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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
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Chapter Two
If anyone in the study had been promised my hymen, the offer
must have been withdrawn once Kimber received the note inviting us to
the Andes. Apparently a woman at the party, approving of my looks and
my demeanor, had telephoned a certain wealthy Argentinean general
right from KimberÕs study. And he had issued an invitation, which she
had passed along to Kimber. The remaining men who pumped me that
evening came without regret, spending within my mouth quite happily.
They were lined up three deep at one point, each determined to get his
chance at my newly debauched mouth. My lips were sore when it finally
ended. Several times more a woman came to my snatch, but tongued me
gently so as not to damage my hymen in any way. It had, apparently,
some new value.
A small private jet whisked us toward our destination early the
next morning. There was myself, Kimber, and Debbi on the plane, plus a
pilot, co-pilot, and a middle-aged woman who fed us and served us
cocktails. I asked Kimber if she was saving my virginity for someone.
"A little at a time, darling," Kimber replied. "I was eager to see
you lose it, but now, well, perhaps we can delay the ceremony a bit,
hmmm?"
"It's mine, isn't it?" I asked.
"Of course." She rose, excused herself and went into the plane's
bathroom.
"Don't think your asshole will be so lucky," Debbi smirked.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I hear the general we're visiting is an ass man," Debbi said.
"Oh, poof," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I only accepted
an invitation to come, not to, you know, cum."
I turned and gazed out the window. The fertile green fields below
were giving way to mountains. They rose powerfully up from the
landscape. Their tops were wreathed in clouds. This was, wasn't it,
the 90's? A girl like me could do as she pleased. I could tease men, or
not, as my heart fancied. There were rape laws to protect girls like
me. Even Mike Tyson knew that. So let some man invite me to his
mountain chalet. Janet Reno would protect me, and Oprah Winfrey too.
I'd do just what I wanted, when I wanted, and no more.
I pressed my nose to the windowpane. I watched as clouds drifted
by. Sometimes they obscured the view below, sometimes not. I looked
for Zeus in the darker clouds but did not see him.
Some time later we broke through an underlying cloud bank and a
vista of pure snow opened up before me. Where there was no snow,
there was rock. It jutted up from the blanketing frost, rude, thrusting,
certain of its destiny. The snow attempted to calm the rocks, it
seemed to me, soothe their passionate yearnings. And indeed one day
the snow would win entirely, submerging the once mighty precipices
below the all-encompassing sea. In their youth the mountains would
reign, the snow submissive, content to be mere icing, ornamental,
amongst the steep crags and cliffs. In old age the mountains would be
reduced to sloping, flabby hills, built upon by peasants, trod on by
munching cows. All would end as sand. The ocean would cover up the
remnants. Crabs and sea urchins would burrow in the residue, like
worms infesting a corpse.
But I was in the mountains now. Here vigor reigned still. A
wrong turn of our gliding airplane would dash me to pieces against
some cliff-face. Alive one moment, dead the next. Bristling winds
buffeted our craft as the pilot carefully nosed his way amidst the
enclosing crags toward our destination.
ÒOooh! Look! SantaÕs Village!Ó I cried out suddenly. I pointed at a
cluster of tiny dwellings down below. As our plane banked I saw more,
here and there, across the snow. They were mansions, I realized, as our
plane dropped down. Toy mansions now, to my view, not just dots. And
then vehicles began to appear.
The snow came down around us in soft bits of flurries. We
descended as if into one of those round glass bubbles you see in stores,
shake them and see Frosty get his head coated with drifting flakes.
Down the plane slipped, circling, the buildings became more visible as
we flew lower. Different shapes, sizes, different types of
construction.
We bumped down on the runway. The plane taxied a bit, then
stopped.
ÒTime to get out,Ó Kimberly grinned at me. I collected my purse,
my teddy bear. The co-pilot came back and opened the door for us,
tipped his hat to us as we stepped out.
It was cold! I drew my fur coat close about me. Unsteady in my
boots after sitting on the plane, I clambered down the gangway steps.
A sleigh awaited us. Big horses, shaggy hoofed, with the
enclosing sleigh to protect us from the whistling, icy winds. I was
helped up into the sleigh by a uniformed footman. As I sat down on the
sleighÕs leather bench I felt my skirt, inside my fur coat, slip up to
reveal my pantied ass. Were it not for my coat, I would have been
sitting on the leather, and it was moist with fallen snow. My skirt was
short, miniscule, daring in its sexiness to the point of being obscene.
Kimber had insisted that I wear it, as a sexy treat for myself, feeling
my vulnerability even as I sat encumbered in the bulkiness of my fur
wrap. I was ambivalent. Sure, it was sexy to wear the skirt, but what
about when I took my coat off? KimberÕs dress was just as short. We
were twin Òcherry-bombs,Ó she said, and the general had better watch
out if we went off in his mansion. Well, I was cherry, that was for
sure. Kimber just looked cherry, passing for seventeen, perhaps, if you
didnÕt know her age. She liked toying with menÕs minds, telling men she
was too young for them, when in fact I suspected that she was vastly
more experienced than most of the men in Buenos Aires, all put
together. She exuded sexuality. Her walk, the casual toss of her head
as she explained some finer sexual point to me, the swell of her
bosoms, taunting in their bigness, bursting forth from her waif-like
figure.
