Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
Issue No. 116    alt.sex.stories  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Nine
by Andrew Roller

Chapter Two

         The flakes came down heavier, faster.  They powdered my breasts.  
They sprinkled themselves nicely across the curved upper portions of 
my victimsÕ fannies.  All four were moaning now, the men on the brink 
of orgasm and the women wishing they could be.  The senator told the 
men that they could caress the women's breasts.  They responded 
eagerly.  ÒMomma!Ó one man breathed, though his hands actually found 
little MandyÕs breasts.  Perhaps he lusted for the Virgin Mary.  Mandy 
and mistress cried out at the new attention, grateful for it.  I watched, 
amazed, stunned that the men could hold themselves in for this long.  
They were quite a pair of troopers.  I longed to give them relief.
         "Ah, to suffer so gloriously, so valiantly," the senator said.  "I am 
indeed impressed."  We all looked at him hopefully, the men tearing 
their mouths from the women, looking like beggars starving before a 
feast.  "Yes, you have all earned your keep this evening, including you, 
dear Barbi."  He had me take off their blindfolds.  They stood like sheep, 
the girls holding the men by their cocks, the men grasping Mandy and 
mistressesÕ breasts.  Senator Exon led us inside then, each of the 
females leading her man by his prick, while I contented myself with 
holding hands with Senator Exon.  He felt large and manly beside me, 
imposing, sure of his every move while I trembled under the scourge of 
the oil and my own arousal.  
         The bed waited.  Gratefully we tumbled into it.  We drew the cool 
sheets up around us.  The senator watched, seemingly only half-
interested, retreating to a chair and lighting a cigar.  He had not told us 
we could hop in bed, yet we seemed to know it instinctively.  We had 
shorn ourselves of all our clothing as quickly as if we were naughty 
children.  We rolled and groped and sought each other's bodies as if 
possessed of some fever.  Hotly we clasped each other's most intimate 
parts, held them tightly, rubbed them, sought to impale and be impaled 
by them.  
         I lurched at the first knocking of a cock upon my cunt.  Quickly I 
spread my legs, opening myself up as wide as I could for his entry.  Who 
it was I did not care, so long as he was quick.  He grasped my thighs and 
found his purchase, lodging his head sweetly twixt my clenching lips.  
My girlish tightness, my skittishness, only encouraged him.  Suddenly 
his flaming rod was breaking through and I was lost, saved, both at 
once.  Deeper he plunged and I heard Mandy cry out even as her own cunt 
was violated.  Amidst the swirl of teasing tongues and clutching 
fingers mistress played the ringleader, ensuring that both Mandy and I 
got fucked just as Senator Exon intended, firmly and without pity or 
remorse.  I cried as the lance thrust up within me, opening me, 
bloodying me.  Mandy too proved to be virgin, and suffered her own 
sweet demise at the hands of her lover.  Nameless they took us then, 
humping us fiercely, riding us like the stallions they had proved 
themselves to be.  At last I swooned in a pure bliss of emotion, passing 
out as the world seemed to spin out from under me.
         When I awoke I found myself nestled in the crook of mistress' 
arm, her fingers idly straightening my blonde locks.  Mandy was on her 
other side, where mistress tried a similar feat with her pubic hair, the 
springy curls of that private place proving much less receptive.
         Mistress brushed my hair from my eyes and asked me if I'd 
enjoyed my first fuck.  I lisped something in response, a babyish gurgle.  
The men were in the bathroom, I heard then, peeing lustily into the 
toilet.  I looked over my shoulder and saw the senator watching all, 
satisfied, smoking his elegant cheroot.  A wreath of smoke curled round 
his head, making him look not unlike Santa Claus.  I had just received 
my first present from him.
         "Well girls, now that you're unwrapped, so to speak, I think 
perhaps we should consider spending the next several days trying out 
your new talents, hmmm?" the senator asked.  I took the question to be 
rhetorical, as did Mandy.  We would no doubt stay just as long as he 
wanted us to, no longer, and no shorter either.  "In any event I imagine 
your cunts are going to be on fire soon from those oiled cocks unless 
you get yourselves into the bidet," he laughed.  It was then that I began 
to feel a burning sensation all the way up my vagina, right into my 
uterus.
         "Yeek!"  Mandy cried, and I leapt up along with her.  We scrambled 
off the bed and raced toward the bathroom.  Behind us mistress and the 
senator laughed, eyeing our hastily retreating bottoms.  "Make way!  
Make way!" we cried upon seeing the men, who seemed to hope that we 
were running into the bathroom to have them fuck us again.  We found 
the bidet and awkwardly plopped down together on it.  With manly 
generosity the two lovers who had put us in our present state helped us 
get the spray nozzle going.  They directed it with loving care into our 
cunts, spraying us deeply as we twisted and gyrated under the jet.  
Gradually we were soothed, and finally we arose from the ceramic 
potty, brushing back our hair like schoolgirls done with our homework.  
The men were hard again.  Mandy suggested we let them complete our 
denouement, so we turned and bent forward, clasping our knees and 
presenting our bottoms to them.  Happily they oiled themselves up (this 
time with an ordinary lotion) and, with encouraging sighs and 
breathless grunts from us, they forced their way up our hineys.  
         I felt as if all the air were being driven from me as my lover 
worked at opening my backside with his rod.  "Oooh, no, maybe I 
shouldn't, you're too big," I breathed, but this only made him spread my 
cheeks wider with his gripping hands and drive his cock forward more 
eagerly.  Mandy too expressed second thoughts, which only encouraged 
her lover.
         Moaning and gasping, trying to pull our bodies forward even as the 
men yanked our bottoms backward, we suffered the penile assault.  
Mistress and the senator came to the door of the bathroom and watched 
with contented eyes.  I puffed and shuddered, my heavy breasts 
swinging beneath me with every in-driving thrust from my lover.  
Mandy's titties swung like ripened fruit; together we must have looked 
quite the pair for anyone with a passion for hooters.  When the men 
jetted at last, we both got the enemas of a lifetime.  Their balls 
seemed not to have suffered the least depletion from their forays up 
our cunts.  Drippingly they finally withdrew themselves, and after a 
round of kisses between us they left Mandy and I to clean out our asses 
upon the bidet.  

