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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WATERMELON MOON
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Chapter Two
Willette parked her car quietly along the curb of sardine row. She
checked her makeup once more in the rearview mirror and then stepped
out. She smoothed down the front of her blouse. She looked conservative,
almost like the lawyer she one day hoped to be. She wondered if the lonely
man would receive her.
As Willette walked toward the front door of the lonely man's
apartment the events of the previous week flashed through her mind. The
police had burst into the library within moments after the lonely man had
overcome the killer. Ambulance personnel had followed right on the cops'
heels. Willette had been carried off on a stretcher, and seen nothing more
of the lonely man. He had saved her life, yet she hadn't even been able to
thank him.
Willette rang the lonely man's doorbell. After a long wait the front
door finally opened. It was the lonely man. He was unshaven. His eyes
were sad.
"IÑI just want to thank you," Willette stammered.
"No need. Just doing my job. Get three of those a month," the lonely
man said. The crack in his doorway narrowed. The door was closing, and
Willette hadn't even been able to thank the man properly!
"No! Wait!" Willette cried. She put her hand to the door. Not on the
edge of the door, but in the middle, as if that held any promise whatsoever
of keeping the door from being closed. "I mean, IÑI don't want to bother
you, but, like, you did save my life!"
"That's what I get paid to do," the lonely man said. "Your tax dollars,
or you mother's and father's, pay me to do that." The crack in his doorway
narrowed further.
"CanÑcan I see you again?" Willette cried.
"Get taken hostage again," the lonely man said, and then the door
clicked shut.
Willette stood on the man's door mat. WELCOME was printed on it,
but his front door was closed. She fidgeted for a moment. Then Peter
opened the front door to his apartment.
"Willette! Didn't know you were here, c'mon in! The game is really
getting hot! Plenty of Bud too, even for a plebeian like you!" Her eyes cast
low, Willette stepped off the lonely man's doormat. Another Sunday
afternoon spent watching a stupid football game with the boys. No doubt
when this one ended, the networks would graciously serve up another, all
to keep otherwise virile males glued to the television until nightfall.
With slow, hesitant steps, Willette dragged herself into Peter and John's
apartment.
Willette seated herself on the edge of a ratty loveseat. The thing
wouldn't have brought two dollars at a garage sale, but Peter had made
John get out of it just so Willette could sit in it. Willette wondered what
the boys' living quarters would look like once they got to college.
Both boys had managed to get kicked out of their homes by their
parents, but a growing labor shortage had enabled them to get jobs that
paid them enough to live alone. Graduation was only a month away now,
anyway. Peter and John were both waiting for their letters of acceptance
from the state college, even as they considered military service. As
Willette scanned the detritus laden apartment, she thought military
service might prove the better option.
John let out a loud burp and threw his empty Budweiser can at a
basketball hoop mounted on the wall. The hoop had come with a Nerf ball,
but that had long since been lost and replaced by empty beer cans as the
preferred projectile.
"Miss!" Peter crowed, as John's beer can clanked against the wall and
fell to the worn carpeting on the floor.
Neither boy had complimented Willette on her attire. Did they just
expect her to always show up at their door dressed to kill? Now, as she
watched them sit in fascination before the television, she decided to have
some fun. She rose and smoothed her blouse. Her breasts stuck out nicely.
She put her hands on her hips and gave her blonde mane a toss.
"Dear, sweet boys, how could you possibly watch a football game
with your pants all zippered up like that?" Willette asked.
"Oh, what do you mean, Willette?" Peter asked, suddenly not quite so
captivated by the game. His hips shifted forward on his chair.
"What I mean," Willette said, walking over and kneeling before John,
"is that such big penises as you boys have shouldn't be forced to remain all
afternoon in such tight jeans." Neither boy had sported a bulge in his
pants when Willette first began addressing them, but now both quickly
developed one.
Willette kneeled before John. She looked him straight in the eye and
ran her pink little tongue across her upper lip. John stared back at her.
Peter looked across at John, not sure whether he should intervene. The
game, despite being in the final two minutes, was suddenly just so much
background noise. Willette unzipped John's fly.
"My, I know you're in here somewhere inside this underwear,"
Willette said in a seductive, whispery voice. Her polished nails pried open
the flap in the front of John's Jockeys. Her fingers lighted upon the
substantial head of his cock. She pulled it forth.
"Holy shit," Peter whistled as John's 9 inch cock came into view. It
extended in a long, easy arc, its veins bulging and throbbing. Willette
extended her tongue and lightly touched it to John's pee hole. Then she
wiped the tip of her tongue on the back of her hand, to get rid of any
microscopic residue that might be left over from John's urinating.
"Say Willette, you're my girlfriend," Peter whined.
"Don't worry," Willette smiled over John's erection. "You're next."
Then she began touching the tip of her tongue in quick, feathery strokes to
the underside of John's bulging cockhead.
"She's saving the best for last," Peter assured himself.
"Fine with me," John grunted, pushing his hips forward. He was
eager to get his entire cock into Willette's succulent mouth, but she held
him back. It was just like males to always want to dispense with the
exciting preliminaries and just squirt out their load!
