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Visit the site no one wants you to see: http://www.nambla.de
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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
TORRID TWEENS
Chapter One
ÒWhat is it?Ó he asked himself, Òthat makes me able to know how
pretty a girl is simply by looking at the back of her head?Ó He gazed at
the brunette in front of him. She was ahead of him in the mall, walking
with a girlfriend. While the girlfriend was unremarkable, the girl herself
had several delightful qualities: long hair that hung down past her waist.
Narrow 14-year-old hips. Long legs, that seemed to stretch as far as the
eye could see. Yet she was shorter than himself, owing to her compact
midriff. He liked those sorts of girls best. He called them ÒBarbie girlsÓ
because, like the doll, they had a compressed midriff and long, long legs...
meaning they met the male standard of beauty without being too tall.
Indeed she was at best 5Õ 4Ó, perhaps shorter than that, well under his
rather imposing 6Õ 2Ó.
She turned. He averted his eyes, so as not to be seen watching her if
she turned completely around. Then, as he focused on some younger girl
standing at a candy stall, he saw the 14-year-oldÕs breasts in profile. He
gasped. The girl, though undoubtedly no older than 14, had enormous
bosoms. They made her look top-heavy, they were so wonderfully large,
yet directly below them she had one of the most slender midriffs heÕd ever
seen on a girl. Under her tight shirt he could even see the outline of her
ribs, she was so thin. Above her breasts her pretty face now focussed, as
he was doing, on the candy stall. She went over to it. He got in line behind
her. She ordered a lollipop, when her turn came, taking a long moment to
inspect the several varieties on offer behind the glass. When she turned
around, he was waiting for her.
ÒExcuse me,Ó he said. ÒAre you a model?Ó She looked surprised.
Gazing up at him she replied that she wasnÕt. She looked disappointed but
in fact it was the answer he was hoping for. He had always found
professional models, of whatever age, to be spoiled by a worldliness that
ruined the wondrous innocence that he hoped to capture. ÒWell IÕm a
photographer,Ó he told her, and produced a business card to verify it. She
accepted his card. He fished in his back pocket for a pen and paper.
ÒWhatÕs your name?Ó he asked her, as she and her friend gawked at his
card. She beamed up at him.
ÒBrittney,Ó she told him. ÒBrittney Wells.Ó
It was his turn to look surprised. She had just given him her last
name. That was rare on a first encounter. Hastily he wrote down her
name on his paper and he asked for her phone number. His was printed on
his card, and, seeing it, she felt comfortable giving her own. She gave him
what was obviously, owing to the area code attached to it, her private cell
phone number. He nodded approvingly. He would be able to avoid her
parents for awhile, with that, while getting to know her better.
ÒBrittney Wells,Ó he said to himself, reading his paper, and
inspecting her phone number, half-wondering if it was phony, a gag she
might be playing on him. An ironic side of his conscience added, as he
looked at her name, ÒAnd as deep as a well when I get through with you.Ó
For there was no question that she was a virgin. Her youth, her innocence,
her (yes, it was true) gullibility, all pointed to a girl as-yet unsullied by
the world. He gazed again at her. His eyes fell spontaneously to her
breasts, despite a conscious effort not to look at them. She noticed, she
giggled. Her friend gave an embarrassed laugh, having only a moderately-
sized chest. Absently he handed his card to her friend, so as not to leave
her feeling ignored. Happily she took it, but he hardly noticed. With some
effort he lifted his eyes from the brunetteÕs breasts to her face.
ÒWhen can we meet?Ó he asked her. ÒTo do a little photography,Ó he
added hastily.
ÒTonight,Ó she answered. Her response left him somewhat visibly
flabbergasted. Usually a girlÕs response was vague, childish even, but this
girl seemed as excited at the prospect of being photographed by him as he
was of getting a camera on her. As he listened to her say the single word
he wondered if there might be something more underlying it. He didnÕt
want to stop with just pictures, of course. He wanted her in bed, and he
wondered if she wished for the same thing. He was, after all, good-
looking. And he was not too old, at least in his opinion, being only just 40,
and looking at least half a decade younger.
ÒTonight,Ó he repeated. He would have to cancel his date with the
30-something botanist woman. But this girl was a treasure, not some
divorcee with a kid. ÒOkay,Ó he said, and immediately resolved in his mind
to do his very best by her, whatever his secret motives might be. If she
wanted to be photographed, he would do a bang-up job of it, using his best
equipment and film. ÒWhere can I pick you up?Ó he asked.