Chapter Three

         I knelt upon the deep pile carpet.  It was soft.  My legs were 
spread, not excessively, but too wide for a girl who wore no panties.  
My hips were thrust forward.  I offered a luring view of my pussy.  I 
was unconscious, though, of my display.  Mesmerized, I stared with 
astonished eyes at the scene before me.  Mandy was totally nude, as I 
was.  She was bent over a padded leather trestle.  Her wrists and ankles 
were bound to its legs.  A gag restrained her cries, but her eyes stared 
out, tears welling, the eyes of one suffering harm.  
         My hands were clapped to my asscheeks, gripping them, as I 
watched Mandy suffer so exquisitely.  Behind her stood mistress.  I still 
did not know her name.  WeÕd met last night, explored each otherÕs 
bodies, experienced the most intense emotions together.  Yet I still 
knew her only as Òmistress.Ó  Names did not matter.  Beauty mattered.  
Perseverance mattered.  Love mattered.  But not names.  She knew me 
as Barbi, and she knew Mandy by her first name.  All else was 
irrelevant.  All that mattered in the outside world did not matter here.  
         Mistress wore riding boots, plus blue jeans, but was naked from 
the waist up.  Her clothing below seemed only to accentuate the raw 
charm of her upper body.  Her buoyant breasts were free and without 
restraint.  She held a cane, and with every singing stroke of it upon 
Mandy's butt her sumptuous breasts jiggled marvelously.  Beyond stood 
Arthur.  A new player.  He had spent his seed in Mandy's mouth but 
already his cock was becoming elongated.  Breathlessly I watched it.  
Clutching my hiney, I knew what made him grow so quickly, so 
excitedly.  It was the sight of Mandy getting her poor bottom whacked.  
It stimulated him.  I knew that he would want to see me put over the 
trestle next.  
         We were all volunteers here, though.  Within this room, this 
confining space.  Arthur had been introduced to us at Senator ExonÕs.  
We were there no longer.  We were in another chateau.  It was some 
distance from the SenatorÕs.  The generalÕs, I should call it, for Senator 
Exon was never there.  It was the wine at dinner last night that had 
made me think it was him.  He, the Senator, that is, was in Washington.  
Meeting with Donna Rice Hughes on how to ÒprotectÓ me.  Donna Rice, 
formerly mistress to Senator Gary Hart.  SheÕd had Enough now, but I 
hadnÕt.  She wanted to protect me from the Òlittle compromisesÓ sheÕd 
been allowed to make in her life.  IÕd make my own Òlittle 
compromises,Ó I thought.  I did not need her to tell me what to 
compromise and what not to.  She would compromise Liberty to keep me 
from having fun.  
         "Is it wise?" I had asked mistress, watching Arthur put his penis 
to Mandy's mouth.  He had done it just before she was gagged.  I had 
wanted to stop him, but mistress insisted.  Mandy had squirmed upon 
the trestle.  She did not want that big sausage rammed down her throat.  
Mistress did, though, and her will held sway.  
         Watching, I had seen Mandy take ArthurÕs big cock.  I felt 
sophisticated, watching it.  I was in a coffeehouse, in my mind.  I 
brushed a strand of hair from my eyes, felt the wetness of my own lips.  
There was a hunger upon them.  We were discussing the male appendage.  
In my mind I sipped coffee.  It was hot, musky.  The steam from the cup 
tickled my nose.  Yes, I at 15 was commenting upon the male penis, and 
asking questions, but as an equal, not a supplicant.  Mistress answered.  
She demonstrated.  Mandy was stretched over a table, a trestle.  We 
were elegant, cultured.  She was naked, helpless.  She would suffer for 
science.  We would use her as our guinea pig.  I admit, though, I was a 
little jealous of Mandy.  She was about to get what I longed for.  I 
glanced at Donna Rice, she glanced at me.  I watched as ArthurÕs 
gorgeous penis slid into MandyÕs moistly opened mouth.  She took it 
with wide eyes, fearing to gag on it.  He thrust it in, guided by 
mistress, me watching.  ÒIs it wise?Ó I repeated.  
         "DonÕt worry," she replied.  "HeÕs renowned for the prodigious 
amount of sperm he makes.  We will all be well provided for."  She 
spoke of him as a pet.  A male animal.  ÒOf course, he will have to be 
properly stimulated,Ó mistress added.  She whisked her cane lightly 
across MandyÕs bottom.  The girl flinched, eyes popping.  Her breath 
whooshed out the corners of her mouth as Arthur stuffed himself into 
