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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} NND in "Intimate Acts" (Andrew Roller)
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Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2001 04:10:02 -0400
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- NND ---------------------------------------------------------
Visit my FTP site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/ <--click
Click, or put the address into your browser. All my stories are there.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Virus attacks computers that don't have kiddie porn!
Warning! A brand new virus has been released. This virus is
very smart. It's like AIDS. It sends you a preliminary e-mail
attachment that scans your hard disk and determines what your favorite
subjects are. Then it sends you a second e-mail attachment. You will
find this attachment irresistible, since, having scanned your hard disk,
the virus has deduced what you like best and sends you an attachment on
that particular subject.
If you like real estate, the e-mail attachment will be about
real estate. If you like politics, the attachment will be about
politics. Apparently some warped computer genius wrote this virus, not
a mere script kiddie, and its ability to determine what you like best is
considered 99 percent accurate!
When you open the e-mail attachment, which will be about your
favorite subject, the virus springs into action. As you sit there
reading the attachment, the virus busily erases your hard disk. If your
disk is linked to any operational backup systems, the virus will invade
those systems and erase that data too! Already many users have found
years of work and saved files zapped into oblivion.
Fortunately, there is a way to protect yourself. You must
ensure that your hard disk (and your backup systems) contain kiddie
porn! The virus has very strict parameters. It must be bona fide
kiddie porn or your data will be erased!
Go to a web site or IRC chat line at once and get some kiddie
porn. Don't worry about law enforcement, tell anyone who asks that
you're just doing it to protect yourself. And of course you're doing it
to protect your children too, since their schoolwork is undoubtedly
stored on your hard disk. Your whole family can be kept safe from this
virus by making sure you have kiddie porn on your hard disk. Get a lot
of it, just to make sure that you're 100 percent protected. When your
own hard disk is protected, don't forget about your friends. Protect
them too by sending them kiddie porn. Give some to your co-workers,
your boss, and make sure your local police don't lose all their data by
giving them some kiddie porn too.
There is one other way to protect yourself, but I hesitate to
mention it since it is obviously totally unacceptable. Since this new
virus only attacks computers running Windows, you could go out and buy a
Macintosh. But obviously that approach won't be followed by anyone.
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
Intimate Acts
Chapter Two
Word soon spread of Mr. and Mrs. Brown's eager new acquisition,
and orders flooded in for a chance to meet Emily. Her next party took
place not in the home of the Brown's, but at the nearby home of a
wealthy aristocrat and his wife.
"You will be spending the night, dear," Mrs. Brown instructed
Emily as she brushed the girl's long blonde hair to a glorious lustre.
"What- what do you think they will have me do?" Emily asked,
gazing at her made-up face in a mirror, still naked, her nipples rouged,
waiting for Mrs. Brown to finish with her hair so that she might choose
a dress for the evening.
"You must be prepared for anything, which is why I am sending
you to these two next," Mrs. Brown said to the girl. She addressed her
reflection as she brushed her hair, and Emily was aware of the woman
looking not so much at her hair, tumbling down her naked back, as the
vision of her bare breasts presented in the mirror. Teasingly Emily
opened her legs. She gave Mrs. Brown a view of her bush.
"I think you might want to brush my pubic hair too," Emily said
to Mrs. Brown. She still remembered well how the woman had tongued her
to bliss two nights ago on the dining room table.
"Tch. A quick brush maybe, but you must not be too much in
earnest when you arrive at their house," Mrs. Brown answered. A brief
tremble passed through Emily.
"Ohhh, Mrs. Brown. I don't really want to go," Emily sighed.
"Can't you just put me on the table downstairs again and do me? It was
so delicious! I never thought a woman could be so wonderful." Mrs.
Brown smiled.
"You are to be trained, dear. Keeping you cooped up in the
house and fucking you for my own enjoyment will not broaden your
horizons." Emily pouted.
