Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 77 Thursday August 10, 1995
alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
watermelon moon
Part Twenty
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Fifteen
A girl in a gossamer apron stopped beside Alicia and offered her an
aphrodisiac-laced sandwich. Alicia politely accepted the tiny affair in
the palm of her hand. She tasted it, and was pleasantly surprised to bite
into pitted black olives. A few moments later she felt a growing heat in
her loins. Were the men, who each, being men, had eaten two sandwiches,
suddenly sporting even bigger, stiffer erections? Alicia couldn't be sure.
One of the men said something and tugged on the hem of her nightie. The
fabric pulled taut over her nipples. The twin buds sparkled with pinpricks
of erotic fire. Alicia said something in response, aware only of how the
men admired the way she formed her lips whenever she pronounced the
letter 'O'.
All around Alicia the crowd grew more alive. The conversations
became bawdier. Politics was replaced with a discussion of anal sex.
"I've never had a man up my bottomhole, and I wouldn't want to
either," Alicia said, surprised at the frankness of her words. The men
replied that one should not discount something until one has at least tried
it.
"Have you had a penis up your bottomhole, then?" Alicia asked. The
men laughed.
"No, but I've introduced a girl or two to the sport. And they were
each just as hesitant as you." One man said.
"Did they like it?" Alicia asked.
"It hurt at first, which no doubt made them wish they could
reconsider, but in the end they both became true connoisseurs of it."
"How many times did you do it to them before they liked it?" Alicia
had just asked, when a flimsy bra drifted past her face to the floor.
"Could you get my bra?" A girl called down from a balcony to Alicia.
The girl squealed suddenly, her bottom pinched, and turned and playfully
slapped a male beside her.
Alicia turned and bent over, legs straight. Only after she had bent
did she realize that her luscious naked derriere was now presenting itself
to the cocks of her two male companions. The men, mustering a
considerable amount of fortitude, each restrained his natural impulse.
Willette noticed that her companions were becoming restless. So
she hurried on to the most amazing part of her dream. She did not speak of
electric sheep. Instead she confined herself solely to the events
concerning the fictional "Alicia":
It was a party game. It was called "Bucking Bronco." A person, in
this case Alicia, mounted a leather saddle that had been tied down over
the upstairs bannister. For comfort's sake, a plush bearskin was draped
over the saddle. Alicia stood on tiptoe, her creamy thighs parted on either
side of the saddle. The furry bearskin rubbed one's genitals during the
game, which is why Alicia preferred to stand rather than adopt the more
comfortable position of sitting with her feet in the stirrups. Other girls
had made the bearskin wet, requiring it to be exchanged for another before
a new participant could play. Alicia found that embarrassing, and did not
want to wet the bearskin herself. She wondered, though, if her choice of
positions would make much difference, in either position her pussy
seemed to be well placed upon the bearskin, maintaining full contact. If
only she were taller. But then the taller girls weren't allowed to stand.
So that was it. The game was designed to arouse. At this party,
apparently, there was no escaping eroticism. And Alicia had been told it
would just be a nice little sorority pajama party. No wonder she had been
relieved of her panties as soon as she had arrived. And they hadn't just
been tucked away somewhere. Alicia's panties had been hung on a wall
designed to serve as a coat rack. Except the only items the rack held were
women's panties. Many were beautiful, expensive panties, of course, but
still, the sight of women's most intimate attire arrayed like fish on
display in a market; it had a decadent air about it.
The girl in the saffron apron came up to Alicia and tickled her
nipples to make them erect. Then she tied a pink bow around each. The
girl then placed her palm on Alicia's shoulder and asked her to bend
forward. Alicia was made to bend until her breasts were fully separated
by the banister. Alicia tilted her chin upward so that her nose and teeth
would not press against the banister. The polished rosewood pressed deep
into the cleft between Alicia's breasts. It was warm from the breasts of
previous players.
Now each of Alicia's breasts was tightly secured at the base with a
cord. The cord was then affixed at its other end to a lever. In case one of
the slim cords broke during the game, for they were little more than
durable ribbons, the two halves of each pink bow about Alicia's nipples
was each caused to meet and bound with a second cord, which was also
attached to the same lever. So the lever had four cords pulling upon it;
one from each base of Alicia's breasts and one from each bow about
Alicia's nipples.
