Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 109 alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Two
by Andrew Roller
Chapter One
Sitting across from each other we ate the pies, and I knew there
were men in this world who would have delighted in watching us. I
rimmed my upper lip with my tongue, trying to clear it of whipped
cream, succeeded only in smearing it. Kimber looked up and I saw she
had a cream mustache too.
"So what do you want to do today?" Kimber asked, plucking a fat
strawberry from atop her pie and popping it in her mouth. I watched,
copied her. I copied Kimber in lots of things, I knew. Deep down I
envied her, the bold, casual air she had about sex, the way she could
twist men around her little finger. They did not scare her. More likely,
she scared them.
"There's a park that just opened. I hear they have some cool
rides," I said.
"Okay."
"Can I wear something of yours? I don't want to go in my
schoolgirl clothes."
"It won't matter if you're just going to ride the merry-go-round."
"Bitch," I said. Kimber laughed, tossing back her head, deliciously
carefree. "You know I'm not going just to ride the merry-go-round," I
scowled.
Kimber said no more. She'd shot me with her bow...again.
***
Dressed in a midriff and jeans I strolled through the park with
Kimberly. I was wearing jeans of hers that had fit her several years
ago, the pants fitting snugly against my immature hips. My tanned
tummy, smooth and bare, caught men's eyes as we passed, my belly
button winking surreptitiously at them. A girl's body sometimes sends
signals she herself would never approve of, but cannot help. My boobies
jiggled within the confines of my half-tee. It was tied off just below
them in a cute bow of white fabric. The shirt was sleeveless. At
Kimber's insistence I wore no bra. I prayed to God I didn't spill
anything on my shirt. Carefully I sipped on a coke.
"Mmm!" Kimber said, pointing, her mouth full of ice cream.
"Not the log ride," I said. Those things always ended in a big
splash. She took my hand anyway, tugged me forward.
"Be bold," she said, winking. And indeed she herself was, with her
see-through bra peeking out between the partly unzipped halves of her
jacket.
We entered the ride and sat down. A big log enclosed us, four
abreast. I sat beside a man who was not unconscious of the dare I was
about to make with the water. He, and his wife beside him, smiled at
me.
"To be young and free," I heard his wife say in Spanish. I was
pretty good in Spanish, even though I went to an American school. Some
of the other kids snubbed Spanish. They were military brats, or the
children of American executives, hating Buenos Aires because it wasnÕt
Phoenix, then going back to America two years later and hating Phoenix
because it wasnÕt Buenos Aires. I didnÕt mind fitting into the local
culture, learning the language. I seemed brighter than the other kids at
school, and my beauty, which some called extraordinary, seemed to
distance me from the other girls. The boys, I knew, only had one thing
on their minds when they sidled up to me. So I mostly ignored them.
What fun is the chase when youÕre hounded on all sides, but every dog is
a Beavis or Butthead? Maybe that's why I got on so well with Kimber.
Even here, in Argentina, I had only a desultory relationship with my
schoolmates. Helga and I had lived here for awhile, then in America,
then in Europe, then back here again. This time I'd started school here
at mid-year, when the other kids had already formed into groups and
cliques. So I was alone, mostly, though now I had HelgaÕs friend
Kimberly to keep me company. And, once, IÕd met another friend of
HelgaÕs, named Julie. They seemed to have shared an adventure
together once, when Kimber and Julie were still teens. Now they led
separate lives, mostly. They all had come into money, claimed it was
from modeling, but had no photo albums or scrapbooks they could show
me.
I turned around, gazed behind me. Were any of my schoolmates
back there? Nope. Not even any members of my Beavis and Butthead
fan club, with their ever-present hopeful glances. They were probably
at home, surfing the web, while I prepared to surf my way into a splash
at the bottom of the log ride. Too bad. They would miss out on a treat,
if I lost my bet with the water. Secretly I wished some of my female
rivals were here, seeing me with my ultra-cool female friend Kimberly.
They would be extra jealous if they saw me with her. We were a
knockout together, no questions asked. I liked how men thought I was
somehow older when they saw me with her. It was as if her presence
gave them permission to talk to me. I liked that. Only thing was, what
would I do, if they wanted to do more than talk? I didnÕt know.