The girl hesitated. She looked at her friend. They both felt wary of
the phrase. He wished he had expressed it using different words. But then
she turned to him and, beaming again, beginning to unwrap the lollipop
sheÕd bought, she said, ÒRight here.Ó
ÒHere?Ó he asked. He pointed to the ground. She nodded. He
wondered if she were leading him on. It would not be the first time. He
would show up and wait, and she would never appear, laughing in her
bedroom perhaps, that sheÕd made some man stand in front of a candy stall
for an hour. Or perhaps he would find himself waiting for the girlÕs
father, and a policeman. They would rough him up and perhaps arrest him.
But it was a chance worth taking. ÒOkay,Ó he said ÒWhat time?.Ó
ÒEight oÕclock,Ó she answered. She smiled and edged past him. A
moment later he found himself staring at her back again, her friend
walking beside her, the two of them opening up their candies and beginning
to eat them, as apparently oblivious of him as if theyÕd never met him.
And then it happened: as he watched her, as some woman behind him,
behind the glass of the stall, asked him repeatedly what candy he wished
to buy, he saw her hips move. They had always been moving, of course, as
she walked, but now they suddenly took on an exaggerated wiggle. It was
the walk of a girl half-remembering some instruction on how to show off
her bottom, walking, and she did it badly, swinging her hips awkwardly.
He gasped. She was delightful, in her innocence, with her narrow hips and
uprearing sassy childÕs behind. Although he could no longer see her front,
owing to her long spreading hair that swayed now in a broad fan across her
back, he could imagine her tits, wobbling with extra vigor as she wiggled
her ass.
ÒSir, which sort of candy do you want?Ó the pesky woman behind the
counter asked him. Realizing he was becoming the center of attention of
several customers who were waiting to buy, he turned abruptly toward
her.
ÒUh, thanks, IÕve already gotten mine,Ó he said. Someone giggled.
The woman looked at him curiously. Of course he had bought nothing, but
he had indeed found a piece of candy worth more than anything the woman
could sell him. The girl, who had now disappeared into the crowd, had
apparently given him her actual phone number. He inspected his piece of
paper again. Yes, the number looked real, he told himself, as he edged
away from the candy stand.
He did not call her beforehand. He feared it would make him look
over-eager. She had said to wait, and he determined that that was the
best way to renew her acquaintance. He thought of the many girls heÕd
tried meeting over the years, and how few, despite his professional skills,
had taken him up on his offer. The ones whoÕd said ÔyesÕ had, of course,
proven delightful, but there were so many who hadnÕt! Glorious, lovely
girls, who were now no longer girls, owing to the passage of time since
heÕd seen them and asked them. He thought of the girl, about 14-years-
old, who heÕd seen near the outdoor fountain downtown. She had been
fresh from a nearby waterpark, wearing her swimsuit under her too-short
shorts. He had marvelled at her tan line, which ended at the tops of her
thighs, leaving a small space of white flesh between it and the start of
her fringed cut-offs. He had been able to see the base of her ass, the
lovely beginning of its outcurving swell. He had, of course, asked her,
unable to resist. She had taken his card but had only told him her first
name. He never saw her again, and now she was... what? Twenty, he
guessed. Much older than the sorts of girls he liked. And then there was
the 9-year-old heÕd known when he himself had been 20. She had been
delicious, with new budding breasts and slender hips and long legs. The
prettiest 9-year-old heÕd ever met, and she used to come over to his house
and play his video games. Now she was, what? Twenty-nine. Almost as
old as the botanist heÕd been half-heartedly dating, and then only because
she had a lovely 5-year-old daughter.
He found a table in the mallÕs eating court, which spread out just
beyond the candy stand. Amidst its collection of people eating candy, and
hot dogs, and tacos, he waited. He gazed around. He did not want to miss
her, but he didnÕt want to look stupid standing in front of the candy stand
either, especially since the same woman was still working there, and
might pester him again, asking him what he was doing standing in front of
her stand, if he didnÕt want to buy anything. So he sat in view of the
stand, next to a stand selling hot dogs.
Eight oÕclock came. It passed. He was still gazing across the court,
ten minutes later, and assuming he had been tricked, when suddenly he
saw her. He first became aware of her hair, her head bobbing with her
face unseen in the crowd moving toward him. Then as she got closer the
bodies in the crowd meandered apart, some people going to the candy
stand, others moving past it toward the stand selling hot dogs, still
others heading for the tacos. He saw her pretty face, she did not see him.
He held his breath in surprise as he saw what she was wearing. It was a
summer outfit, a midriff blouse knotted above her navel to show off her
slender belly, too short shorts beneath, like the girl heÕd seen so many
years before at the fountain. Hastily he got up from the table where heÕd
been sitting. He crossed the court toward her. To his delight he saw that
she did not appear to have anyone with her. Her unremarkable friend had
been left behind.
ÒHello!Ó he said, hoving into her field of view. She saw him. A smile
crossed her face. ÒAre you ready to do some modelling?Ó he asked her.