her.  ÒMore,Ó mistress told Mandy.  She pinched the girlÕs nostrils shut 
to encourage her compliance.  ÒTake more.Ó  Mandy whimpered.  She 
tried to speak but her words gagged on ArthurÕs cock.  He pushed 
himself within her small mouth, speared her.  She became a sword 
swallower.
         ÒNow shaft her,Ó mistress told Arthur.  ÒBack and forth.  Do it 
until you spill.Ó  Grimly, knowing he could not last long if he obeyed, 
Arthur set about his task.  Mandy squeaked.  She looked like a little 
mouse to me, stretched tight over the trestle.  She was a baby mouse, 
being force-fed warm, nourishing milk.  Mistress patted ArthurÕs 
bottom.  She looked up at me.  ÒHe can get out of control if you donÕt 
cool him down a little.  HeÕs like Hercules, and if you leave him randy 
heÕll go wild.Ó  She turned her eyes back to Arthur.  ÒSpurt, big boy.  Let 
it come out.  I wonÕt have you rampaging around in here like some bull.  
We girls are delicate.Ó  She looked at me again.  ÒArthur and I have 
played together before.  Whenever you have a big man like him itÕs 
necessary to do this.  Our boys last night were young gentlemen.  You 
can tease those types to your heartÕs content.  But Arthur is a sex 
slave.  A boy toy.  He played football once, never made it to the pros.  He 
was more valuable for other things, hmmm Arthur?Ó  He did not 
respond.  In and out he jerked his shaft, all swollen, the veins pulsing, 
throbbing.  It was slick and wet with MandyÕs sweet saliva.  She looked 
like some hapless sausage machine, expelling the newest knockwurst, 
only to have it rammed back in again.  ÒGo on, get it out of yourself, 
Arthur!Ó mistress scolded.  ÒCome in her mouth.  Suck, girl!Ó she told 
Mandy.  She traced a finger up MandyÕs throat, stung her bottom with 
the cane.
         Suddenly, losing control of his prodigious member, Arthur 
groaned.  For a moment there was nothing, he hung at the edge, just 
over, knowing he would lose his load, yet valiantly trying to prolong his 
possession.  Mistress glared at him.  She would not tolerate leaving his 
seed in his balls.  ÒInto her mouth, boy!Ó she admonished.  She slapped 
his cleft ass.  He surged forward.  Mandy squawked, her cry muffled.  
ArthurÕs last reserve of will gave way.  Sperm jetted into MandyÕs 
mouth, down her throat.  Bulging-eyed she gargled on it.  The stuff ran 
from her lips, backing up, she could not swallow it fast enough.  
Mistress singed her ass with the cane to give her encouragement.
         ÒAhhh,Ó Arthur gritted.  He let his loins have full play now.  
Freely he injected his sperm into Mandy.  She looked like she was 
hooked up to some giant syringe, a cow getting her daily dose of 
fertilizer.  Sperm bubbled from her mouth.  Her lovely breasts swung 
beneath her.  Arthur withdrew at last.  Mandy gasped for air.  Her tongue 
lolled out, sperm-coated, dripping.  Immediately mistress gagged her 
with a cloth, to prevent her screaming.  Not that anyone would hear.  We 
were in a soundproofed room.  But it would be an annoyance, I guessed, 
Mandy squawking and protesting.  The female must be given freedom, 
but only up to a point.  This much I had learned already.  After that she 
must be encouraged by other, brisker means.  Mandy, who had only had a 
few little stingers of the cane to get her going, now turned her head 
and looked frantically back at mistress.  She raised the cane with a 
determined look.  
         ÒNow that ArthurÕs been Ôtopped offÕ, he must be brought up 
again,Ó mistress told Mandy.  I guessed that she meant heÕd been 
neutered a little, made a little less frantic, but now we girls wanted 
his cock big and strong again for the nightÕs festivities.  The cock we 
needed, but too much sperm might set him off.  Yes, that was about how 
one might explain it, I thought.  Mistress wanted him under our control.  
Hard, but not so full of sperm that he was uncontrollable.  We were, 
after all, just girls.  He was a man.  He could dominate us at will.  So 
trickery was needed, and a little planning.      
         One might say that Arthur was our nominal master now, with 
mistress his able lieutenant.  Yet really her presence dominated us all.  
He would not have denied her any wish, or disobeyed any of her 
commands.  It was because of her that we were here now, in this room.  
Myself, clutching my ass.  Mandy over the trestle, receiving the cane.  
And Arthur, our new playmate, his cock leaping at every stroke of the 
cane on MandyÕs peach.

