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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
TORRID TWEENS
Chapter Two
He was pulling out of the parking lot in his corvette when he saw
her. She was a blonde. Her long blonde hair caught his attention and he
paused to savor it. Normally he would have darted ahead. He didnÕt like
having to wait for pedestrians. But seeing her, he slowed his truck, and
stopped. He waited. His courtesy, so unusual in the modern fast-paced,
self-centered world, caught her attention. But she wasnÕt fooled, as she
looked at him from the sidewalk, and then stepped out in front of him and
crossed. She was only 13 but she knew his eyes were fixed on her lovely
hair, and her body. Suddenly the center of attention, despite the half-
eaten gummi bear in her hand, she tossed back her head. She wiggled her
hips. She wasnÕt very good at showing off her figure yet and her
movements were awkward, but her body was so young and lovely that he
didnÕt mind her awkwardness. It was attractive, her fledgeling attempts
to make a display of herself. But there was a rude, teasing quality to her
face as she passed in front of him. She was not amused by his stare. She
gave herself a whorish young wiggle to get revenge on him for looking at
her. It scared him, how she knew he was watching, and didnÕt like it. Yet
he stared anyway. As he watched her, his mouth fell open without him
noticing it. He gaped at her long legs, which were exceptionally long, and
clad in tight jeans that emphasized the swell of her ass. Above her
wiggling behind he gazed at the slope of her back. Before she had gotten
to the point where he could only see her back, he had examined her face
and breasts. Her face was angelically cute, as one might expect on a girl
who was only 13. Her breasts were mouthwateringly large.
She regained the safety of the sidewalk beyond the parking lot exit.
But her hips continued to jiggle, and he knew she was doing it for him,
still continuing to taunt him. She finished her gummi bear and reached
into the bag she was carrying for another one. ÒLongsÓ, the bag said on its
side. ThatÕs how his penis felt. Long, and painfully hard in his pants. He
wondered how he could meet her. He wanted to just drive up to her, along
the road, and call out to her, but that would look ungainly, unsafe even, in
this fast-paced but paranoid world. So he yanked his vehicle out and tore
past her, his engine roaring. He did not look at her as he passed her. He
didnÕt want her to know how much he wanted her.
He guessed she might pass by the park that was a few hundred feet
down the street. Quickly he parked his car, under the concealing shade of
a tree.
ÒThis is stupid!Ó he cursed himself. He already had a 13-year-old
girlfriend. What was he doing chasing after another girl? A vision of the
dog with the bone in its mouth, over the river, flashed through his mind.
In wanting the boneÕs reflection, in the river, the dog opened its mouth and
lost the one he was already holding.
Quickly he walked back down along the street, on the sidewalk,
wondering if the girl had already reached her home, for there were homes
lining both sides of the street, and spreading out in a network of streets
beyond the main street he was on now. And then he saw her. She was
coming toward him. She was not making such a display of her figure
anymore. She didnÕt think anyone was watching her now. He slowed. He
drew closer to her. Still she didnÕt see him, absorbed in her thoughts, in
her gummi bears. Again he cursed himself for not letting her go. But she
was so cute! He wanted, at least, one more look at her, if it wouldnÕt get
him in trouble. She had a wealth of blonde hair spreading across her back,
tumbling forward over her slender shoulders. As she came toward him
now, facing him, he thought of her hair cascading down her back, how it
had gleamed in the sun as she passed him in the parking lot. He watched
her tits. The overhead sun gave them an extra heaviness, creating a
shadow under their roundness.
Suddenly she turned. She crouched down. He stopped in his tracks,
wondering if he had scared her. But she hadnÕt seen him, she had instead
paused to squat down and look at a squirrel. She offered the squirrel the
gummi bear in her hand. The animal advanced toward her. She extended
her hand farther. The squirrel crept closer. Steven felt the same way,
walking slowly toward the girl, afraid of her yet attracted by her.
The squirrel bit at the gummi bear. It turned and scampered away.
The girl stared after it, disappointed. Steven walked up to the girl and his
shadow fell across her. She looked up. For a moment fear showed on her
face. He flinched, she could do anything on this busy street. She could
call out, scream, even run out amidst the passing cars.
ÒWhat do you want?Ó the girl asked him with a suddenly insolent
look on her face. Steven felt his whole body quiver, his whole muscular
athletic frame. He wanted her, did she want him? Or was he bothering
her? That could carry a heavy penalty in this society.
