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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
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Chapter Nine
By morning Julie was healed enough to walk normally. The
pointillist method, as the count no doubt intended, proved gentler than
it looked. We raced each other downstairs in a clattering of our high
heels. Strangely, we'd found shoes and clothes that fit us exactly in
the armoire. (Though some clothes were intentionally a size too small,
particularly the panties.)
The count was awaiting us in the dining hall, dressed in a polo
shirt and shorts. There was a noticeable swell in the front of his
shorts. Impulsively I squeezed it as I passed him. "I'm glad to see
that," I said, turning my head back as I walked over to my place at
table.
"I'm not," he shuddered.
"Sleep well?" I asked impishly, seating myself.
"Oh!" Julie announced, and found that sitting down, at least, was
still an uncomfortable experience.
"You know, I'm not hungry this morning," the count said, coming
over to us. "Why don't we just skip breakfast."
"Sit down, young man," I commanded. Ruefully he wandered back
over to his chair, sat down, and called for Burton.
Julie and I wore tight little cotton white T-shirts. I glanced at
her and we grasped them in front and pulled them off, holding them just
right so they passed tightly over our nipples and set them to wiggling.
I shook my hair out after I'd taken off my tee. I looked at the count.
"Here, catch," I said, and we both tossed our T-shirts to him. He
caught mine.
We sat happily before him, bare-breasted. I looked down at my
freed breasts and shook them. "Did your nipples wiggle more when you
took off your T-shirt or did mine?" I asked Julie.
"Yours did," she replied politely.
"No, yours did," I insisted. I looked at the count. He seemed about
to pass out. "Give us back our shirts," I said. "We'll try again, and this
time you must be the judge."
"Huh?" he asked, as if in a daze.
"We're going to test the wiggling capacity of our nipples. Give us
our shirts." Dazedly he passed them across to me. I handed Julie hers.
We put the little shirts back on. They had armholes for sleeves,
holes which we'd made extra big so they showed off lots of tit. Stiffly
my nipples showed through the thin fabric of the shirt. We'd cut off the
shirts at the midriffs so our belly buttons could be seen. Earlier I'd
told Burton to put two cushions on each of our chairs, not saying why.
Now, perched in my chair, my feet not touching the floor, I prepared to
flaunt my boobies again at the count.
"Ready?" I asked Julie.
"Ready."
"One, two, three, pull!" We popped the shirts off again, lustily. I
cheated by wiggling from side-to-side, setting my nipples off into
extra jiggles.
"Who won?" I asked brightly.
"God knows," the count replied. "I want to find out who has the
tightest cunt."
"All in good time, sir. All in good time."
Burton approached me warily. "Miss, I mean madam."
"Miss will do, I'm only 15," I said impishly.
"Would you like to order now?"
"Yes, please. But let Julie go first. She has a very sore bottom
and probably cannot sit for long."
"Yes, uh," Burton backed away, stumbled. "Ah, yes miss, right so."
I didn't know how I was going to handle the count after breakfast
but I'd found I loved teasing him. I was turning into a little dominatrix
right before his eyes, before my eyes as well. From the looks of him I
was the most difficult domme he'd ever had, in my own unique little
way. Julie and I passed the breakfast merrily, chowing down our food.
The count just poked at his plate, and occasionally shifted
uncomfortably in his chair.
"They do make underpants too tight these days, don't they?" I
remarked mischievously.
"Yes," he replied, eyeing me. "Way too tight. And the shorts too."
***
The minute breakfast ended the count rose from the table. "Now I
take command," he announced abruptly.
"Oh, sir, what would you have us do?" I asked coquettishly.
"Struggle, preferably," he said. "Accompany me to the parlor. I
have some guests waiting there." This shocked me. He'd regained the
upper hand. What could I do?
Meekly Julie and I got up from our places. Sexily we'd chosen
stone ground denim hot pants for our hips, and we'd abbreviated these
with scissors to within an inch of their life. Below these were only
our trusty (albeit new) heels, which elevated our bottoms and made
them more showy than they already were.
"To the parlor, girls," the count reminded us. We shuffled out of
the room, down the hall. "Pick it up," he commanded us. "You're not
going to a funeral!"