ÒYes!Ó she answered enthusiastically. He feigned concern for her
absent friend. ÒYour companion, she could not make it?Ó he asked.
ÒNo. She had to do her homework. SheÕs in summer school,Ó the
brunette answered.
ÒOh,Ó he said. He was going to give a sad look but the brunette
seemed as unconcerned as he was that her friend hadnÕt made it. He
swivelled around to walk with her and, moving along with the flow of the
crowd advancing into the food court, he asked her if she wanted something
to eat.
ÒGosh no, not if IÕm going to be a model,Ó she said. ÒI have to watch
my figure,Ó she told him with a mischievous grin.
ÒYes. Right!Ó he agreed, though really it would not have mattered if
sheÕd gotten something to eat. She was too young, and too rapidly
growing, for it to matter what she ate. He had his camera bag with him
and he lifted it with a meaningful look at her. ÒShall we try a few
photos?Ó he asked her.
ÒRight here?Ó she answered. She looked suddenly shocked, shy. He
realized heÕd made a misstep, concerning himself with the camera, in a
businesslike sort of way, when in fact perhaps she was as interested in
being with him as in being photographed.
ÒUh no,Ó he said. ÒBut weÕll have to think of someplace. In the
meantime are you sure you donÕt want something to eat?Ó She looked
around the food court. He wondered if sheÕd had dinner as her hand passed
over her belly. In fact she had spent the last two hours getting ready for
him, showering, doing her hair, selecting and then rejecting all sorts of
clothes.
ÒI guess I could have a corn dog,Ó she said, and giggled a little as she
said the word ÒdogÓ. He laughed with her. The size and shape of the corn
dog was not lost on him, and not, apparently, on her either. A few minutes
later he found himself sitting at the same table heÕd sat at before, but
with her sitting across from him, both of them eating corn dogs. Her eyes
gleamed at him mischievously as she bit into the penis-sized dog. He
loved her innocent wickedness as he laughed and bit into his own dog. Was
she fantasizing that he might be gay, as he bit into the dong-shaped
object? He tried to assure her with his eyes that he wasnÕt. And to
reinforce that fact his eyes, half-willingly and half-unwillingly, fell to
her tits again. She saw his happy stare and sat up straighter, showing her
chest off to him, letting him absorb her mammarian beauty.
ÒDo you think IÕm well proportioned?Ó she asked him. With
difficulty he returned his eyes to her face,which was wonderful to look at,
but not as delicious as her rare-sized tits.
ÒYes. Of course,Ó he answered.
ÒIÕve heard models should not have big ones,Ó she told him, half-
confidentially.
ÒNo... theyÕre fine,Ó he said. He searched his mind for a way to
express his thoughts to her without being overly frank. ÒI am not in
agreement with most fashion photographers,Ó he told her. ÒTheyÕre only
concerned with how a designerÕs clothes look on a girl. The thinking is, if
the girl is, uh, flat-chested, it will show off the clothing best.Ó A sad
look crossed her face. ÒBut that is so commercial,Ó he added. ÒI care
about beauty, real female beauty, not how some manÕs clothes will
supposedly look. I photograph perfection.Ó Her face brightened.
ÒYou think IÕm perfect?Ó she asked him.
ÒYes,Ó he nodded. ÒOtherwise I wouldnÕt have asked you.Ó
ÒWhat about my friend? Is she perfect too?Ó she asked him.
ÒDamn!Ó he swore to himself. Touche. She had gotten him, as the
brightest girls always seemed to do, no matter how young they were.
ÒI, um, was being diplomatic,Ó he told her truthfully.
ÒOh,Ó she answered. Her thoughts refocussed on herself. ÒIÕve
always been told IÕm pretty,Ó she confessed. ÒBut IÕve never been asked to
be a model!Ó
ÒWell, we can do plenty of that,Ó he assured her, wishing somehow
that the subject of modelling hadnÕt come up again. He wanted her, for
herself. It would be interesting photographing her but it would be more
fun just to have her company, her presence, and perhaps, ultimately, her
presence in his bed.
They finished their corn dogs. He asked her if she wanted to go see a
movie. She wrong-footed him again, saying that she thought they were
meeting so she could be photographed. Reluctantly he agreed that
photography was the thing, putting his plans to date her on a back burner.
ÒWe must find a location,Ó he said. He reached out an took her hand.