Kimberly would sometimes go out with one of them, someone weÕd met
that day, at the mall or someplace, and IÕd lie awake that night, at
home, jealous, wondering what it would have been like if IÕd been her,
and she me. ThatÕs why sheÕd been inviting me to her parties, lately, I
knew. To resolve my doubts. To answer my curiosity. But, God! It was
like, Òif you come, you must participate.Ó I couldnÕt just...come. Or,
rather, I couldnÕt just Òattend.Ó I couldnÕt just be a little girl, a little
squirrel, seeing others do things and then refusing to partake myself.
If I wanted that sort of party, I could stick to church socials and the
lame Beavis meets Airhead high school parties, Kimberly said. No, if I
went to one of KimberlyÕs parties, I would have to be part of the group.
I couldnÕt just watch, I couldnÕt exclude myself, I couldnÕt be half-in
and half-out like I was at school. I had to be one of THEM. In this case,
one of the adults. Or, rather, one of the girls Òcoming outÓ into the
social world of adults. I glanced at Kimberly. Damn you! So smooth, so
light-hearted, and so self-assured. Were you ever 15, Kimberly? Were
you ever like me, caught between the somnolence of childhood and the
confidence of adulthood?
The log slid up a long, seemingly precarious ramp, giving us a
view of the entire park. Happily Kimber pointed out to me where we'd
bought our Cokes. The fat boy was still there, serving customers,
begging with his eyes for sex as he filled girlsÕ requests for drinks and
hotdogs. We'd had quite a laugh between ourselves after leaving his
stand. "Minus Ten," we nicknamed him. Poor soul. I doubted he'd ever
get invited to a Pussy Party.
I gazed at the other rides, wondering which one I'd like to go on
next. Kimber seemed to be doing the same. Then I remembered my
blouse. We were almost at the top of the ramp now, and there was a lot
of water down below.
The grinding of the ride's wheels ceased. The wind whipped my
long hair. We were poised atop a great hill made out of steel tracks. I
could see the curlicues of track below, each a thrill of its own, each
with its own special quality. Suddenly in my mind each was a different
party, with its own special perversions, its own unique sexual
satisfactions. My breath caught in my throat. I held it in. My breasts
seemed to bulge within my shirt. The log teetered atop the hill. A ride
of terror and pleasure awaited us. I felt myself on the precipice,
suddenly, between childhood and adulthood. Kimber took my hand,
squeezed it reassuringly. The log lurched forward and we began our
descent.
****
"She was lucky she had long hair," I heard Kimberly laughing. She
was retelling the story of my adventure upon the log ride. Of course, I'd
lost the bet with the water. My blouse had been soaked. I'd had to
spend the next fifteen minutes walking around the park with my hair
carefully placed over my breasts, worrying at every gust of wind. A
few times the wind had won and my pink nipples had been revealed to
passersby, beneath my wet tee. When we went to buy more Cokes, the
wind had bared me right in front of the fat boy. I think he closed his
stand and spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom.
The couple before us laughed gaily. I had finally said "yes." It
was two weeks later, and now I was here, at one of Kimber's parties. A
Pussy Party, no less. At least it wasnÕt a ÒBottom Party.Ó IÕd heard
men had a predilection for removing their belts at those, and not for
the purpose of dropping their pants.
Uncomfortably I was aware of my nakedness beneath my skirt. It
was short, a mini. Fortunately I didnÕt have a hanky that I might drop. I
prayed no one would ask me to bend over. It had been bad enough, at the
door, slipping out of my undies, with everyone watching, coyly. Then IÕd
watched other girls come in behind me, women mostly. TheyÕd slipped
out of their panties so demurely, as if at FrederickÕs, finding what
theyÕd tried on had been a little too tight, perhaps. A little too small
even for their tastes. Except this wasnÕt a private dressing room
inside FrederickÕs. This was a full-fledged party, a social affair, with
men in three-piece suits looking fine and handsome. What would my
mother say if she knew? Helga, my second mother. Fortunately she
was out of town for the weekend. I had no father to look after me. I
gazed at the man standing before me. He would be about my father's
age, I thought, if my dad were still alive. Gently he appraised me with
his eyes. He wanted me in a way my father never had.
"Surely everyone is here by now?" I heard him ask Kimberly.
"Yes, I'm quite certain they are," she replied. She clapped her
hands for everyone's attention. "Let's go into the study," she said. She
led the way then, taking me firmly by the hand. My skirt flipped up as I
walked, hips rolling, flashing the tops of my creamy thighs at the
guests who followed us. I was the prize of the evening, and I would be
first.