ÒYou-- you shouldnÕt be so hard on me. I only think youÕre cute,Ó
Steven answered. The girlÕs features softened. Her eyes slipped up and
back down StevenÕs body. To his embarrassment he realized that his pants
still had their lump. He had noticed it walking, but it had not risen high
enough in his consciousness for him to be fully aware of the implications
of it. The girl was so cute, his lust for her so desperate, his fear of
things not going as he wished so anguished. But now he realized he was
standing on a sidewalk by a busy street with his dick sticking out, covered
by his pants but still visible in outline, a tortured lump of flesh, bent back
in on itself, a trapped snake. And, worse, he was staring down at a 13-
year-old girl, and he wasnÕt 14 or even 15. He was 40.
But she liked his body. That was apparent in her eyes. She smiled.
Steven felt a wave of relief wash over him. Still crouching childlike on
the edge of the sidewalk, a gummi bear in her right hand, a whole bag of
them in her left, she let her eyes settle on his cock.
ÒYouÕve got a big one,Ó she said.
ÒThanks,Ó Steven answered. Awkwardly he turned toward the trees
in the park, so as not to display himself to the passing motorists.
ÒI like guys with big ones,Ó the girl said to Steven, still looking up
at him.
ÒIÕm glad,Ó Steven said. He gave a nervous gulp. He looked down at
her and said, ÒYouÕre welcome to it. ItÕs driving me crazy.Ó She giggled.
He joined her laughter, laughing with her. The squirrel returned. It
sniffed again at her hand, at the gummi bear dwelling within it. It bit.
Her giggle rose to a gleeful shout. It darted away, taking a piece of the
gummi bear with it. ÒI would have thought heÕd only eat nuts,Ó Steven
said, watching the squirrel scamper into the shadows of the trees, his
own shadow still falling across the girl.
ÒNo, they like gummi bears,Ó the girl said.
ÒDo you feed them often?Ó Steven asked.
ÒSort of. I tried giving them a pixie stick last week, but they didnÕt
want any,Ó she replied. She put the rest of her gummi bear on the ground.
She stretched. She got up. She turned toward Steven, a suddenly febrile
look on her face. Her hand reached out and it stroked his shirt. Her eyes
fixed on his chest but he was aware of her attention actually being lower,
down below his waist, where he was lumpily making a show of himself.
ÒYou should get inside,Ó she whispered to him, in a kind of half-awed
voice, letting her fingertips graze him, feeling the muscles of his tight
chest.
ÒYes,Ó he agreed.
ÒCome over to my house,Ó she said.
ÒAre- are your parents home?Ó he asked her. She looked up into his
face.
ÒUm, that wouldnÕt work, I suppose,Ó she said.
ÒYou can come with me,Ó he offered. And then he laughed, at the
unintended but oh so powerfully desired implication of his words. She
caught the double meaning and she smiled.
ÒI would like that,Ó she said. ÒBut not today. My momÕs expecting
me. YouÕre too old for me to introduce you to her. SheÕs always telling me
to stay away from strange men. Especially men who like me.Ó She looked
down at him, frankly taking in the sight of his errant penis. ÒI donÕt know
what to tell you to do about that,Ó she said. ÒI know all about them. When
they get hard like that they canÕt stop until they shoot out white stuff.Ó
ÒYes,Ó he agreed, breathlessly.
ÒI guess youÕll just have to manage without me,Ó she said, and
giggled.
ÒI- I guess so,Ó he stammered.
ÒWhat are you going to do? Buy Playboy?Ó she asked him frankly.
ÒIÕm not sure,Ó he said, and she was right-- he was so hard and
excited now, he wouldnÕt be able to rest until he had depleted his lust.
She tapped his chest with her small 13-year-old finger. ÒBut Playboy,Ó
she told him in a confident voice. ÒBut think of me as you jerk on your
penis, or whatever you guys do to get the white stuff out when youÕre by
yourself.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó he said, her body still in his shadow, disbelieving that he
could be standing on a busy street with an erection in full view, listening
to advice from a girl in the seventh grade on how to relieve himself.
ÒWhen-- when can I see you again?Ó he asked her.
ÒTomorrow,Ó she said. ÒMy mother wonÕt be home tomorrow,Ó she
said. ÒYou can come over then and we will do it.Ó
ÒWe will?Ó he asked in an unusually high-pitched, startled voice.