To his delight, she did not resist his grip. Her hand clasped his own and
they walked together out of the food court. They stopped by a clothing
store so she could use the bathroom. He waited, when she came out she
had apparently spent a moment brushing her hair. It looked more lustrous
than ever, and she smiled at her. Their hands re-joined. Together they
walked from the mall. Out in the parking lot they got in his car, a
corvette, and she marvelled at its make and color, its bucket seats, asking
if she could turn on the radio. He agreed. To his embarrassment the
ÒoldiesÓ channel was what came on. She glanced at him half-curiously and
asked him if she could change the channel. He said Òyes,Ó she changed it
to some station heÕd never heard before, playing music that was foreign to
his ears. She began to sway in her seat, in time to the music. He was
aware of the way her tits rolled on her chest, in concert with her
movements. He asked her where she thought they might find a suitable
location for their photography.
ÒOh, anywhere,Ó she answered, absorbed in the music.
ÒDown by the sea might be nice. I have some lights with me. We
could do a few shots on the sand,Ó he told her.
ÒYes,Ó she agreed. She had a little purse with her and she opened it
and dug in it, still moving with the music. ÒYou want some gum?Ó she
asked him.
ÒOkay. Sure,Ó he answered. He had bought her the corn dog so he
didnÕt feel guilty taking it. She handed him not a stick, as he was
expecting, but a wrapped square. ÒBubbilicious,Ó was printed on the paper
wrapping.
ÒItÕs Kiwi Strawberry!Ó she told him.
ÒOh,Ó he answered, fumbling to open it with one hand as he drove.
She took it gently back from him, opened it for him. Then she did a
wonderful thing, that made his dick stand up in his pants. She leaned
across the stick-shift console separating them, and told him to open his
mouth. He did. She popped the unwrapped gum in his mouth. She lost her
balance just as she got the gum in his mouth and her hand, inadvertently,
fell into his lap. She felt his sudden hard-on. She gasped. He was a good
size and as her hand clung to him, letting her regain her balance, they both
shared an embarrassed laugh.
ÒI donÕt think we should go to the beach,Ó she told him, as he became
aware, in the half-light of his car, of her nipples sprouting on her chest.
ÒOh?Ó he answered.
ÒWe would have more freedom at your place, donÕt you think?Ó she
asked him. Still holding on to his dick, which was rather unnecessary
now, since she was no longer toppling forward, she said, ÒIÕd been meaning
to ask you, do you have a studio?Ó
ÒAt my apartment,Ó he answered.
ÒWell letÕs go there, then!Ó she told him brightly. Her hand left his
cock-lump, moved across his trousered, muscular thigh. Stroking him,
feeling him, he thought, and liking what she felt, which made his penis
even harder.
ÒYes, letÕs,Ó he agreed. Her hand left him and she sat upright in her
seat again. Her nipples were visible as peaks at the tips of her sumptuous
breasts.
ÒYou were silly to suggest the beach,Ó she told him. She blew a
bubble with her gum and it popped loudly in the car. Over the music, and
the sound of her gum, he answered,
ÒYes.Ó
ÒI want to do lingerie modelling,Ó she told him frankly. ÒDo you
think IÕm too young to do lingerie modelling?Ó
ÒNo,Ó he said. He looked at her. His eyes gazed at her breasts and he
said, ÒI would love to see how you look in lingerie.Ó She was aware of
where he was looking and she thrust out her chest, her own eyes glancing
down at his groin.
ÒDo you have any S and M lingerie?Ó she asked him. He coughed. For
a virgin, she had strange desires.
ÒYes. I do. Though perhaps not in your size,Ó he said. She looked
down at her tits.
ÒToo big or too small?Ó she asked him. He coughed again.
ÒToo big for the hips, and too small for your chest,Ó he said.
ÒThen letÕs stop and buy something!Ó she said brightly.
ÒWe canÕt. YouÕre only 14,Ó he told her.
ÒI could put on extra makeup,Ó she suggested. He shook his head.
Why did 14-year-old girls always think they could look older by wearing
extra makeup? If anything, it made them look younger, like little girls
playing grown-up. ÒAnyway, IÕm 13, not 14,Ó she added. His breath caught
in his throat.
ÒThirteen?Ó he asked her.
ÒYes,Ó she said. ÒBut because of my breasts guys think IÕm older,Ó
she added.
ÒUh-huh,Ó he agreed. ÒLetÕs see if we can modify what I have in my
apartment,Ó he told her.
ÒOkay,Ó she said.
And they managed it, with his cock visible in his pants, she tying
two links of a pair of chain panties together, to make them small enough
to fit her hips. A bra they expanded by using a shoe string to tie the two
pieces of the clasp, at the back of the bra. When they were finished,
adjusting the bikini over her own clothes, she told him she wanted to try
on the things without her blouse and shorts. He suggested she step into
the bathroom to change. She did, taking her purse with her, so she could
refine her makeup. As he waited, in his living room, he adjusted the lights
heÕd set up to photograph her with. She reappeared, and he felt his breath
leave him.