"I am for my bottom," I replied.
We reached the parlor and he let us inside. A hush fell over the
crowd. They were dressed casually, but expensively. Ladies put hands
over their cheeks, surprised but delighted, as they caught sight of our
naked boobies, so well-formed and firm. The party would be starting
early, with exceptional guests of honor.
The count always has known how to choose them, hasn't he?" one
lady whispered to another.
"Now, now," the other whispered back. "You're not bad yourself."
"Ladies and gentlemen," the count announced, rising up on a little
platform formed by the wet bar. He looked at me. "And, uh, girls..." He
gestured politely. "I would like to introduce my new companions,
Kimmy, the younger one, and Julie, a fine young wife on tour here in
France."
I noticed he didn't say "vacation."
"Uh, will they be entertaining us?" a woman asked in French.
"Yes, they are going to take off their pants and mud-wrestle for
us," the count said. Julie and I looked at each other in shock.
A side door opened and we found ourselves hustled out directly
into the front yard. There were only trees and hills in the distance,
plus the road that ran by his lawn. I knew an occasional car did come
along it. Then my eyes spotted the arena where Julie and I were
expected to do our "entertaining." A large pool of mud, dug out
overnight, awaited us.
"Look!" I pointed, nudging Julie. "That's what those sounds must
have been that we heard last night!" In the middle of the night we'd
thought we'd heard someone digging a grave. But the sound seemed far
off, intermittant, and we'd drifted into sleep once more.
"Normally we would have this event in the back yard," the count
said. "But these young ladies have proven themselves such bold little
lasses that I decided to hold it out front this year!" A cheer went up
from the crowd.
"Strip, girls," the count commanded us. "Right down to your
panties." I looked at Julie. She at me. Hesitantly we fingered the
snaps on the front of our jeans. I caught Burton's eye. He was standing,
crisp as ever in his tuxedo, watering the pit of mud with a hose.
I decided to be as graceful as possible. I unbuttoned the front of
my shorts and pulled down the zipper. I slid them over my smooth
thighs as a gasp went up from the crowd. I wore red, semi-sheer
chiffon panties, so small they allowed a few wisps of my pubic hair to
curl out from under the waistband in front. Julie proved similarly
attired. We'd chosen side-tie panties, with little silk bows tenuously
holding together the chiffon halves in front and back. My panties had
wedged themselves into my butt-crack in back and now I reached behind
me to pull out the fabric.
"They're fine as they are, Kimmy," the count admonished me.
I gulped. I made to take off my heels.
"No, no, right into the pit with you," he said. "You too, Julie." I
advanced to the pit. I looked down.
"It's not deep," the count assured me. I stepped down very
daintily, and sunk into the mud up to my ankles. It oozed between my
toes. Julie stepped in on the opposite side. I looked at her, she at me.
My long, golden hair shimmered in elegant curls in the morning sun.
Spun gold; so delicate, exquisite. Julie had spent an hour doing it up for
me this morning. Her hair was stunning also. Glittering earrings, too
formal for girls in tees and hot pants, dangled down on either side of
our faces.
The count cleared his throat. We looked up at him, pleadingly,
wearing only our undies, our hair and makeup perfect. How could he do
this to us?
"Are you ready girls?" the count asked.
"May we at least take our heels off?" I begged. "We might fall
down." The count looked away at the distant hills upon hearing my
ridiculous question. I noticed then that the floor of the pit was not dirt
but a special puncture-proof rubber mat, easy to fall on and easy to
walk on with heels. Once again the count had proved willing to go to
extraordinary lengths to accommodate us, however perversely.
"Ready girls?" he asked again.
"Okay sir," I said, reluctantly but firmly. Already I was sizing
Julie up. She was bigger than me, and heavier. How was I going to
avoid losing to her?
"Upon my whistle, then," Burton announced, and gave a lusty blow
on the count of three. A cheer went up from the crowd.
Julie and I approached each other hesitantly.
"Girls, there's a sound spanking for the loser," the count called
out. "I wouldn't want to lose if I were you, Julie. Kimmy, you know why
a girl is spanked, don't you? To prepare her for a little impalement,
hmmm?"