She looked up at him suspiciously. He gulped. She had not liked his sudden
girlish-like squeal. But her fingers were still on his chest and she did
like the taut, hardened muscles she could feel under his shirt.
ÒYes,Ó she said. ÒI will wear my prettiest dress and my highest
heels and then weÕll get on my bed and you can pop my cherry.Ó
He gasped. She ignored his awkward exhalation of breath and leaned
forward and kissed his shirt, lightly.
ÒIÕve been looking for someone to pop my cherry,Ó she said. She
grinned at him. ÒI think youÕll do quite nicely,Ó she said. ÒEven if you are
a little old.Ó
The next day he rang her doorbell. SheÕd given him directions to her
house as they stood on the edge of the park the previous day, cars passing
them, unsuspecting. Now he was here, having found her place. It was 3
oÕclock in the afternoon. Most adults were at work and he was supposed to
be at work too, but heÕd taken the day off to fuck her, a 13-year-old virgin.
When she opened the door to her house he was startled at her appearance.
She looked unusually childish, in a pinafore dress, her hair in pigtails,
white stockings on her legs, pretty black shoes with high heels on her
feet.
ÒCome in,Ó she smiled, unaware of how youthful she looked in her
dress. Yesterday sheÕd been in scruffy jeans, a t-shirt, looking like a
young teen. Today she looked like a little girl dressed for Sunday School.
Feeling guilty, he allowed her to bring him into her house. She
gestured to the living room furniture, cheap knockoff brands from a
discount store. But she smiled grandly, and asked, ÒHow do you like it?Ó
ÒItÕs a nice house,Ó he said.
ÒThank you,Ó she smiled. ÒWould you like something to drink?Ó
ÒSure,Ó he said, realizing she wanted to copy the romantic scenes
sheÕd seen in movies.
ÒWhatÕs your preference?Ó she asked.
ÒA coke is fine.Ó
ÒNo. We must both have some kind of wine,Ó she said to him.
ÒAlright. Burgundy,Ó he said.
ÒWhich one is that?Ó she asked.
ÒI donÕt know. Where do you keep the wine?Ó
ÒIn the kitchen. In the cabinet,Ó she said. He went with her to the
kitchen. He picked out a bottle behind a louvered door, where paper towels
and cans of food were kept. She didnÕt know how to open the bottle and so
he opened it for her. She got wine glasses out of a hutch in the living
room, fluted glasses, and he poured wine for both of them.
ÒMmmm. Good!Ó she said.
ÒWeÕll have to get rid of the bottle or something,Ó he suggested.
ÒOtherwise your mother will find it open and wonder whoÕs been drinking
it.Ó
ÒGood idea,Ó she said. She drank from her glass again and then said,
ÒNow letÕs go to bed.Ó
ÒJust like that?Ó he asked.
ÒIsnÕt that how itÕs done?Ó she said.
ÒI- I guess so,Ó he answered. He became very hard in his pants and
she looked down at him.
ÒDid you read Playboy last night?Ó she asked him.
ÒYes,Ó he answered.
ÒDid you think of me?Ó she asked, her voice becoming excited.
ÒYes,Ó he confessed.
ÒNow you can have me for real!Ó she cried delightedly.
ÒOkay,Ó he said. They went together into her bedroom, holding hands,
each holding a wine glass in their free hand. He helped her out of her
clothes. She got him out of his, marvelling at his cock when she freed it,
as he gazed rapturously at her lithe young nude body. They yanked down
the coverlet of her bed. Clasping hands, they climbed up onto it. It was a
small single-sized bed, but they hardly noticed, kneeling on it now, on the
white smooth sheets, kissing, his cock banging her belly, her hands flying
up and clinging to his neck, his own hands groping around the soft slim
circumference of her waist, then gliding down over the silky bulb of her
bottom.
ÒOooh!Ó she breathed, as he clutched at her ass with his large
feverish hands.
ÒYou feel delicious,Ó he sighed. She let go of him and wiggled out of
his grip.
ÒLetÕs have a pillow fight!Ó she suggested.
ÒA what?Ó he asked. She reached down and gave him her pillow.