She looked smashing, a young girl outfitted in the most bizarre and
revealing attire. She wore a chain-mesh bra, her nipples visible beneath
it, the tips of her breasts actually poking through the little links that
sheathed her tits. Her belly was bare, as were her legs. Low on her waist
she wore the chain-link panties. They were g-string shaped, with only a
cold single length of chain crossing beneath her cunt. In fact the panties
were sufficiently tight on her that the chain gusset actually was wedged
in her cunt lips. She gave a little gasp as she advanced toward him,
obviously bothered by the chain, which was rubbing against her spot.
ÒOooh! What do you think?Ó she asked him.
ÒYouÕre delicious,Ó he told her. She had chain gauntlets on her
wrists. They were a little big for her slender arms and slipped, as she
walked, down her forearms to her wrists. She tugged at them, trying to
restore their length, at the same time oohing and ahhing over the way the
chain panties were rubbing her between her creamy thighs. Her nipples
stood up more stiffly on her chest as she walked toward him, noting the
lump in his own groin, which had now reached painful proportions. Her
feet were bare. He wondered aloud if he could take her to a shoe store and
buy her a pair of boots to go with her sexy new outfit.
ÒNo, that would take too long,Ó she answered, walking on tip-toe, to
heighten her already long legs, her hips waggling exaggeratedly, as heÕd
seen her do at the mall. In her hand she held a little whip heÕd given her to
go with her outfit. Letting go of her bothersome gauntlet, which fell again
to her wrist, she snapped the whip in the air. SheÕd done it before,
laughing with him as they adjusted the bikini on her still clothed hips.
But now the gesture had more meaning, owing to her frank nudity, her
naked upstanding nipples, her chafed cunt that was being rubbed by her
chain-link panties. She blinked as she snapped the whip. He gasped. They
gazed at each other but this time they did not laugh. ÒI think I need this,Ó
she told him. ÒI feel naughty wearing a chain bikini.Ó
ÒYou look fine,Ó he told her.
ÒNo, I need a good whipping,Ó she answered. She turned around. She
gave the whip another snap, at the same time showing her bottom to him.
He gasped at its beauty. She had splendid narrow hips, with uprearing
cheeks. She wiggled herself, he watched in amazement at her bare bottom
tightening on the chain that ran up between her hinds.
ÒDo you really think you need a good whipping?Ó he asked her,
forgetting the camera, and the lights which shone sun-like in the room,
giving it an odd glare. He advanced on her. His hands took hold of her slim
childish shoulders, which felt bony under her spreading long hair. She
snapped the whip again, experimentally, tentatively, yet with a certain
rough-and-ready abandon.
ÒYes, I do,Ó she told him. She looked up at him, feeling the weight of
his hands on her shoulders, conscious of the way he was peering over her,
looking down at her breasts as his cock-lump bumped her back. She
flinched, but she maintained her resolution. ÒMy friend has a video,Ó she
told him. ÒThe Story of O.Ó
ÒYes, IÕve heard of it,Ó he confessed.
ÒI want to be like O,Ó she said. He heard himself gulp. He realized
heÕd just swallowed the gum sheÕd given him. She no longer had her own
gum in her mouth, having taken it out in the bathroom.
ÒYou really want to be whipped?Ó he asked her. He thought of the
chain rubbing her virgin cunt and he wondered if this suddenly worldly girl
were as innocent as heÕd assumed.
ÒYes. Hard,Ó she told him. He rubbed her shoulders. Her long hair
felt like silk, her skin underneath like satin.
ÒNo, I would not do it hard,Ó he told her, his heart racing, his cock
stretching his pants and bumping her back again. She flinched again, but
handed him the whip. He took it.
ÒYou must do it hard,Ó she said to him. She turned and faced him. He
held the whip in his hands, staring candidly at her tits, at her pretty face
above her tits gazing up at him.
ÒHave you... been whipped before?Ó he asked her, wonder in his voice.
ÒNo,Ó she said. ÒBut I want to be whipped hard.Ó
ÒI will... have to tie you if I whip you hard,Ó he said to her. She
offered him both her hands, lifting them to his chest, her gauntlets too big
for her childÕs forearms.
ÒYou may tie me,Ó she said to him in her girlish voice, and pressed
her palms to his chest, feeling his strength, his muscles tightening under
the pressure of her fingers.
ÒBut I donÕt want to tie you,Ó he said.
ÒNo, you must,Ó she insisted.
ÒThe neighbors would hear if I whipped you,Ó he told her.
ÒThen take me somewhere where you can do it,Ó she breathed to him,
enjoying the feel of his muscles, aware of his cock standing up in his
pants. She edged closer, putting her belly to his waist, feeling his lump
with her narrow childÕs stomach. He was aware of his manhood pressing
into her. He thought of her womb, somewhere beyond the flatness of her
belly. He longed to thrust himself up between her legs, spearing her virgin
hymen.