Alicia had two minutes in which to make 110 tugs on the lever. If
she accomplished this on time, the lever, which electronically recorded
each tug, would cause the small male statue at the end of the bannister to
'ejaculate' liquid, in this case spiked party punch. But the statue could
actually be filled with any liquid.
A girl, chosen at random and relieved of what little clothing she
wore, knelt nude beneath the statue, waiting with perhaps a bit of
trepidation for her free drink, mouth open to receive it. The clothing, of
course, had to be removed so that the statue would not wet it. But why
Alicia must spread her legs over a saddle was a mystery to her. Of course,
the game was designed to be played sitting down. And the saddle was
securely tied. Tying and untying it according to the preference of each
player would be time consuming. But Alicia didn't like the way the saddle
spread her legs wide, increasing the contact of the bearskin with her
pussy. Alicia also felt the saddle's effect on the cheeks of her bottom; it
seemed to spread them wide apart, exposing her anus to the other partiers.
Alicia did not wish to invite sodomization.
At the pop of a champagne bottle Alicia began. Her hands gripped the
bannister firmly as she urged her body back and forth upon it, tugging
quickly upon the lever. A whip was lightly applied to her bottom to spur
her on. Each stroke stung Alicia, but there was little she could do, she had
been reluctant to play this game in the first place, relenting only because
every guest was required to participate in at least one activity, and many
of the others promised from their descriptions to be far more lewd than
this. In a way, Alicia welcomed the whip, despite its burning cuts, for if
she failed to make the statue ejaculate she must remain in position while
a naked male was installed at either end of her. Then she must make a
second attempt at causing the statue to ejaculate, again under the
flagellation of the whip, but with the added discomfort of having her lips
press upon the head of a male penis with each push forward. Not only that,
but each backward stroke would promise to press her bottomhole quite
heavily against the eager head of the second male's penis, the back of the
saddle having been cut away to facilitate just this. The thought of the
pre-cum that would most likely be drooling from each man's penis did not
make the situation any more pleasant for Alicia to contemplate. It was
not that she didn't like penises, but the penises of men chosen at random?
It was something she would much rather avoid, preferring to select
herself which man might discharge inside her.
And that was just what any third attempt at making the statue
ejaculate promised. For prior to Alicia's third attempt she would be
required to accept the two penises inside. her. Now she would have to
achieve 110 strokes whilst a penis was embedded in her throat and
rectum. Alicia wished for a moment that God had created girls with two
fewer orifices. It was almost as if she was born to be a receptacle of
male reproductive fluid. Only the vagina could carry sperm to her ovaries.
Yet men seemed to delight in screwing girls down their throats and up
their bottoms, not to mention between their breasts. Perhaps men were
born to do nothing else but fill vessels, cavities, and crevices, anything
that might contain their inner fluid, even if only in a precarious puddle.
Did men really care where their semen went? Or did they only care to
spurt it out? To parade their penises about and wet any young girl who
came along, to ream her until she was sore and then explode inside her.
And some men, when their supply of semen was exhausted, still
preoccupied with expelling fluid, promptly placed their girlfriend in a tub
and urinated upon her. Did the girl enjoy making mudpies when she was
little? Perhaps she would enjoy reliving her childhood, with the male
supplying the ingredients by squatting over the rim of an empty bathtub
and defecating into the lap of the girl inside. Yes, it was indeed as if men
were born to expel, and on girls whenever possible.
All of these thoughts rushed through Alicia's mind as she fought to
ignore the stinging of the whip and accomplish the task of forcing the
statue to ejaculate. Out of the corner of her eye she could perceive half a
dozen inadequately veiled erections, any one of which no doubt hoped to be
chosen to discharge inside her.
Alicia's brow began to speckle with perspiration as she toiled. Her
shoulder-length locks flew back and forth past her eyes. The whip cracked
upon her with measured regularity. Alicia raised up slightly on the back
stroke, then dove downward as she pushed forward to quickly punch the
lever forward. The bannister seemed to be splitting Alicia's breasts
asunder. With each stroke her twin mounds of flesh were forcibly
separated. It wasn't painful, just awkward. It was as if some male lover
were pulling them apart. The hardness of the banister reminded her of the
hardness of a male penis pressed between her breasts. Fortunately, the
banister would not spray her face with semen, no matter how many times
it was run between her bosoms.