Then she jumped off the bed, and a moment later she was gone. He knelt
on the bed, feeling ridiculous, wondering if heÕd somehow been set up. But
she returned a moment later, a pillow in her hands, one that sheÕd gotten
from a closet or perhaps from her motherÕs bed. He didnÕt know, it hardly
mattered, a moment later it was hitting him in the penis. He groaned at
the pain of the blow, not really difficult to bear but dangerously arousing,
making him want to spend. He retaliated by lifting up his own pillow, that
sheÕd given him a moment before, and hitting her in the breasts. She
gasped. Her big titties wiggled on her chest. He gazed at the points of
them, so hard, so perfect in their pebble-sized roundness. He could have
hit her again, in the face, but he didnÕt want to be too hard on her. She
was only 13, caught between a desire to be a woman and to have childish
fun. He waited for her to attack him again. Grunting, her boobs still
wobbling from his blow but heaving now as she drew in a breath, she
struck him again in the groin. He gasped. He nearly lost himself as his big
long dick was sent into a mad quiver.
ÒOh no! My mom!Ó she abruptly cried. A wave of terror passed over
him. In the distance he suddenly recognized the sound of a garage door
being raised. Her garage door, to her house. She leapt into her bed.
ÒWhat should I do?Ó he asked her.
ÒI donÕt know!Ó she gasped. She got under the sheets of her bed. He
was still kneeling on her bed but he was at the side, leaving her room for
her refuge under the sheets. She looked up at him. ÒIÕm going to sleep,Ó
she told him.
ÒWhat am I supposed to do?Ó he asked her frantically.
ÒClimb out the window,Ó she suggested. He got off her bed. She
watched him as he did so, with his rippling muscles, his athletic arms and
legs, his heavy balls and his big, wobbling dick. Hearing someone open a
door to the house, he scooped up his clothes. He went to a window at the
back of her bedroom. He pushed back her lacy curtains, with teddy bears
printed on them. He found the latch to her window and raised it. He looked
out. He saw her back yard. There was a fence, houses with staring
windows peered over her fence. But there was very little chance that
anyone was home at 3 oÕclock in the afternoon, he realized. So he dropped
his clothes out her window and then climbed out after them. It was
difficult. For a moment he found himself sitting on her windowsill,
crouched down, with his too-full balls pressing hard against the sill. She
stared at him as he escaped. He thought he saw her hand move down her
body under the sheets, to touch herself. He suspected she liked the sight
of his penis and balls perched on her sill, despite the fear showing in her
face, at the sound of her motherÕs approach. Outside, he dove down below
her open window. He smelled the lawn, he felt it against his bare feet.
ÒLaurie?Ó a womanÕs voice called out. It sounded very close.
ÒYes mom?Ó
ÒWhat are you doing in bed? Why are your clothes all over the
floor?Ó
ÒI donÕt feel well, mom.Ó
ÒLet me check your temperature.Ó
ÒItÕs okay, mom.Ó A sound of movement. ÒYou donÕt have to feel my
forehead, mom.Ó
ÒItÕs hot. YouÕre hot all over.Ó
ÒI- I think I have a fever.Ó
ÒYou most certainly do. Let me get my thermometer. Did you come
home early from school?Ó
ÒNo, mom.Ó
ÒGood girl. IÕll get my thermometer. Maybe you should skip school
tomorrow.Ó
There was another sound of movement, but he was hardly paying
attention now. Or, rather, he was paying attention, but his mind was
distracted by the difficulties of his circumstances. He was crouched
down outside her window, under the baleful stare of the windows of the
homes adjacent to hers. With nervous hands, all too conscious of his erect
penis, he groped for his underpants. He tried to get one foot into them
without raising himself up so high that his head would show above the sill
of her window. He had just managed the feat when suddenly her head
popped out the side of her house.
ÒPssst!Ó
He looked up. There she was, her tits lolling on her sill, the tips of
them a pointy invitation.
ÒWhat?Ó he asked angrily.
ÒCome back tomorrow,Ó she said.
ÒSure,Ó he answered.
ÒPromise?Ó she asked.
ÒYes,Ó he hissed. He heard her scamper back to her bed. Her mother
returned.
ÒLie still and open your mouth,Ó the girlÕs mother said. He got his
other foot through the other leg hole of his underpants. Hastily he pulled
them up. He found he could not get the shorts over his stiff erection. He
grabbed his pants, he held them against his body and crouched tensely,
listening as her mother counted off the time on her watch.