ÒWhere?Ó he asked her, breathlessly.
ÒSomeplace,Ó she told him, as clueless and yet aroused as he himself
was, her nipples pressing now to his shirted chest, as his pants with their
lump dug into her belly.
They kissed; she in her chain-link bra and panties, with the too big
gauntlets, he in his shirt and pants, still dressed as heÕd been dressed
when he met her in the evening at the mall. He did not remember
afterward how long they kissed, but it was a long time, he stooping down
to take her mouth with his own, she standing on tiptoes. When at last
their tongues untangled, when their breath no longer commingled with
every passionate sigh, he looked at her frankly.
ÒDo you really want to be whipped?Ó he asked her.
ÒYes,Ó she said, after a momentÕs hesitation. ÒYes I do,Ó she said.
he saw her innocence in the way she said it. To his relief he realized that
it was not some fetish, practised before, but some odd childlike fantasy,
that sheÕd caught while watching a forbidden video at her friendÕs house.
ÒI would have to find someplace to take you,Ó he said, stroking her
bare belly. She caught his hand with both her own. She lifted his hand to
her right tit. She placed it over her right nipple. He felt the teat,
protruding through her chain-mesh bra. She sighed, deep and heartfelt,
throwing her head back. His other hand, unbidden, snuck up her thighs and
lodged between her legs. She sighed again, her ribs rising and falling with
her breasts, her tits like large watermelons, rippling under his touch. ÒI
will find someplace,Ó he told her. With his finger he pressed the chain
between her legs more firmly, pressing it higher into her cunt, feeling the
lips of her sex as he violated her with it. ÒDo you want to go to bed?Ó he
asked her. She shook her head.
ÒI want to be like O,Ó she said.
Awkwardly he realized that she was not yet ready for sex. She had
some childish vision she wanted to fulfill, to be the heroine O, not to go to
bed with him. He felt his cock in his pants, straining. It would be hard for
him not to complete the act, now that his dick was brimming with sperm.
For a moment he considered raping her, scooping her up and taking her
forcibly to his bedroom. But as his hands stroked her, as he listened to
her girlish gasps, he discarded the idea. He must play along with her, if he
really wanted to have her. He could not simply take her. It was annoying,
but it was the price of dealing with young girls. They had to be reeled in
slowly, with respect for their youthful fantasies.
ÒIÕll-- IÕll find someplace,Ó he assured her. She rubbed herself some
more on his hands, moving her hips now, her tits joggling in her chain bra.
After awhile she came on his hand. They kissed again, and then again she
used his hands to find her pleasure. After an hour or so had passed, both
of them still standing in the glare of his floodlights, he quite painfully
unfulfilled but she having had at least three orgasms, she looked at him
and said,
ÒI should be going home now.Ó Again he considered raping her. It
was unfair, she using him like this, leading him on, giving him blue balls
while she had her virgin orgasms. But he, very reluctantly, nodded his
head in agreement. ÒMy parents will be home by midnight,Ó she said to
him. She glanced around the room. ÒWhat time is it?Ó she asked him.
ÒI donÕt know,Ó he told her. She wiggled out of his grip. She walked
from the living room into his kitchen. She found a clock there. ÒOmigod!
ItÕs 11:30!Ó she announced. As he came into the kitchen behind her she
was already beginning to untie her chain-link bra. To his breathless
amazement she stripped naked before him. But she did not have a tryst in
his bed in mind; she hurried past him, giving him back the bikini, and went
into the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged, wearing her clothes
again, her purse slung over her shoulder, looking, except for her flushed
cheeks, as pure and innocent as when heÕd met her at the mall.
ÒHow many other guys have you used like this?Ó he wanted to ask
her. But he repressed his budding anger. He let her take his hand and lead
him outside to his car. Was she aware of the awkwardness of his walk,
owing to the bulge still in his pants? If she was, she didnÕt let on about
it. In his car she opened another piece of gum, but this time, as he was
starting the car, and she handed him a piece, she did not unwrap it for him.
He opened it by himself and put it in his mouth as he pulled out of his
apartment buildingÕs driveway. To his relief, they beat her parents home.
He let her out of his car and she hurried into her house. Before she went in
her front door she paused and turned and blew him a kiss. He wanted to
honk his car horn in reply but feared it would arouse her neighbors. He
waved; he thought she did not see him waving from the darkness of his car.
The next day he waited for her to call him. But she didnÕt call, and
so he began wondering if he would ever see her again. He considered
calling her on her cell phone. Then he remembered what sheÕd said, that he
should find a place where he could whip her. He began to think of options.