"Oh, pooh!" she said. Mrs. Brown stopped brushing her long
golden locks. She went round in front of the girl. Immediately Emily
wettened. She spread her legs like an eager puppy and watched with
fascination as Mrs. Brown lowered the hairbrush to her pussy.
"Ooooooh!" Emily gasped, as a quick swipe of the brush made her even
wetter and more excited.
"There. That's enough. I want your panties to be dry when you
greet the Aaronson's," Mrs. Brown said to the girl. "They might inspect
you, you know," she added.
"You mean, feel my panties?" Emily gasped, keeping her thighs
apart in invitation for another pass of the hairbrush.
"They are dominants, dear. They're going to do much more to
you than just feel your underwear," Mrs. Brown said to the girl. She
checked her makeup, smiled, and added, "The man's nearly 60. I doubt
you'll find yourself attracted to him. Which is exactly why I've
picked them to be your next clients. I want you to be able to do
whomever I choose, without reservations." Touching a finger to silence
a gasp from Emily, Mrs. Brown said, "However the woman of the house is a
young bitch. I think you'll like her. She's 23, very lovely, and has a
wicked sense of fun. She can be quite demanding, and I've told her to
be sure to challenge you this evening."
"You're mean!" Emily gasped.
"No, I'm making sure you're properly trained," Mrs. Brown said.
Emily was taken to the home of the Aaronson's by Mr. Brown. He
took Emily to the door and knocked for her. A light came on in a window
beside the door. Then the door opened, and an ancient man, almost 60
years old, peered out.
"I have a delivery," Mr. Brown told the man. Emily blanched
and felt her stomach churn. Was this the man she was expected to
sexually satisfy? He was older than her father.
"Ah yes. Bring her in," the older man said. Emily felt her
hand tremble as Mr. Brown took it and passed it to the man. He grasped
it, with barely hidden glee.
"I should rather not come in, lest I fall prey to your wife,"
Mr. Brown told Mr. Aaronson.
"Oh yes," Mr. Aaronson said. He let out a cackle. Emily felt
as if she were about to shrink into his elegant stone doorstoop. A
moment later she was yanked inside, the older man peering at her with
less than fatherly interest. She felt like a girl in a pin-up magazine,
with sperm about to splatter all over her. There were footsteps, but
she barely noticed them, as the front door shut behind her and she felt
intense pressure upon her wrist, where the old man was holding her.
"The girl is here," Mr. Aaronson said to his wife. Emily turned.
"Oh!" Emily gasped in shock. For Mrs. Aaronson was as young
and beautiful as her husband was old. Obviously she had married him
because he could provide her with a sumptuously decadent lifestyle.
Emily had barely had time to even glance around, yet she could see that
she was in an intensely elegant house. Everything in the house came
from London's finest shops, and, though she did not know it, things were
frequently taken back when they failed to live up to the old man's
rarefied taste, and the increasing sophisticated taste of his wife,
despite their first-class origin. Emily was taken hold of by Mrs.
Aaronson. To her relief she felt the old man let go of her wrist. She
got a glimpse of four gorgeous young men sitting in the couple's parlor,
and then, next thing she knew, she was in the kitchen.
Mrs. Aaronson gazed at her new guest with interest. She had
big dark lovely eyes and a pert nose, beneath which was a sexy young
mouth that looked perfectly shaped for teasing men's cocks. Emily
thought again of the four men in the parlor. What was this young
smartly dressed woman going to do with them? Emily's eyes trailed from
the woman's slim neck down to her bosom, even as Mrs. Aaronson sized up
Emily's own tits with her eyes. The wife had lovely big breasts, bigger
than Emily's. They were presently contained behind a blouse and a
buttoned jacket, but, owing to the jacket's decollete nature, and the
way her blouse already had three buttons undone, Emily suspected that
the young wife would not long remain so well clothed. She saw no
evidence of a bra under the half-unbuttoned blouse. When Mrs. Aaronson
moved or breathed, her bosom gave an enticing jiggle. Lower down the
woman's slim hips were encased in a tight-fitting skirt. To Emily's
surprise, the skirt was so short that it showed off the underside of her
panties, right where her cunt was. Indeed, the woman's jacket was
longer than her skirt. It spread into a sexy open vee at its base,
allowing a view of Mrs. Aaronson's panties and the center of her skirt.