ÒThree minutes,Ó she said. ÒYouÕve got to lie still for three minutes.
Breathe through your nose. DonÕt open your mouth.Ó A sound of gurgling;
the girlÕs agreement.
ÒTwo minutes and thirty seconds,Ó the woman said. More gurgling.
He waited for the girlÕs mother to finish.
ÒHmmm. Just slightly elevated,Ó the mother said. ÒYou donÕt seem
to have a fever. Why are you so hot?Ó
ÒI donÕt know, mom.Ó
ÒMaybe you should take a cool bath.Ó
ÒI donÕt want a bath. ItÕs only 3 oÕclock in the afternoon!Ó
ÒWell, pick up your clothes, then. You shouldnÕt leave them scattered
all over the place.Ó
The mother left the girlÕs bedroom. Laurie returned to the window.
Again Steven found himself looking up at her glorious naked tits, her
sweet angelic face, her nipples so stiff with excitement.
ÒI donÕt have a temperature. I guess IÕll have to go to school
tomorrow,Ó she told Steven.
ÒOkay,Ó Steven said. Hurriedly he dressed, standing up to do it,
ignoring the windows that stared down at him from the surrounding
houses. He had to get out of here! He could only pray no one was watching.
He kissed Laurie goodbye, through her window. He promised to try to stop
by the next day, in the afternoon, if it looked like her mom wasnÕt home.
Laurie told him what kind of car her mother drove. A blue Honda Accord.
Her father lived in another state.
Wearing his disheveled clothes, he ran around to the front of her
house. Fortunately he had parked a little distance away. Her mother
suspected nothing. If she had seen his car, she had assumed it was
someone visiting one of her neighbors. Steven dashed to his car, got into
it, started it. He rushed away, leaving the houses with their staring
windows behind him, swearing to himself that he would never visit that
foolish young girl again.
Janice walked across the room. She had long black hair. It wreathed
her face. It was pinned up lightly, strands of it falling down past her
cheeks, down her neck, springing gently against her shoulders. She tossed
her purse on a chair. She sighed. It had been another long day at work.
Buying stocks, selling stocks, selling stocks short, all for clients, with a
few trades on the side for her own account. The market had been behaving
badly lately. She looked at herself in a mirror. She gazed into her dark
eyes. She laughed. The market needed a spanking.
Was it worth it? She wondered. All that rushing around every day,
responding to hectic telephone calls, giving advice on stocks that might
tank at any moment, or rise to wonderful highs that were in themselves
potentially dangerous and overvalued. She gazed at her face, looked for
lines, saw none. She was still young. She was only 30. She still had a
smashing figure. Yes, she breathed. Yes, it was worth it. If only for the
parties she could throw with the money she made. Those wonderful
weekend parties, with her husband and their ever-expanding circle of
friends. Bob was only a house painter. Muscular, ruggedly handsome, but
with a paycheck that didnÕt buy much. Certainly not the mansion they
lived in, in their exclusive neighborhood with the three acre yard. And not
their fancy bondage gear either, down in their basement. He looked
wonderful in the nude, but it was her salary that made all this possible,
not his. He contributed himself and his sperm. She provided all the rest.
She drew in her breath. She watched as her breath lifted her
breasts. Her tits still had a ripe uptilted slope to them. She liked that.
Some of her friends at work, who were her own age, had lost their
carriage, their tits sloping down with age, sagging, no longer young and
perky. But she had somehow managed to keep her figureÕs youthful grace.
She was able to play the dominatrix and yet she still had the initiateÕs
body. She wondered how long it would last. She sighed again.