Willette ran her tongue down John's rod in long strokes, then back up
again. John trembled. "You'll have to learn a bit of self control, John,"
Willette said between tongue strokes. "I'm not Lola. I expect you to make
my little tongue very happy before you spill."
With a loving look in her eyes Willette ran her lithe tongue along the
side of John's shaft. She would take her time with this boy, turn his
pleasure into torment. John's penis wiggled. "You can hold yourself back,
can't you?" Willette asked John.
"AÑa little bit," John stammered.
"Well, a little bit isn't good enough, John," Willette said. She licked
along the top of his shaft, then curled her tongue along the flange of his
head. "You must learn to give a woman's mouth pleasure, and then her
pussy too. Maybe even her asshole. All without spilling a drop of your
precious sperm."
"Willette!" Peter moaned. "I don't want you letting John up your
pussy before I get to fuck you!"
"Dear Peter, did you think I was speaking of today?" Willette asked.
"Why, that would surely interrupt too much football! I'm just giving you
boys a little suck today." She released John's rod from her grasp. "There,
John, I'm afraid that's about all you can stand." John looked at her with
wide, fearful eyes.
"FÑFucking finish the job, Willette!" John cried.
"Perhaps in a little while," Willette cooed. "My boyfriend needs me."
She rose and sashayed over to Peter, still looking as conservative as ever.
Peter thrust his hips forward in his chair. His zipper was already undone.
Willette thought he reminded her of a monkey at the zoo eager for a
banana.
Willette drew Peter's 9 1/2 incher from his pants. She flicked her
tongue over his peehole, just as before, then wiped her tongue on the back
of her other hand. Then, delicately, she ran her tongue around the flange of
Peter's rod. "I hope you let me lick you longer than John did," Willette
murmured.
"Uh, yeah, Willette," Peter grunted. He thrust his hips even farther
forward. John, meanwhile, had risen and was on the phone, frantically
trying to get hold of his girlfriend Lola.
"John? Is that you?" Willette heard a small voice pipe from the
telephone's receiver.
"Lola!" John cried.
"John, aren't you busy watching the game?" Lola asked.
"Uh, something's come up!" John said with a note of desperation in
his voice.
"Do you need me, Johnny?" Lola asked.
"Yes! Yes! Come right away!" John yelled. Willette sucked the entire
head of Peter's cock into her mouth. Peter, sensing an opportunity, tried
to force in even more of his shaft, but Willette bit down just hard enough
on the stem of his cock to prevent further movement.
John walked back over to his chair, his cock waggling lewdly with
his every step. It protruded from his pants like some thick leaf-shorn
beanstalk that had suddenly sprouted. Willette watched it out of the
corner of her eye. She popped Peter's cockhead from her mouth.
"Come here, John," Willette said. John hurried over to her, despite
the imminent arrival of his girlfriend.
"What do they say, 'Two heads are better than one?'" Willette asked,
taking John's cockhead twixt her little fingers even as she kept her other
hand firmly on Peter's rod. Willette opened her mouth wide and guided
both boys' cockheads towards her lips with encouraging little strokes of
her fingertips on the undersides of their penises. A moment later and her
eyes bulged as both big cockheads entered her at once. Willette's tongue
retreated to the back of her mouth, then tentatively came forward again to
lick each boy's peehole in turn. This time the licking was not for
cleanliness, but merely titillation. Both boys drove their cocks forward,
hoping to gain even greater depths inside Willette. With difficulty she
held them back, allowing only their cockheads to be inside her mouth.
Willette thought how strange the boys must feel, each having his
cockhead rub against the other. These were boys who wouldn't go within
ten miles of anything even remotely connected with homosexuality, yet
here they were, rubbing their dickies against each other. Willette
wondered whether if she cooked up a scheme that found one boy's cock up
the other's butthole if they wouldn't comply with that too.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Willette popped both boys' cocks from
her mouth. She took John's twixt her fingers and began stuffing it back
into his jeans as best she could. The doorbell rang again.
"Coming!" John cried, throwing back his head, and Willette found
herself praying that John's cry was intended to be interpreted in the
conventional manner.
"Now John,"Willette said, breathing a sigh of relief as no fountain of
semen splashed forth from his dick. "John, I don't want you to breathe a
word of this to Lola, you hear? If you do I'll never suck your little dick
again."
"MyÑmy dick is little?" John asked, mortified. Willette managed to
get him back inside his pants and yanked up his zipper. She patted his very
big bulge reassuringly. "No John, your dick is nice and big. Don't put a rip
in your pants, now."
"Uh, yeah," John mumbled, as the doorbell rang for what must have
been the tenth time. Then he stumbled away, heading for the front door.
"As for you and me, we should finish our business in more private
surroundings, don't you think?" Willette asked Peter, also forcing his dick
back into his pants.
"Yeah, sure, we can go upstairs," Peter agreed. Willette rose and let
Peter take her by the arm. As they turned to leave she picked up the
television's remote control. She aimed it at the T.V.