As for the rest of her skirt, off to either side, her jacket hung down
over it, blocking it from Emily's view. The woman wore dark see-through
stockings that rose right up to the tops of her thighs. They were kept
in place by ruffled bands of silk that were part of her stockings. An
inch wide, the bands were thicker and more elaborate that the
see-through sheaths that encased the rest of her legs. The woman wore
black spiked heels that matched her black jacket. Yet her jacket was
not made of leather but of cloth. This sassy young woman didn't need
the added touch of leather to let everyone know she was a total bitch.
Showing with her eyes that she liked what she saw, Mrs.
Aaronson said to Emily, as the young woman smelled food cooking in the
kitchen, "Hurry. The men are waiting. Take off all your clothes."
Emily blinked. She tried to comply. But as she began unbuttoning her
pink blouse, and as Mrs. Aaronson stepped behind her to unzip her skirt,
she suddenly felt her stomach knot up. A moment later she was rushing
to the sink. She threw up in it.
"It's alright. It's alright," Mrs. Aaronson said, patting
Emily on the back as she threw up what little she'd had to eat at the
Brown's for dinner. "You are young and unsure of yourself. It will
pass." Emily finished throwing up. Mrs. Aaronson got out some
mouthwash for her to clean her mouth with. When Emily had gargled with
it, several times, Mrs. Aaronson commenced undressing her, unzipping her
skirt the rest of the way and letting it drop to her ankles. Gazing at
Emily's pretty white panties, Mrs. Aaronson told her, "You're very
beautiful."
Soon Emily was naked. However she wasn't yet ready to go meet
the men. Mr. Aaronson appeared, bringing items for Emily to wear. The
girl saw a pair of long black stockings, similar to what Mrs. Aaronson
wore. And spiked heels, purchased to Emily's measurements, which Mrs.
Brown had forwarded to the Aaronson's that afternoon. In addition Emily
saw a little black mask, and a sparkling bauble that she had no idea how
she was supposed to wear. it looked too large to be an earring. It
made a tinkling bell sound as Mr. Aaronson laid it on the kitchen
counter. If it was an earring, where was the other one, for Emily's
other ear?
Mrs. Aaronson brushed Emily's long blonde hair with a brush.
Then, to Emily's uncomfortable surprise, she had Emily stand still,
which was difficult to do, as she brushed Emily's pubic hair.
"My, you're wiggly," Mrs. Aaronson said to the girl as she
longed to feel the bristly brush inbetween her legs. Indeed, despite
her better judgement, Emily opened her legs for Mrs. Aaronson. But the
woman pretended to ignore Emily's unstated request. However Mr.
Aaronson didn't.
"I think she wants a quick brush in her pretty cunt," Mr.
Aaronson said to his wife.
"She wants many things, I'm sure," Mrs. Aaronson answered.
"And will get all in due time, I'm sure."
The little black mask, which matched Emily's stockings and
shoes, was tied over her eyes. She could see through it. However her
identity was now hidden, she noticed, looking in a mirror. Who was
she? The men would not know, although they wouldn't have known even if
they had seen her without the mask. She was just a girl. But she felt
fetchingly mysterious gazing at herself with the pretty mask on.
However the final item of Emily's attire was much less
intriguing to her. It turned out that the tinkling bauble, the one that
looked too big to be an earring, was in fact something to be dangled
between her legs. It was, specifically, a butt bauble. It had a golden
clasp at the top which, when inserted into Emily's anus and sprung, like
an opened trap, would hold it in place. Emily watched as Mrs. Aaronson
got out a bottle of baby oil and lubricated the clasp.
"Bend over," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily.
"Ohhh, couldn't we skip that?" Emily asked, her eyes wide,
hearing Mr. Aaronson cackle behind her.
