy answered. But from the look in her eyes Sasha was glad the next party with Dave was only a week away, for she could see that her daughter's little devil side, which was just beginning to show itself, was dying for more. 30 ---------------- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls! ----------------- -- More stories at: http://groups.google.com/ Search by typing: roller666@earthlink.net Click on "Power Search" Change "standard" archive to "complete" archive. -- Other providers: IFLC: http://assm.asstr-mirror.org and http://asstr-mirror.org Anya's Lil' Hideaway: http://www.insatiable.net/ Silver: http://www.mr-yellow.com/goodies The Backdrop Club: http://www.backdrop.com Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated -- Great art books by David Hamilton and Jock Sturges are at: http://www.amazon.com http://bn.com (photos of naked little girls) -- Naked little girls/politics: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com Man/boy love: http://www.nambla.de Politics: http://www.lp.org http://www.isil.org http://www.fear.org http://www.fija.org http://www.aclu.org -- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. All rights reserved. -- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html Or at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/www/index.html (It is case sensitive, i.e. type Roller, not roller). -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+