D R E A M G I R L S  L E T T E R S

MERRY EXONMAS! 
from holy joe

         What would Christmas be without television?  Myself, I canÕt even 
think about getting into the Christmas spirit until IÕve seen the Peter, 
Paul and Mary concert 500 times on public television.  Fortunately, they 
start running it 24 hours a day around mid-November, so IÕve Òfilled upÓ by 
December 3rd.  
         I found a new ÒChristmas ClassicÓ on T.V. this year.  It is the 
ÒBeavis and Butthead X-mas Special.Ó  In this program, Beavis becomes 
aware that he has wasted his life.  He has, in the words of his P.E. teacher, 
spent his entire life viewing pornography.  He is told that he never scored, 
because ÒYou never even left the house!Ó
         This is my New YearÕs Resolution -- to leave the house.  I have not 
found Jesus, but I have found Beavis.  I do not want to waste my entire life 
viewing pornography.  However, when you are making a radical change in 
your life, you must set realistic goals.  So my goal for 1996 is to find my 
front door.  It was lost some years ago behind my stacks and stacks of 
pornography.  I have a mail slot in the front door, and every month the 
postman slips my new magazines through the slot.  Then I spend the rest 
of the month looking at Òslots,Ó so to speak.  (heh heh).  Eventually, 
though, I lost track of where my front door is, but I guess the postman 
keeps jamming those mags in there some way, because I do manage to find 
new issues sometimes.
         Reform aside, I do need to find the front door this year.  My hard disk 
is filling up (donÕt ask why), and so I will need to leave my house to go buy 
another hard disk.  IÕd order it by phone, but some years ago my phone got 
too sticky to use, and I never got around to leaving the house to buy a new 
one.  So I will buy a phone too, while I am out.  Hopefully I can accomplish 
this Òfield tripÓ in less than an hour, because I am, you know, a busy man.
         Yes, I truly enjoyed the Beavis and Butthead X-mas Special, and 
(assuming I find the front door) it changed my life.  However, I have since 
discovered that the ending of the show was cut off.  (ThatÕs why there is a 
long, boring ÒLetters to ButtheadÓ section in the middle of it.)  In the 
show, as broadcast, it ends with Beavis and Butthead about to ÒscoreÓ 
with Kathy Kleavage, who is waiting naked under a Christmas tree for 
them.  So you are left thinking that they are actually going to get to fuck a 
girl.  But I couldnÕt imagine them actually scoring.  I mean, IÕve never 
scored, and IÕm (oh well, never mind my age).
         So I did some investigating.  HereÕs the real ending, which was 
ÒBobbittizedÓ by MTV.  Beavis and Butthead go to KathyÕs house.  She tells 
them she wants it up the butt.  So they fuck her up the butt.  They are 
really happy.  Then they discover that Kathy is actually a homosexual 
transvestite.  End of show.  It is too bad this ending was not allowed to be 
broadcast.  They were going to show it, but then they found out that their 
President, Bill Clinton, had recently joined the Panty of the Month Club.  
(That club that you see advertised in the back of Playboy every month.)  
MTV was afraid they might offend President Bill, so they cut off the 
ending to Beavis and Butthead.  (They want him, you know, to come back 
during the next presidential campaign and play with his sexophone and talk 
about his underpants.)
         Well, I hope this Christmas greeting to you does not get me in 
trouble with Senator Exon.  Otherwise, next year, sitting in prison, I will 
have to content myself with the Brian Lamb Christmas Special on C-SPAN.  
That would be a real bummer.  On the other hand, I hear they have lots of 
great porno in prison, and I could forget about having to find the front 
door.    

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