Still wearing her work clothes, she went downstairs. Down in the
cellar she began absently polishing the gear that she and her husband kept
there. The long splendid chains, the pointed clinging hooks, the metal
surgical gear that she and her husband kept locked in a cabinet for guests
who wanted to play doctor. How she loved this place! Every weekend she
and a few select friends, plus her husband, played down here. All of the
morays and restrictions of the world beyond were forgotten. Nothing was
taboo here, save that nobody was to be permanently injured. Sex and
pleasure mingled with pain, each heightening the other, the comfort of
their mansion always waiting above them for them to retreat to when the
roughness of the cellar became too much for them. She had worked for
several years now, since being introduced to bondage, to fulfill her own
private mantra for her parties: ÒThe ultimate in pleasure and pain.Ó There
was no expense spared on the upstairs rooms, with their soft satin sheets,
their deep plush carpets, their heavy well-cushioned chairs. Paintings on
the walls spoke of refined, modest tastes. Who would ever guess, passing
through those upstairs rooms, that such a chamber of horrors lurked down
here? Janice went to a wooden post set in the middle of the floor. She
lifted a chain that hung from it. She applied her Brasso-impregnated
polishing rag to it. Lovingly she stroked it. She remembered this chain
wrapped around CindyÕs smooth flat belly the previous week, her lovely big
breasts poised above it, her nipples excited, her mouth opening into a
rictus as her husbandÕs whip struck her across her thighs. Cindy was so
sweet and perfect, only 25, with long blonde hair. She looked delicious
being fucked by Bob, Janice kissing her mouth, the young woman still
groaning from the pain inflicted by the whip. Yes, they must have her
again. This weekend. She would call her and invite her. Or had she
already? Janice couldnÕt remember. The market had been so tumultuous
lately, it had wiped everything else from her mind. And little Brenda,
with the short brown hair, they must have her also. She had such an
exquisitely slim figure. She was only 19, still in college, doing a little
part-time work at the stockbroking firm down the street from her own.
She still remembered when sheÕd first broached the subject of bondage to
the girl one day at lunch, the two of them sitting together. Brenda had
blinked, had given her a look of pure innocence. It had been a week-long
job to convince her to attend one of their parties. But the girl had loved
it, once she arrived. All the men, all the attractive young women. The
freedom to be what sheÕd always secretly wanted to be, but didnÕt know
how to be. A whore, without being a whore. A slut, a slave. Someone
passed around and admired by the crowd, undressed and fucked and defiled
by it. And she participating, her breasts naked, fondled, her pussy wet and
inviting. Her legs open, her bottom forced. They had put her on the
operating table in the cellar and unlocked the cabinet. She had shouted
with fear when she saw the blades and the cutting saw. They had laughed,
they had ÒoperatedÓ on her. But there was no permanent damage, only a
few slight cuts, a bruise here and there. And, of course, the soreness
afterward, for they had probed her very deeply, using the dispassionate
equipment to do it, after having had her among themselves, spending their
passion on her and inside her.
ÒYes. I will ask Brenda to come,Ó Janice said to herself. ÒIÕll have
to think up something especially wicked for her this week.Ó Suddenly she
became aware of a ringing sound. It was the phone, upstairs. She tried to
ignore it but it kept on ringing and so finally she went upstairs and
answered it.
ÒJanice?Ó
ÒYes?Ó
ÒThis is Cindy.Ó
ÒOh, Cindy! Hi!Ó
ÒI met a guy. He has a 13-year-old girlfriend. He was wondering if
they could party with us.Ó
Ò13?Ó
ÒYes.Ó
ÒOh my,Ó Janice said.
Brenda hurried across the street. Her short hair bounced as she
moved. Her tits, small but perfectly shaped, wiggled on her chest. She
wore a light clingy bra, under her blouse. She didnÕt like hiding what she
had. Her skirt was short on her legs, showing their length. She felt heads
turn as she passed in front of the waiting cars. The ÒWalkÓ sign changed
to ÒDonÕt WalkÓ and began flashing. Someone whistled. Brenda smiled.
Here in this busy city, with its obsession with money, there was a second
passion, less obvious but there, under the cityÕs throbbing exterior: sex.
And she was in the center of it now, in the swirl, after spending her years
in high school being considered a nerd. SheÕd ditched her glasses. She had,
seemingly at the last minute, grown breasts. Her too lanky figure had
filled out, just enough to make men drool. And now with her friend Janice
she was at last tasting all life had to offer. She was sure Janice and Bob
would invite her again this weekend. SheÕd been a good little slave last
weekend, letting Bob whip her for the first time, her first taste, the
strokes agonizing against her thighs and yet somehow fulfilling. It had
been a month now, since sheÕd started going to their parties. She counted
off the dates to herself. On the third of this month sheÕd been introduced.