I would never have agreed to come to one of Kimber's parties, I
don't think, except that she'd caught me smoking pot three days ago. I'd
only taken it up recently at school, to try to get along better with the
other girls, who'd enticed me into it in the bathroom. Kimber had
gotten quite angry with me when she'd found me smoking it, behind
some bushes by her pool. She'd said that sex was healthy and drugs
were not. If I wanted to grow up I should go to her parties, she said,
not turn into a pothead. She'd said that my body was changing and it
was indeed time for me to grow up, but not into drugs. She'd threatened
to tell my mother unless I decided to take my place in the adult world
as I should, as a young, fertile female.
So now, a roomful of eyes on my barely covered bottom, I stood
hand in hand with Kimberly contemplating the centerpiece of the party.
It was an innocuous wooden stool, placed before a ladder that served to
give access to a wall full of books. But I would not be standing on the
stool, or climbing the ladder to fetch a book. Nor would any of the
other females tonight. Those of us chosen for the task were to each sit
on the stool, in turn, to be eaten.
Kimber placed a soft satin cushion on the stool. A maid, clad only
in an apron that stretched from her neck to her thighs, tied the cushion
to the stool with a length of soft rope. Kimber lifted a pillow from the
floor and set it against the ladder, to protect my back. The maid tied
this off also.
"Undress and sit down, Barbi," Kimber invited. Self-consciously I
wriggled out of my black lycra top, sending my boobies flying as I
pulled it up over my head. The guests gasped appreciatively at the
beauty of my mammaries. I shimmied my skirt down, letting it pool at
my ankles. Then I stepped out of it, wearing only pumps. I tossed my
hair back, attempting an air of casualness. Yet everyone knew I was a
virgin.
"You have a very cute bottom," I heard a girl say behind me. Her
name was Debbi. She was a little older than me and I'd just been
introduced to her a few minutes earlier. We'd seemed fast friends from
the moment our eyes met. She followed me over to the stool and when I
turned to sit down I saw that she'd peeled off her own top. Silently I
thanked her for joining me in at least a partial display of her own
nudity. Her sumptuous breasts bobbed enticingly as she helped me sit
down on the stool. When I was seated I was to stretch my legs out
before me, and put my feet into stirrups mounted on the floor. They
were widely spaced and could be cranked upward, I was told, to loft my
feet as high into the air as anyone might wish. Right now they stood
about a foot off the floor, on slim metal posts.
When my bottom was comfortably poised on the cushion, Debbi
knelt and buckled each of my feet into the stirrups. Kimber, meantime,
surprised me by shedding her party dress. Underneath she wore only a
garter belt and stockings. At her urging I lifted my arms above my
head. She pinned my wrists to a rung of the ladder and the maid tied
them off with a rope.
I wondered idly what a bottle of honey was doing in the library.
Shaped like a teddy bear, it grinned down at me from a shelf above.
Perhaps someone was going to have a crumpet. Kimber picked it up. My
breath caught in my throat. She lowered the squeeze bottle to my open
mouth and lightly squirted. A stream of honey hit my tongue, lolling
unselfconsciously on my lower lip. My mouth opened wider, surprised.
She squirted more vigorously. Someone giggled. Was it me? More
laughter, Kimber laughing now. She made to coat my lips with honey.
Some missed, going too high up, giving me a cleft palate of honey, then
too low, dimpling my chin. Debbi shrugged off her skirt. Silk panties,
too small, traversed her waist, barely covering her pubis. She slaked
her ardent hands on her thighs, seeming to want to thrust them
between, rub herself. Her eyes gleamed at me. She laughed, intensely,
like a child barely able to contain herself with the apprehension of
what must surely happen next.
Giggling, hands tied above me, I tried to clean my mouth with my
tongue. Kimber lowered the squirt bottle to my laughter-shaking boobs.
I watched wide eyed as she deposited a dollop of honey on each nipple.
The clear, sticky amber fluid slowly engulfed each stiff teat and then
dripped a drop onto my thighs. The bottle trailed down my smooth
tummy, anointed my navel, then moved lower to poise itself at my
pussy.