Snowflakes drifted down onto my nose. I stuck out my tongue, let
one settle on it, savored the taste. Well, it tasted like water, but
clean, fresh water. Icewater, for a girl from a hot city. Our horses
stamped the snow, waiting for the whip to crack. They exhaled into the
morning air. They were impatient. They wanted to be made to run, to
feel their limbs working, to know that they were alive. Wiggling in my
fur coat, my tummy a little queasy, uncertain, I wanted to feel alive
too. KimberÕs party had awakened me. I felt a newfound need for men,
not just a curiosity about them. My womb felt delicately empty, like a
child feels when she wants something, but isnÕt sure, will asking for
one thing necessitate dropping another? I used to pore over my
Christmas list, making sure I didnÕt ask for one item to the omission of
something else. I wanted the best present, not one almost as good. And
I couldnÕt ask for something so expensive that it would wipe out three
or four other things that I desired. Decisions, decisions. I used to love
the days before Christmas, in a silly sort of way, worried that I might
not be good enough, counting up my hoped-for booty, selecting this,
deleting that. I think sometimes the fun was in the choices, weighing
them. In my mind suddenly I saw a lewd picture of myself weighing
menÕs balls. This sac has more in it, but his dick is not quite as big,
that one is heaviest of all, but he is so thick, can I get him inside
without splitting myself apart?
Kimber turned to me. There was a sly look in her face. Debbi sat
between myself and Kimber. Debbi too seemed devilish, her eyes lively.
ÒOpen your coat a little, Barbi,Ó Kimber told me. I watched, obeyed, as
she and Barbi each slipped a hand within their coats. To my surprise
they began fingering themselves upon their spots, upon their cunnies,
rubbing their undies, not touching themselves directly but massaging
the fabric of their teensy panties. Right where it counted. Debbi let
out a soft moan, Kimber emitted a similar sound into the snow-falling
air. The footman, now our driver, turned himself briefly about, saw the
spectacle, showed no emotion. He was the only one in the sleigh, save
ourselves. Directly he brought his whip down upon the horsesÕ rumps
and set them off. We bounced upon the sleighbench as the vehicle
lurched forward.
I stuck my hand in my coat, Kimber glowering at me, lest I should
not participate in her game. Okay, I would play along, at least a little.
How often did a girl get to take a sleigh ride to a mysterious mansion
where a powerful man lay in wait for her? I touched myself. I rubbed,
little whisper-rubs, trying not to arouse myself. Ah, I felt it then, in
my rising excitement, my anxiousness. A moistening. A soft wettening
in the crotch of my panties.
With rising gasps of pleasure we crossed the snow. Behind us the
sleigh tracks defaced the freshly laid powder, ahead all was still
virgin, gentle hills and slopes, broken only by the sky-pointing thrust of
evergreens.
A bit later we arrived. It was a large house, old-looking, made
with heavy lumber. Much of the surrounding forest had been cut down
to build the mansions here, over the years. Now the whole place was a
kind of private ski resort. The remaining trees were preserved for the
pleasure they gave. They did not have to bear offspring any more to
make houses for men. A chalet, when built, used imported lumber. But
few new chalets were built now, Kimber had said, talking of our
destination as we rode on the plane. Only the wealthy could afford to
stay here now. The mansions were widely spaced, with acres of fresh
snow between them, to give privacy. Inside, perhaps, things were more
liberal, on the outside all was proper, with strict zoning and high taxes
to keep out less fortunate residents.
The footman helped me down. My gloved hand in his. I stepped
onto the snow. It crunched under my feet. He herded Kimber, Debbi, and
I forward. I wondered if he saw that my hips swayed more when I
walked now. My steps were pleasantly awkward. To the door he took
us, trembling with need, inspired by our fingers, unfinished yet, for
Kimberly wanted us only to tease ourselves, our host.
The door to the generalÕs chalet was huge. Perhaps it betokened
other sizes. Quickly we were let in. A woman let us in, smiling. She
had blazing red hair, as if her head were aflame, and seeing that it was
natural, I wondered about her thatch below. The general himself
stepped out to greet us, coming at us from a kind of vestry, off to the
side, surprising us. My face was flushed as I greeted him. Graciously
he took my coat himself, as the redhead relieved Kimber and Debbi. He
wore his uniform, with all his shiny medals, as if he would look less
virile in other attire. I smiled slightly. He smiled back, but with a
predatorÕs gleam in his eyes. I was in his home, his guest, after all. I
had come. (Well, almost.) Suddenly I realized that my short skirt was
rucked up around my waist, my fanny showing in back, the skirt too high
in front to block his view of my moist panties. Grabbing my skirt by its
hem I pulled it down, flushed more deeply.
ÒIt is warm in Buenos Aires?Ó he asked me, eyeing my thighs, a
little above.