"Ye gods, what a boring story," Bob groaned, interrupting Willette's
narrative.
"Well, Dick liked it," Cindy said. Her hand was wet with a spurt of
semen, though Dick had managed to hold back the rest. Cindy continued to
stroke him.
"Well, it was my dream, like it or not," Willette said. "Of course
when I was saying 'Alicia' I really meant me, but I didn't think it would be
wise to keep repeating my own name undergoing that big ordeal. I might
give you guys ideas."
"Don't worry," Bob said. "Let's have another tale!"
"I have a little story," Cindy offered.
"You do?" Bob enthused. "Let's hear it!"
"It's just a little one," Cindy advised.
"Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow," Willette
recited teasingly.
"Stop it!" Cindy cried. She sat up in the bed and attempted to punch
Willette, who drew back.
"Now now, Cindy," Dick consoled the girl. "You just tell your story.
When Willette falls asleep I'll spank her for you." Cindy nestled back down
against Dick and returned her tempting hand to his cock.
"Yes, you do that. Spank her," Cindy groused.
"Well, let's hear your story," Bob said. "I'm game, at least."
"You're an unrepentant sodomite who also has it in for little girls,"
Lori laughed.
"I just want to hear what she has to say," Bob said. "Tell on, Cindy,
never mind these women!"
"Once upon a time," Cindy began, in a high, childish voice, to a
smothered giggle from Willette. Cindy glared at the girl, whose hand was
over her mouth below bright eyes. Then Cindy continued:
Once upon a time there was a very wealthy lady who lived in a very
big city. And she had a very big mansion. With a big back yard. And she
walked outside into her big back yard and so, well, the sun was up and
Lilith (that's her name) was interested in having a little outdoor sport.
Lolita (who was visiting her for a few days with some other fun people)
walked to the window and saw a whole host of athletic-type equipment
spread out on the back lawn. There were also several cameras present to
film the event.
Lolita slipped into a skimpy string bikini and high heels. She smiled
at the thought of the men who would drool over her participation in
Lilith's yard games. No doubt she would "lose" her bra, and even her
panties, in the events which lay ahead.
Lolita accepted a glass of sherry from a girl as she stepped out onto
the lawn.
"Mmm, looks like fun," Lolita commented.
"Nothing better than frolicking in the sun at Lilith's," the girl, named
LeeAnn, replied. "I see you're properly dressed for the occasion."
"No shorts and halter tops for Lilith's P.E. class," Lolita smiled. "And
definitely no sneakers." The two girls giggled.
After some preliminary contests, one of which served to displace
and discard Lolita's bikini bra, the blonde found herself before a piece of
playground equipment known to children as "monkey bars". Lilith,
however, had added an amenity. A wide plastic cylinder ran beneath the
trestle, and it had been thoroughly greased with whipped cream.
"Since you are ladies, and not just squirrelly little girls, with more
to support," Lilith said to the females, with a meaningful glance at their
cleavage, "I have provided a nice, slippery pole to support you as you pull
yourself hand-over-hand across the monkey bars."
In point of fact there were two monkey bars, one next to the other.
The girls were split into two groups and were to race each other across
the monkey bars. The first girl to reach the other end and pluck a grape
from a bunch hanging there would be the winner.
"When you pluck a grape you must do so with your lips and teeth, not
your hand," Lilith instructed the girls. "This is to ensure that a win is not
scored simply because one girl has a longer arm."
"What if she has a longer neck?" A girl asked in fun.
"What if she has giant boobs like Marcy here and can just swing them
and knock down the whole bunch, while the rest of her is at the other
end?" A girl jested.
Lolita happened to be the first selected to go on one of the trestles.
Lilith asked her to remove her panties, and she did so. Then she stepped up
the iron bars at the end of the trestle and gently lowered her pussy onto
the cream covered cylinder. It felt cool against her warm skin. Lolita
then lifted her hands into the air and grasped the first of the monkey bars
above her head. At a cry of "go!" from Beth she began pulling herself
across.
Willette broke out laughing. "Be quiet!" Cindy cried. "I'm trying to
tell my story!"