"Such encouragement!" a woman whispered.
"I've a mind to get in there myself!" another remarked, casting an
admiring glance at the count.
Well, I wasn't about to get fucked up the ass by the biggest cock
in France. I'd just have to knock Julie down right away and get this
silly business over with. Perhaps I could even save my hair. Fair's fair
in love and mud-pit wrestling.
I lunged suddenly at Julie and toppled her.
"Hey!" she cried, surprised, her eyes wide. She caught herself as
she fell, sullying only one half of her panties and one of her legs up to
the waist.
"I'm sorry," I said, still holding my hands out from pushing her.
"Just lie down and let's quit."
"You know my bottom can't take anymore!" she glared up at me.
Like a lioness she leapt up and attacked me.
"Julieee!" I cried, desperately trying to keep my balance. "Don't-"
I fell backward, splashed right onto my bottom in the mud. Somehow
the front triangle of my panties escaped getting dirty. But my bared
bottom and the backs of my thighs got coated with ugly, oozing chunks
of mud. Julie couldn't help laughing at me, and pointing. Instead of
going for the final kill, she just stood there, enjoying her seeming
victory. Without getting up I lunged out at her suddenly, caught hold of
her ankle.
"Yipes!" she cried, and her full, womanly body splashed down right
next to me, splattering us both.
"Now look what you've done!" I cried out. Splotches of mud
speckled my front, my face.
"Me?!" she retorted. We both lunged at each other then. Our hands
gripped each other by the upper arms and we grappled with one another.
I couldn't help noticing her (mostly) white boobies jiggling shamelessly
before me. Mine put on an equally heedless display.
We splashed down into the mud. Julie grabbed my head and dunked
me, getting as much of my hair as possible into the icky stuff. But I
rose, grabbed at the front of her panties, and pulled them open and
began bailing handfuls of mud into them. She grabbed me by the
breasts, whirled me about, and yanked down the back of my panties,
leaving them clutching at the underswell of my heinie. She squished
mud into my butt crack, even mushing it down with her fingertips to
force more in.
"Aack!" I cried, leaping up. Mud clung to me everywhere. Still
some skin showed through, though, I noted gratefully. Julie would
certainly pay for this.
"Using underhanded tactics, eh?" I asked her as she knelt before
me, still clutching handfuls of mud. She raised her fists and threw mud
at me. Some hit me squarely in the face, bringing howls of laughter
from the crowd.
I jumped down on top of Julie. With strength I didn't even know I
had I pushed her face down, pressing her nose into the mud. She pulled
up just in time, reached up, smeared mud all over my face. I gazed
wildly about for Burton and his hose without seeing him. I wiped one of
my hands off on my still-white upper breast and then cleaned my face
with it as best I could. Julie took advantage of the lull to reach up
from where she knelt and yank down my panties.
I gasped. The crowd gasped. My blonde muff shown amidst what was
practically the last patch of white space on my skin. Julie reached up
to smear mud all over my lovely blonde bush but I caught her wrist and
twisted it behind her.
"Owwch!" Julie whined as, stumbling, my panties round my knees,
I completed the maneuver. I forced Julie face first right into the mud.
I smeared the back of her head with my free hand, getting it all over
her hair. She bucked wildly with her legs. I was wary of the heels.
Suddenly in her thrashing I lost my balance. I teetered for a moment on
my stiletto pumps, then went crashing down. Mud flew everywhere.
Glistening with mud I rose up, like some Swamp Thing, and we
engaged each other anew. We writhed across the pool, rolling now,
blatantly displaying our most intimate parts, which were soon fully
bronzed with the gook. My hips fell between Julie's open legs and I
began humping her. Maybe, I reasoned, I could distract her through her
pussy. I absolutely must not lose!
Unfortunately, it was she who had been thoroughly fucked last
night, and I began quickly to come on to orgasm. Suddenly I wanted her,
needed her, woman or no.