Kimber eyed me, smiled, returned her gaze to my twat. Someone
was going to have a muffin, all right. Mine. With a fresh squeeze she
fired at my clit. I flinched as the stream struck home. I oozed there,
honeyed in more ways than one, suddenly very aroused. Debbi bent low,
clasped her hands about my waist, palmed my bottom firmly. She
scooted my bottom forward on the satin cushion. Then she eased my
knees farther apart. Kimber bent low and really let me have it this
time. She coated my cunt lips all over with the honey. Then she
introduced the tip into my virgin twat. I shuddered. My chastity was
slipping away. A fusillade of honey spurted up me where nothing ever
had before. A tremble passed over Kimber and she seemed to want to
fuck me with the honey bottle's little tip. But the poor bear was just
too small, even for my tight little cunt. She filled me as best she could
and then withdrew. She lifted a hand and brushed back her mane of
golden hair, a picture of pure, decadent sophistication.
"Who will be first?" she asked, turning to the guests. Her shapely
bottom bulged nakedly at me. Naughtily I wondered what it would be
like to shoot honey up her ass.
A young man strode forward, long hair, a modern Jim Morrison in a
tuxedo. My spine tingled as I saw he had a day's growth of beard on his
chin. He would be...bristly. With an eagerness he tried to mask behind
an air of casual disdain he got down between my legs.
Kneeling, I thought. You're kneeling before me, aren't you, big boy.
Roughly he pushed my thighs farther apart. My ankles strained in their
stirrups, held fast. Worshipfully he bent forward, extended his tongue.
I broke into an uncontrollable shudder as he pushed his stubbly face
right between the innermost portions of my thighs. My eyes closed. I
grimaced as I felt a lick. Right where it counted. Right on my clit.
He was slurping soon, sucking all the honey from my twat with
exemplary vigor. Some little part of me was still sane, could remark
upon this, but most of me had spun suddenly into a whirl of pleasure. I
humped him, moaned, cried louder. Never before had I been eaten! I was
the outcast, the beautiful loner, the girl boys never dared ask out,
though they spurted joyfully at my passing, peering at me from
restroom windows. I saw them again in my mind, a pair of eyes, maybe
two pair, leering at me from some high half-opened window, intended
to provide ventilation to boys pooping in the john. And then,
sometimes, a crash! The bent-over boy, the one providing a platform
for his buddies with his back, got a little too excited at their
breathless descriptions of me.
I'd always been excited by their watching, though I didn't let on.
Now I had a whole roomful of eyes staring at me! And this time no
flights of fancy were required to imagine me without my clothes. I had
none! The very thought sent me shivering over the brink.
Next I knew Kimber was patting, stroking my head. I was gasping.
The man was gone, but another approached. "Please," I mouthed,
meaning to say "Please, no more," but the rest didn't come out.
"Yes dear, here's another one," Kimber said consolingly. An older
man approached. He got right down on his knees and thrust his face into
my beaver. The dam of my hymen strained as he sucked at me like a
vacuum. Was he trying to deflower me with his breath? He was doing a
good job of it. His mouth went to work then, munching merrily at my
virgin cuntlips. He urged more of my natural honey from me.
Kimber bent forward and engaged my open, swooning mouth.
Absently I let her kiss me, French kiss me, licking away all the honey
with long, lingering strokes of her tongue. Then she and Debbi each
captured one of my wobbling breasts and set about cleaning my honeyed
nipples. I shrieked as the mouths plundered my most intimate regions.
Gulping in air I screamed as only a virgin can, tasting the fruits of
adulthood for the very first time. At last, trembling, the girls and the
man left me.
I must have looked a wreck, makeup smeared, long hair tousled,
my breasts and snatch gleaming wet. The partiers seemed not to mind.
They gazed at me approvingly. I was still virgin, still tied, able only to
move my hips, my head, my bosoms. Another came forward, this one a
woman. She was elegant, wearing a long, flowing sequined party gown.
She eased the garment's spaghetti straps off her shoulders. It
shimmied down as she knelt, bringing forth to my gaze a sumptuous
bust. She must have been close to 30, yet her tits stuck out as proudly
as any high school girl's. Nakedly they shook their fulness at me. She
took up position between my thighs. Her dress bunched at her waist,
leaving her own pussy covered.
"No!" I said. I cast my eyes wildly at Kimber. To be eaten by men
was one thing, bad enough, but a woman?!
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
ÒThe liberal baby boomers, who thought drive-by sex and drugs
were fine for them, want limits for their offspring.Ó - Time, September
11, 1995, pg. 64
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