Everyone had wanted a taste of her, the women as well as the men. She
barely knew the names of the men whoÕd fucked her. It didnÕt matter, it
wasnÕt supposed to matter. They were safe. Janice had assured her that
sheÕd done everything to ensure that they harbored no diseases. They were
gentle with her and yet firm; she was there to be penetrated, she must not
resist beyond the demands of her own modesty, to preserve her pride. On
the tenth sheÕd been taken downstairs for the first time. There they had
terrified her by placing her on a table and operating on her. Nothing
serious was done to her, just a few playful cuts, one on her arm and one on
her thigh, one very lightly across her belly. Then they had probed her,
using wicked cold dispassionate devices. What really scared her was that
her edge of passion had already been dimmed a little, because they had
fucked her repeatedly upstairs beforehand, so that now everything seemed
too cold and sterile, too sinister. But she endured it, and was kissed by
everyone afterward. They had been very proud of how brave she was. On
the seventeenth it had been a pool party. TheyÕd partied out back, in the
nude in the swimming pool, having water fights and, afterward, a nude
barbecue. The night had ended with them all going inside and having a rude
fucking contest in the living room, the men arched behind the women, the
women racing across the room like horses with the men stuffed up inside
them. It had been the first time sheÕd taken cock up her bottom, because
the rules of the contest required it. With a man whose name she knew
only as ÒDaveÓ stuffed up her ass, sheÕd tried to escape him, friskily
crawling across the carpet, he following with his loins pressed to her
hinds, his dick deep inside her. It had been difficult letting him in,
awkward and painful to race in the contest with him shoved up her like
that. But sheÕd done it, and they had applauded her afterward, though she
never managed to formally cross the finish line, the pain of his
penetration becoming too much for her to bear, his own pleasure
overwhelming him. And last week, she been taken downstairs and
whipped. How the thing had stung her! She screamed, she cried. Janice
only responded by kissing her face. Bob fucked her when he was through
whipping her, using her as if her cunt might be a urinal for him to spend
his lust in. She had borne it all, they had been very proud of her. Now she
would go back again this weekend. What would Janice have planned for her
this time? She couldnÕt begin to know. She felt her nipples rise on her
chest as she thought of it. She bit her lip. She mustnÕt think of such
things when she was still trying to get home from work. It made her wet.
She didnÕt want to sit on the train with wet panties.
ÒWho is coming this weekend?Ó Bob asked Janice at dinner. Above
them a chandelier sparkled its light on their table. They ate with fine
silver, on china plates. But their conversation was less refined.
ÒBrenda, for one,Ó Janice said. ÒI think IÕm going to give her an
enema.Ó
ÒMmmm. That will test that cute little ass of hers. How much do
you think sheÕll be able to hold?Ó
ÒA quart, I hope.Ó
ÒGod, I so want to get my cock up that ass of hers.Ó
ÒWhy donÕt you?Ó
ÒThereÕs so much on offer.Ó
ÒYes. YouÕre popular,Ó Janice agreed.
ÒAnd who else?Ó Bob asked, cutting another piece of his chicken
fillet.
ÒBrenda. She says she wants to bring a guy with a 13-year-old
girlfriend.Ó
ÒI have no objection.Ó
ÒYou wouldnÕt.Ó
ÒIÕm sure you can hire a fancy lawyer if things become troublesome
afterward.Ó
ÒIÕm sure I could, but do we really want a child here?Ó
ÒWhat age were you when you first had sex?Ó
ÒUm, 12.Ó
ÒI was 12 too. So that settles that.Ó
ÒProvided I have enough money to hire a lawyer if the girl proves to
be a tattle tale.Ó
ÒYou do.Ó
The phone rang. Janice sighed and got up from the table. But a
moment later her voice was bright, sailing in from the other room. It was
Cindy, and Bob smiled thinking of the luscious 25-year-old blonde. When
Janice returned and sat down again Bob asked her what Cindy wanted.
ÒApparently this guy, the one with the 13-year-old girlfriend, now
he has two 13-year-old girlfriends.Ó
ÒLucky guy,Ó Bob said.
ÒYes. I guess,Ó Janice said.
ÒBring them both,Ó Bob said. Janice arched a brow.
ÒYouÕre having me and Brenda this week, right?Ó
ÒOf course.Ó He grinned at her.
ÒI wonder what youÕre up to while IÕm working all day,Ó Janice said
to him.
ÒPainting houses,Ó Bob said.
ÒNot fucking the little girls in the neighborhood?Ó
ÒNo. Of course not. TheyÕre all in school.Ó
ÒHmmmm.Ó
ÒThe chickenÕs wonderful, dear.Ó
ÒThank you.Ó
30
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