Julie, the more gentle of us, saw this as a way to negate the
conflict. There would be no winner, no loser. The count would be
defeated by the wilyness of the female spirit. The ladies spotted this
right away and quietly applauded us. The men, looking on in
wonderment, applauded also, but for an entirely different reason. The
count remained in the dark, not divining yet our true purpose. Nor did
Burton.
Softly Julie licked the mud from my lips. We kissed. She briefly
let go of me in our amorous embrace and pulled her panties down to her
knees, as far as she could reach. This closed her legs together beneath
me so I reached down and helped her, finally managing to loose one of
the mud-clogged drawstrings. I helped her out of her undies
completely, yanking at them till we got them off, still however lying
atop her all the while. She let her legs fall open, wide, as if to give
birth. For the moment, my panties did not matter, and they clung
precariously to my knees as I ground my pussy upon hers.
Julie sighed and reached down with both hands and grasped the
swell of my bottom. She urged me to buckle my back inward, press my
pussy harder to hers. She reached down over my bottom and began
fingering my anus. I flinched, gasped, did not want her there! Then she
slipped a hand around to my front and got right at my clitoris. I
moaned, responded by finding her own spot with my hand and rubbed her
tiny bulb. Like a dove she cooed, sighed.
"So lovely," a woman remarked.
"Marvelously spontaneous," another said admiringly.
"Damn best show of tits and clits I've ever seen, eh Pierre?" a
man asked.
We groped in the mud, alternately stimulating each other's
nipples, each other's clits. Julie kissed my budded nipples. I gorged
upon hers. "Give me milk to wash the mud off," I pleaded of her bosoms.
Julie laughed, caressed me. "I will always be your first baby," I told
her.
"I know, I know," she replied tenderly. Half the men were by now
rubbing themselves in concert with us. The count caught onto our plot
then.
"Now ladies, ladies, we must have a winner here!" Burton said,
advancing to the edge of the pool. "Ladies, continue fighting please,"
Burton pleaded. We looked up at him. The crowd murmured. Suddenly
we leapt to our knees and grabbed him by his fine new tuxedo. Our twin
mud-covered bottoms gleamed brightly as we knelt, bathed in the
morning sun.
"C'mon in, Burton, the mud's just fine!" we cried gaily. He
tottered forward, resisted, then lost his balance.
SPLOOSH! Burton fell in amongst us. There was such a splash
that mud spattered the crowd.
We laughingly attacked poor Burton like a pair of bacchanals.
Twin tigresses, we showed no mercy. We ripped open his tux and
yanked down his trousers. I got my hands on his dick and to his utter
amazement he found himself hard, absolutely hard, within seconds.
"Fuck me Burton, fuck me if you dare," I called, and rubbed his
hapless dick. He shuddered. A moment later he spurted a creamy
fountain up between my grasping hands. The crowd whooped and
applauded.
"I say, I say!" Burton cried, not knowing whether to be happy or
humiliated.
"Thatta boy Burton," Julie cried in a rare show of crudity. I wiped
him clean with mud, bronzing his cock just as he had caused us to be
bronzed.
"Don't stick mud in the tip!" Burton yelped. I apologized and
sucked his cockhead for him, then re-dunked it in the mud and let it go.
Burton struggled up out of the pool and Julie and I scrambled out
behind him. "Fetch us the hose, Burton!" we called merrily. Stumbling,
he brought it to us and began boldly spraying us. Dancing, stretching
our arms to the sky, we displayed ourselves to the spritzing water. I
stepped out of my ruined panties. An orgasm still broiled within me.
Julie felt lusty also. We romped on the grass, pushing each other down,
kissing, getting up again. The crowd stood amazed.
Finally I fetched the hose from Burton and began chasing Julie
around the yard with it. She ran, bottom waggling, her big boobs
flapping. I closed in and aimed the spray right up her ass. Julie
screamed as I gave her an instant enema, careful not to overdo it. Shit
flooded out her bottomhole and coated the backs of her thighs. I
decided to clean myself with the hose then, leaving her a mess.