"I'm getting sleepy," Lori yawned. "Don't I get to tell a story too?"
"Oh, damn," Cindy said. "Just for that I'm not going to tell you how
they throw water balloons at Lolita as she crosses the monkey bars."
"Fine," Willette sighed. Cindy pressed her face to Dick's big shoulder
and began crying.
"There there, don't cry," Dick said, patting Cindy's head. "I enjoyed
your playground adventures."
"So did I," Bob said. "Very much. Although I would have liked just a
little sodomization." Cindy seemed happy to just keep snuffling and
sobbing, with Dick caressing her. Lori ignored Cindy's latest distress and
began her tale:
"It's time to bathe your bottom," Lisa said matter-of-factly.
"My what?" Susie stammered. "But, but it's already clean." Even to
comment on the cleanliness of one's bottom seemed absurd, and this was
polite company.
"Of course it's clean, in the usual way," Lisa said softly. Her fingers
trailed up Susie's blouse and flicked open her top button. "But you're to be
cleansed for a caning. And that requires special attention."
"Wh-why?" Susie blurted. Whether she was asking about the
impending washing of her bottom or the need for it to be caned was
unclear.
"Because men take great pride in bringing a girl's bottom to the cane,
and it is important that you please them to the utmost by having the most
lustrous heinie possible," Lisa whispered. Her lacquered fingernails were
halfway down Susie's blouse now, and soon the other guests would notice
her increased decolletage. Susie put a hand up to Lisa's, but the brunette's
simply slipped out underneath and went on down to the next button. "You
should take pride in your derriere, dear."
"But not in front of everyone," Susie protested.
"Yes, in front of everyone," Lisa said. Her fingernails opened Susie's
final button and a woman, suddenly appearing behind Susie, yanked her
blouse off her shoulders. Susie was aghast as her breasts bobbed into full
view of the guests around her.
A man appeared at Susie's elbow as her blouse was shorn from her
unresistant arms. "My dear, you look even more elegant than before," the
man said in a voice besotted with the accent of the French. Indeed,
standing as she was naked from the waist up, with her pearls still about
her neck and dangling whitely from her ears, Susie was a girl any man
would have turned from his lover to look at. Lisa sensed, however, that
Susie might crack at this exposure and attempt an escape. Just as every
man in the room was turning to gaze at Susie's naked boobs Lisa slipped a
white, frilly bra up her arms and over her breasts. The woman who had
helped disrobe Susie now took the bra's hooks and closed them behind
Susie's back.
A large man trundled into the room with a steaming tub of water.
Lisa and Annette, the woman who had helped undress Susie, took one of
each of her hands and firmly led her over to a leather couch. It was jet
black, and Susie knew how her white skin would look against it, especially
covered with shimmering bubbles. Susie gulped. Lisa unzipped Susie's
dress. The garment fell to the carpet, pooling about Susie's ankles. Susie
was persuaded to step out of the fallen dress.
The blonde's breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of
herself in a mirror. All about her were men and women in formal attire.
Yet she herself now stood only in a bra, panties, and high heels, with
jewelry of course. The latter two she doubted she would be asked to
remove. Susie glanced over her shoulder at the mirror on the opposite
wall, behind her. What obscene picture would that particular slab of mica
be reflecting back only moments hence? Susie felt a pressure in the small
of her back.
"Lie down, dear, over the arm of the couch, that we might begin,"
Lisa said gently.
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
ÒCoast to coast, kid dumping has become such a pervasive
problem that it was the subject of a panel discussion at the American
Booksellers Association spring meeting in Chicago. ...ItÕs the
increasingly shady practice of parents -- often professional and
suburban -- to park junior in local multimedia and toy stores while
they run off on errands.Ó -- Newsweek, August 14, 1995, pg. 60
MEANWHILE...
ÒExpect middle-aged Americans to demand more protection for
their children, whether they are toddlers in day care or young adults in
college. Institutions of higher education are likely to discover that the
old-fashioned policy of in loco parentis has powerful advantages as a
marketing tool. Strict on-campus discipline will appeal to fearful
parents who are unwilling to grant their children independence at the
vulnerable age of 18.Ó -- American Demographics, August 1995, pg. 31
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