"What a game!" the television announcer was crying. "This is living
NFL football history!"
"We don't need to waste energy by leaving this on, do we?" Willette
asked Peter.
"Uh, no," Peter said, not even really seeming to be paying attention
to what Willette was saying, only thinking of his need to get her
someplace where she would feel comfortable enough to resume her
servicing of his rod.
A week later Willette had landed a brand new job as an airport
ticketing agent. It was only part time, due to her need to finish high
school, but Willette loved what work she could squeeze in between her
studies. She loved the smart airline uniform she wore too. And every man
who bought a ticket from her seemed to long to buy her instead.
Willette surveyed the line of people before her. As summer
approached more and more families were appearing. Willette smiled at
the young pubescent boys who nearly grabbed their crotches in delight
when they saw her. "Too bad, boys," Willette thought to herself. "You'll
have to grow your cocks a little more before you can get hold of me." Even
as Willette worked she continued to think of the lonely man. She almost
never saw him now. Apparently he didn't even empty his trash early in the
morning anymore. Willette had been trying to stake him out whenever she
stopped by Peter and John's, but the man was reclusive.
Willette cursed whoever it was who had invented computers. Time
was when every man rose at dawn to go out into the world and earn his
pay. Now more and more people, especially highly valued professionals
like the lonely man, worked at home. Going to work consisted of nothing
more than walking to your computer and dialing the office with your
modem. You didn't even have to put any clothes on.
Willette wrote her last ticket for the night and shut down her
terminal. She said goodnight to the girl next to her and slung her purse
over her shoulder. If she hurried she would get home just in time to do her
homework before Arsenio. Perhaps in another week or two she would be
able to buy her own VCR. Then she'd probably wind up with dozens of
unwatched VCR tapes, all loaded with unwatched Arsenio Hall programs.
At least then the entertainer wouldn't be competing with her homework.
As Willette walked across the airport parking lot she began to feel a
gnawing sense of fear. She felt as if someone was following her. Willette
walked faster. Suddenly a hand with a chloroform pad wrapped itself over
her face from behind. Willette struggled to break free, even as she felt
herself begin to pass out.
When Willette awoke she was bound between two posts. Each of her
wrists had been lifted as high as her head and spread wide. Cold chains
held them fast to thick wooden posts that looked sturdy enough to
withstand even the might of Samson. Willette breathed a sigh of relief as
she realized she still had her uniform on.
A man who looked to be of Arabian descent eyed Willette with
glinting eyes. His arms were crossed before him and he sported a goatee.
"Welcome to the New World Order," the man said in a flat, even voice. "My
name is Aram."
"WhatÑwhat do you want with me?" Willette asked in a frightened
little voice. This was almost too much for her. She felt like passing out
again. Perhaps when she woke up again she would be in the arms of the
lonely man.
Aram laughed. A wicked, gleeful laugh. The laugh of a man who has
exercised self restraint in life only when absolutely forced to. "What do I
want with you? I want many things with you. But you've been kidnapped
for your brain."
"My brain?" Willette asked meekly. It almost seemed impossible
that a beautiful young girl like herself would be wanted by men for her
brain. The boys wanted her for her body, and men still looked on her as too
immature to have anything more for them than a nice ass and tits.
Aram was laughing again. "Does that surprise you?" His eyes grazed
her cleavage. It was ample, and stuck out vertically from her body even as
it dangled slightly as she swayed between the two posts which held her
fast. Aram walked up to Willette and seized both sides of her blouse at
her collar. With one swift downward movement of his hands he tore
Willette's blouse completely open.
Willette gasped and looked down at her chest. Only her lacy white
bra remained to keep Aram's hands from her boobies.
"I see no reason why I should not have a nice view while I
interrogate you, hmm?" Aram asked, as if by way of apology for ripping
open Willette's blouse. "But let me get right to the point. I am planning a
terrorist attack on your country. At the airport where you work...or at
least where you used to work. You'll be working for me from now on, I
suppose, if I find you acceptable." Willette looked at Aram with wide
eyes.
"Please, please let me go?" Willette mewed.
"Not a chance," Aram said confidently. "Your beauty keeps you
captive, my dear. And alive. We just grabbed whoever we could...how
fortunate it turned out to be you! Of course, that does not mean your
interrogation will be any gentler." Willette could only stare back at Aram.
She felt both loathing and fear. If only the lonely man were here!
Unarmed, brave, defiant, and all with a wry sense of humor! He was so
sad, yet so noble. Certainly if anyone deserved to rip open her blouse it
was the lonely man.
Aram grazed the exposed upper curve of her breast with his
fingertips. There was dirt underneath his nails. "I want you to tell me
everything you know about the airport," Aram said. "Who goes in, who goes
out, what time. Who the security guards are, when they take their breaks.
Who the baggage handlers areÑ"
"Sir, I don't know any of that," Willette protested. "I just started
working there this week."
"That is not an acceptable answer," Aram said. His fingers dug into
her breast.
30
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