Julie spun about and ran after me faster than I'd ever seen her
before. Finally she caught hold of the hose and began reeling me in. I
sprayed her in the face but it was no use. She was winning this new
tug-of-war, being the stronger between us. I stumbled into her and she
pressed the hose right against my clit. I gasped, I reeled under the
stimulation of the spray. I clasped my thighs with my hands and felt
myself teeter on the brink of orgasm.
"Silly girl," Julie said, and pulled away the hose. Desperately I
fell face first onto the lawn and began squirming about like some
octopus. My hands shot to my pussy and I began rubbing it furiously, a
woman gone mad. Laughingly Julie sprayed my backside. I rolled over,
thrust my hips up at her. She sprayed me generally and then
concentrated on my twat. Alternately I let in the water and then set
about masturbating myself again with my hands. The crowd drew
around us. They began undressing. I heaved with my first orgasm,
bucking my hips up. I strained my pussy into the air, putting all my
weight on my shoulders and heels. An arc of lovely wanton female
flesh upon the grass.
A man knocked Julie to her knees and brusquely prised apart her
bottom cheeks. His pants were already down, coiled with his
underpants about his thick calves. "Kimmee, help me!" Julie cried, like
some distant voice beyond my orgasm. Quickly the man entered her.
Julie's marital training paid off then, as did my enema. The man thrust
quickly but she was able to open herself, just in time. He began rodding
her, but now it was her turn to go on the attack. Using the control she'd
learned from Dan, she clenched down fiercely, harder than even she
thought possible. The man yelped. His cock was suddenly within a
living vise. It felt like it would literally have the life squeezed right
out of it. He knew then his breach of manners. He apologized for taking
Julie so quickly, begged her for mercy. Julie looked back at him, saw he
was just an eager (if large) boy, no older than herself. She smiled, let
her bottom ease. He gasped, relieved, still in awe at the tightness that
remained. He went more slowly then, and Julie slipped over into bliss.
My pussy arcing in the air was hardly a treat any man could miss.
At first they were afraid to touch me. Afraid of their wives, afraid of
the count. But a juicy twat so fully (if innocently) offered is not long
resisted by any man, or even quite a few women. Before I knew it my
orgasming pussy was set upon by a threesome of men. They spread my
legs wide, almost to the breaking point. A woman and a man set upon
my tits. The woman lay on the grass and thrust a hand down her own
panties. A cock offered itself to my mouth and, wedging my teeth
apart, made its entry. Gagging, I finally sought to take it, if only in
order to better regulate its conduct so I could still breathe.
A rapturous series of orgasms coursed through me. All around
soft sighs and desperate grunts filled the air. I saw Julie on her knees,
through an orgasmic haze, rocking back and forth on the stiff rod of her
paramour, who turned out to be a virgin. He came powerfully once in
her, and was instantly ready again. Julie collapsed to her face for the
second round, cooing, keeping her bottom high. He thrust up her again
as vigorously as he had at first, but she was fully open to him now, and
once lodged inside she complimented his thrusts with squeezings of her
trained rectum.
A farmer's haywagon trundled past on the road below, the clip-
clop of the horses' hooves heard intermittently amidst the louder
sounds of copulation. I wondered idly what he thought of the spectacle
of our bacchanal. In any event he did not stop or interfere. The
lowing of cattle drifted across from the distant fields. Did shepherd
boys pause in their chores to masturbate over what they saw? There
were too many hands groping at me, demanding a turn, for me to look up
and survey the scene in more than brief glimpses. The smells of male
and female fertility, randily released, wafted over me with each gentle
breeze, mingling with my own contributions and those of my suitors.
The morning sun illuminated all, hid nothing. Every crevice, portal,
orifice, brightly lit. Last I remember a man was pressing the slit on
his stiff cockhead against my upstanding nipple, fucking his own penis
with my teat. This out of desperation, for my cunt and ass and mouth
were already jammed full of cock. "No Vacancy" here. I passed out
from pleasure then. Later I was carried, oozing and dripping, into the
house, by men known only to me by their genitals. Thoughtfully some
women bathed me, put me to bed. The same was done for Julie. We'd
proven to be exemplary guests of honor, they whispered. Julie and I fell
into a sound sleep, full of cum, our wombs impregnated with their
husbands' seed.
30
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