"No," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. The girl bent over. She
grimaced as she felt Mrs. Aaronson spread the cheeks of her bottom.
Then there was a sharp stabbing pain, which grew more painful when Mrs.
Aaronson sprang open the clasp.
"Ouch!" Emily shouted, feeling her bottom hole spread and
stretched open. At the same time she felt something bang against the
back and insides of her thighs. It was the butt bauble, hanging down
from her ass! It made a jingling sound, announcing to all the world
that Emily's asshole was open. Emily felt a small amount of gas escape
from her bottom. Mrs. Aaronson waved her hand across her nose.
"I think I just smelled the remains of your dinner," Mrs.
Aaronson said to Emily.
"Ohhh, what if I have to go to the bathroom?" Emily asked in a
frantic voice, hearing the butt bauble jangle as she stood erect once
more.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Mrs. Aaronson
said to Emily. "You can still pee, of course."
"Yes," Emily admitted, looking down at her belly and her pubic
hairs beyond, feeling the butt bauble bang with with a tinkling sound
against the backs of her thighs.
"Do you have to poop right now?" Mrs. Aaronson asked Emily.
"No," Emily said.
"Good. Then lets get the food out of the oven and have you
serve it to the men," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. She handed the girl
some oven mitts. With her butt bauble tinkling behind her, Emily opened
the oven and took out little cooked bits of chicken. These were put on
crackers, by herself and Mrs. Aaronson. Mr. Aaronson had slipped away,
and as Emily heard laughter coming from the parlor she blushed. The old
man, no doubt, was telling the men about Emily's bottom!
When the chicken was parceled out to a trayful of crackers, and
layered with bits of cheese and pickles and peppers and olives, Mrs.
Aaronson told Emily to take the tray out to the men in the parlor. "You
look lovely, darling. Now it's time for you to make your grand
entrance," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. "Don't worry. I'll be right
behind you," she added. To Emily's surprise, she opened a cabinet and
took out a small leather whip. And then she took out one more thing, a
thin black leather collar. It had long spiked studs on it. Looking at
it, Emily gasped. Mrs. Aaronson told the girl to hold still while she
tied the collar around Emily's neck.
"What- what is this?" Emily asked.
"It's a bondage collar," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. "I wasn't
sure if I should put it on you but, seeing how sexy you are, I think
it's only appropriate. I call it a blow-job insurance collar, meaning,
the men will think twice before trying to shove their long hungry cocks
in your mouth. The points aren't quite as sharp as they look. Feel,"
Mrs. Aaronson said. She took one of Emily's small hands in her own and
lifted it up to one of the points on Emily's collar. Indeed, though
being pointed at the tip, the stud Emily felt wasn't razor sharp. It
had a slight blunt to it, but a man looking at her might not know that.
"Thank you," Emily breathed, her breasts joggling nakedly as
she spoke, the butt bauble down below giving a slight tinkle.
"Would you feel safer if I attached a leash to it, so the men
know you belong to me and not them?" Mrs. Aaronson asked Emily.
"Okay," Emily gasped, after thinking about it a moment. Mrs.
Aaronson got a leather leash out of the kitchen cabinet. She buckled it
onto Emily's collar. Then, standing behind Emily, holding the end of
the leash, she gave the girl a light crack on her bottom with the whip.
"Ouch!" Emily cried. Her long golden hair whisked on her back as she
turned her head abruptly and looked back at the young wife who'd struck
her.
"Proceed," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. The girl saw a glimmer of
mirth in the young wife's eyes. Emily gulped. She turned back around
and, with her bare hands, she picked up the tray with the
condiment-laden crackers on it. There were at least two dozen crackers,
plenty for every man. Emily took a step in her high heels. She nearly
lost her balance! A cracker dropped off her tray as the tray wobbled in
her hands.