ÒYes,Ó I breathed. He knew damn well I had not dressed this way
because of the heat. My dress was too short, I could not bend without
showing off my undies. Yet he was courteous enough to pretend. I liked
that. Pretending was still my main game in life, dreaming and
pretending. I admired him for not embarrassing me. I turned, saw
Kimber and Debbi had got their skirts down.
ÒYou will enjoy yourself here,Ó the general said to me, gazing at
me intently. His words had the air of a command. I nodded. I wanted to
stick my tongue out at him, I donÕt know why. But I nodded politely, and
liked him then, though I felt determined to remain true to my hymen for
as long as I wished. I would lose it on my terms. Yes. On my terms and
no other, weighing the menÕs testicles in advance, cutting off the hopes
of one male only to advance those of another.
ÒThere is a bedroom waiting,Ó the general said. He spoke to me.
When I did not respond he glanced over my head to Kimberly.
ÒThe girls need exercise after sitting so long,Ó Kimberly said in
reply.
ÒOh, not me!Ó I piped up suddenly. I was recalcitrant, despite my
busy finger in the sleigh.
ÒVery well,Ó the general said. ÒThere is a room for you three
girls.Ó His emphasis on ÔgirlsÕ was derisory. ÒThe footman will show
you. I am busy with another new guest, freshly arrived, as you are.Ó He
turned his gaze to the redhead. There was wantonness in her eyes. ÒWe
should not have interrupted your introductions, my pet. Shall we
continue?Ó She exchanged smiles with him and he offered her his arm.
In a moment they were gone.
The footman, grave as ever, moved us ahead of him down a long
hall. Our high heels clicked on a parquet floor, the boards creaking
sometimes, as if many females had come this way before, perhaps
leaving heavier than they arrived, with swollen bellies. We went up a
staircase, our bottoms peeking out from under our skirts, showing the
footman the color of our panties. Down a corridor we went, and he let
us into a bedroom. It was well-appointed, with cushions and a big
four-poster canopied bed, a bureau, and a lockable jewelry box. The
footman closed the door behind us and was gone.
I lay my teddy bear on top of the bureau, next to the jewelry box.
There was a pitcher of steaming coffee there. Debbi poured a cup for
herself, looking slightly melancholy. Kimber fluffed a pillow on the
bed. She dropped onto the bed and spread her legs. Her skirt was up,
showing her panties. Kimber raised her arms, put them behind her head.
She eyed me. I loitered by the jewelry box, checking out all its little
compartments.
ÒYou are a little devil,Ó Kimberly said to me.
ÒI did not want to, thatÕs all,Ó I replied.
ÒI wonder if heÕs fucking her now?Ó Debbi asked aloud. She
smiled at me. ÒIn and out, in and out,Ó she teased.
ÒOh, stop it!Ó I cried. I had never been fucked and she knew it.
She wanted to play with my mind and humiliate me over it.
ÒPerhaps we should have invited the footman to stay,Ó Kimber
mused. Her eyes were dreamy.
ÒI donÕt want a foot man, I want a man whoÕs interested in me
right there,Ó Debbi said. She pointed to the place where little girls
fear being poked.
ÒYes, right there!Ó Kimber laughed. She drew up her legs, showing
off her pantied cunt, letting her knees fall wide apart.
ÒOh, you two need a lecture from Bill Bennett!Ó I cried. With that
I ran into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door.
Within the bathroom, I moped. There must have been another
bathroom beyond the far wall, for I could hear water, laughter. We
three were not alone in our journey to the generalÕs. There were
others, many others, I guessed, for the house was huge and I had heard
sounds of distant parties as the footman led us upstairs to our
bedroom. I filled the tub and sprinkled in bubbles. I would be pure, I
would be Venus, enshrouded in the bubbles, a seashell over my pussy to
protect my purity. Cherubs would attend to me. I would stay in the tub
always, ordering room service, ducking below the bubbles when it was
delivered so the footman could not see me. I would nibble quietly, a
mouse. A mouse in a big house. And I would never, ever Ôparty naked.Õ I
was a reformed girl now, a good girl. Let the others have their fun. I
would be the mansionÕs attending nun, looking after their holiness.
They could consult me when the mood of penitence overtook them, when
they were bubbling-over with sperm and wondering whose child they
might have become impregnated with. Alas, the white-foam bubbles
looked like sperm to me suddenly. Naked, my clothes gone, I leapt in
among them. I could not resist. I found my finger busy once again, my
lips soon gasped. Somewhere in the distance, in the bedroom, I heard
twin female voices moan out an accompanying hymn. Kimber and Debbi
were exploring the comforts of the bed together, making a wet spot
together on the sheets, perhaps so the footman would have to come and
change them. I rubbed myself more energetically. I was getting my
exercise after all, as were they, though we all were as relaxed as could
be. Dissolute, recumbent, not busy with our legs, not running, but with
our naughty fingers only, skillfully touching. We had succumbed. I had
succumbed. I knew I could not last much longer, a day perhaps, maybe
two. Then I would have to give in completely. But would I surrender, or
position myself so that someone else would force my surrender? That
was the only question that remained, and it made me gulp hard,
realizing it.
30
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