What did he know about bondage? Not much. He had some S and M lingerie,
of course, but he had never met a girl before that he could get to wear it.
Always it had been clothed shots theyÕd done, or bikini shots, or in a few
instances nude shots, but the S and M lingerie that heÕd bought had
remained simply a sort of unexercised option, something he might mention
hopefully to a girl, but that she, bashfully, would shy away from. Now,
suddenly, he had met a girl who wanted to be O! But where was the castle
that he could take her to, where was the house of ill-repute, in some
luxurious unsuspecting neighborhood, where he could whip her? He was
only a modestly-paid photographer, he had no connections to wealthy
scions. And then suddenly he realized: she was his ticket! Her youth, her
beauty, and perhaps his beauty as well, being a muscular youngish man. He
would have to find some couple, or perhaps several couples, who would be
interested in her, or in him. It was all about flesh, wasnÕt it? It was not
money that really mattered, but oneÕs body, oneÕs willingness to
participate with others in things that were only rarely spoken of. He felt
a chill up his spine. Meeting others would mean sharing her. Sharing
himself. Did he really want to do that? He was only used to bedding the
occasional young girl, by himself, the two of them alone together. He had
never done anything in a group. But this virgin had some weird fantasy
about being O. He realized that if he wanted to take her, to fuck her with
her agreement, he would have to at least make a pretence of playing to her
desires. But where could he go? Where would there be a group of people
that he could feel comfortable sharing her with? After all, she was only
14. It might be possible to take an 18-year-old someplace, or perhaps a
21-year-old. But how did one say, to the group he was imagining joining,
ÒHi, IÕve got an underage virgin who wants to be O. She wants to be
whipped, I want to fuck her. Mind if we join you?Ó
He realized, as he walked along the beach the next day, that it was
the whole thing that appealed to her: the hooded robes, the stone
chambers, the enclasping chains. The whole movie, really. A simple whip,
applied to her ass, would not be enough. He would have to find someplace
authentic, and he would have to get started soon, before she wrote him off
as unable to fulfill her virgin wishes. He looked around. He spied a woman
walking up from the water. He noticed she was wearing a black bikini. It
appealed to him, a wicked color, especially in the heat of the day.
Thinking that it would be silly to approach her, he nonetheless moved
toward her. Her eyes caught his and at once her gaze fell meaningfully to
his trunks. He was still large and hard from yesterday. To his semi-
embarrassment, his dick showed, though his shirt, hanging down over it,
did a pretty good job of covering it. But the womanÕs eyes seemed to drill
into him, and as he drew closer to her he became excited at the realization
that she might want him for what his groin offered.
ÒHi,Ó he said to her awkwardly. Her own response was smooth
sophistication.
ÒHello,Ó she answered.
ÒYou look lovely in your bikini,Ó he told her.
ÒIt absorbs too much of the sun,Ó she said. ÒBut I like the color.Ó
ÒYes. Uh, I like it too,Ó he told her. He was aware of her nipples
rising under her thin bra. How old was she? He asked himself. Perhaps
25, he decided. She was lovely but under other circumstances he would
have considered her too old. He had a certain boyish fear of women,
despite his dates with the botanist. Frankly her eyes glided down his
chest to fix again on his groin, visibly making the lower edge of his shirt
rise. He gulped; he realized if the offer were made he would go to bed
with her. He was still full from yesterday. He needed to spend.
ÒAre you going to go into the water?Ó she asked him. She lifted her
hand. She brushed back her wet hair.
ÒYes,Ó he said, although heÕd only come down to the beach to think,
to try to figure where he could take his 13-year-old model-to-be, his
wanna-be O. ÒYes,Ó he said again. He pulled up his shirt. She marvelled at
his chest as he got his shirt off. He tossed his shirt in the sand. She took
his hand.
ÒLetÕs go!Ó she said, enthusiastically. He jogged down into the water
with her, and an hour later they were in bed.
Afterward, as they lay together in bed, she asked him if heÕd ever
been whipped.
ÒNo,Ó he said. He was lying on his back and suddenly, despite his
previous efforts, his dick stood up under the covers of her bed. She rolled
toward him.
ÒWould you like to be?Ó she asked him. Her hand stroked his neck.
He was aware of the sharpness of her fingernails on his throat.
ÒWhy am I suddenly running into women who are interested in
bondage?Ó he asked aloud, stiffening further, his neck growing stiff too as
her fingers closed across his thick muscular throat.
ÒOh? Who else has asked you?Ó she said to him. Her voice was
husky.
ÒA girl,Ó he answered. He looked at her. ÒSheÕs only 13,Ó he said.
ÒShe wants me to whip her, but my neighbors would hear if I did it in my
apartment,Ó he said. Her hand left his neck.
ÒOh,Ó she said. She rolled back away from him.
ÒIÕm... a photographer,Ó he told her. ÒI photograph girls.Ó He did not
ask her if she wanted to be a model. She was pretty like a model but she
was older, worldly and sophisticated. It was not the look he wanted to
capture.
ÒWell I whip men,Ó she said, and rolled toward him again. Her hand
gripped his neck. She kissed his cheek. He smelled her breath, perfumed,
not the bubblegum smell of the girl. ÒWould you like to be whipped?Ó she
asked him. His dick stood up straighter under the covers.
ÒNo,Ó he breathed.
ÒIt would help you to learn how to whip your little girlfriend,Ó she
said to him. He was aware of his erection and she was aware of it too. ÒI
think you want to be,Ó she said to him.
ÒNo,Ó he assured her.
But she was right and he was wrong, despite his better judgement.
In fifteen minutes he found himself bound to her bed, lying with difficulty
on his erection. She stood over him, in newly donned boots and black
gloves, embodying by her attire all his worst fears of women, that they
would dominate him, and somehow steal his manhood from him. She was
holding a whip and now she brought it down sharply and with
determination on his backside. He gasped. The sting was sharp. It made
him press harder into the bed and that made him put unwanted pressure on
his cock. Delightedly she gazed at him. He realized that she wanted to see
him embarrass himself by spending on her sheets. He groaned, realizing he
might well do it. She hit him again. He pushed, his bottomcheeks
contracting, down into the bed again, feeling it press softly and yet firmly
against his bloated penis. Once more she hit him. He worried that her
whip, falling on his behind, would lash down between his thighs and hit his
balls. The horrid thought, and the pressure on his dick became too much
for him. To his embarrassment, and her delight, he soiled the sheets under
him, spurting out his white seed.
ÒNow you have been truly bad,Ó she told him. Without his own desire
to dull his senses, he became more aware of the whip hitting his behind:
it was truly painful now, no longer a spur to his penis. She showed delight
at how his erection no longer distilled the pain of her whip. She struck
him again and again, her naked large tits wobbling to and fro with her
effort, rubbing herself on her finger, finally, jamming it up between her
thighs, cumming as she produced anguished howls from him. When it was
over, and he had been untied, she thanked him for his cooperation.
ÒI didnÕt mean to, really,Ó he assured her, rubbing his backside with
his hands as he lay on her sperm-soiled sheets.
ÒYou did wonderfully,Ó she told him. ÒAnd now that youÕve
performed for me, I will let you in on a little secret. I know a couple who
have orgies at their house. With whips, chains, everything your little
girlfriend apparently dreams about. They can be cruel but they can be
gentle too. IÕll ask them if they mind having a minor visit.Ó She smiled at
him. ÒYou would, of course, be asked to share your own body with us.Ó
ÒI donÕt think so,Ó he said. He got up from her bed. He was still
rubbing his ass. She grabbed him in front, by his penis.
ÒI insist,Ó she said. He looked at his dick, big in her slender hand but
held captive by it all the same. He felt himself begin to grow again. What
was it about this woman that made him keep having erections?
ÒGet back in the bed,Ó she told him.
ÒItÕs wet,Ó he protested.
ÒYou shouldnÕt have wet it,Ó she said.
ÒYou made me,Ó he told her.
But despite his objections he got into the bed again, and she got in
with him, and they had a rousing afternoon together, ending with evening
room service.
ÒReally, I want you both to come to our next party,Ó she told him, as
they lay in the still-wet bed, eating caviar.
ÒAlright,Ó he agreed.
ÒAnd you will be fucked, good and hard, by all the women present,
including me, of course,Ó she told him.
ÒI donÕt know if IÕd be up to it,Ó he said, uncomfortably aware of his
penis rising up yet again under the sheets.
ÒYouÕll be able to handle it. YouÕre very strong,Ó she told him.
When they parted later in the evening he was perplexingly hard
again, after yet another tryst in her bed. She kissed him goodnight, not
walking back down to the beach with him, leaving him to go alone, his cock
exhausted yet aroused and stiff. When he got back to his apartment he
found his answering machine blinking. It was the girl. He called her. She
asked him if they could meet again.
ÒYes. IÕve found someplace where we could do it,Ó he said to her.
ÒGoodie!Ó was her response. She told him she wanted to wear the
chain-link bikini again. He assured her that she could. ÒIÕve got to go. I
hear my mother coming upstairs,Ó she told him.
ÒMeet me this Saturday night at the mall,Ó he said to her. ÒSame
time, same place.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó she answered breathlessly. And then she hung up. And he
stood there, his phone in his hand, wondering how he could be so lucky to
meet both a young virgin who wanted a whip and a dominatrix both in the
same week. It was like something out of a novel.
30
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