"Bertie!" Mrs. Aaronson called. To Emily's dismay and
surprise, the woman's old geezer husband appeared. He clapped a
liver-spotted hand to the snowy white right cheek of Emily's naked
behind. Emily shivered. But much as she disliked the hand, a finger of
which quickly intruded into the crack of her bottom, it kept her steady
in her high heels. Emily took a step forward again. The tray of
crackers shook in her hand but she managed to keep it level this time.
Into the living room they went, and what a sight they were! The four
men who were guests at the house gasped when the saw the trio. Emily,
hidden behind her mask, her only substantial covering her long golden
hair which both Mrs. Brown and now Mrs. Aaronson had brushed to a
coin-bright lustre. And beside Emily, naked except for her black
stockings and heels, her spiked collar showing her utter submission, was
Mr. Aaronson. The men laughed as they followed his hand down past the
girl's waist and located the sound of the tinkling bell that they
heard. Between Emily's stockinged legs, in the space that came and went
as she walked, glimpses of the butt bauble could be seen! For a moment
the men seemed to think the item was hung from the lips of Emily's cunt,
but as Emily approached, and they gazed more closely, they saw that the
decoration was indeed hung from behind, banging and jangling against the
backs and insides of her thighs. The men laughed; this was the little
item Mr. Aaronson had told them about, and by God he hadn't been lying!
Emily stopped in front of the men. For a moment she felt a tinge of
unexpected jealousy, for much as the men had obviously admired her,
their eyes were now slipping one by one over to Mr. Aaronson's wife.
The woman was more astonishing than ever, holding the leather leash that
connected to Emily's collar. Like Emily, she wore spiked black shoes
and long silky black stockings. Despite her skirt, her panties could be
seen, and right where it counted, in between her pretty black-sheathed
legs. The contrast between black silk and white cotton panty was
intoxicating. When the men got their fill of Mrs. Aaronson's pussy,
their eyes lifted. Her jacket was now unbuttoned, completely, and
within it her blouse was open to the fifth button. The men gasped as
Mrs. Aaronson came forward, still holding Emily's leash, and made a
pretense of putting a shifting a magazine on the low coffee table in
front of the men where the tray of condiments would be put down. As the
young wife bent, the inevitable happened. Her bra-less breasts slipped
by their very weight out of her nearly unbuttoned blouse. The men found
themselves staring at two very lovely, trembling naked white tits,
surmounted by pretty pink teats that looked ripe for milking.
"Dear, you're coming apart," Mr. Aaronson said with some
disapproval to his wife.
"Indeed I am," Mrs. Aaronson answered. But she made no effort
to repair herself. Instead she went round the table and presented
herself to the nearest man on the couch. "Sir, do you think my dress is
too short?" Mrs. Aaronson asked the man.
"No, not at all," the man answered.
"But I believe you can see my panties," Mrs. Aaronson said.
She thrust her hips forward, making Emily swallow hard as she realized,
however naked she was, she would always be playing second to such a
lovely and forward woman. "You were looking down at them when I first
answered the door this evening, and now you're looking at my panties
again," Mrs. Aaronson said with mock anger to the man, the three other
guests, also sitting with him on the couch, now all leaning toward him
to get a better and closer view of the wife's pantied crotch. "Is
something wrong with my panties?" Mrs. Aaronson asked.
"N-No," the man said.
"Well I don't like having them always stared at," Mrs. Aaronson
said. And then, standing right there in front of her husband, she
added, "If they interest you so much, sir, why don't you have them?
Take them off me and put them in your coat pocket or something." The
man looked up at Mrs. Aaronson. He was young, college age, and
obviously unsure of himself in such a suddenly sexually charged
atmosphere. The other three men, one of whom was his age but two of
whom were a few years older, visibly longed to be in his place.
"Take them," one of the older men whispered to the young
college age boy. With trembling hands the young man reached out to the
young wife's hips. Mr. Aaronson cleared his throat, to no avail. The
young man reached under Mrs. Aaronson's micro-mini, as Emily gulped
again, realizing that for all her display none of the gorgeous hunks was
looking at her at the moment. If a quiz had been taken right then, she
was sure they would have come up as having forgotten her completely.
"Oh my!" Mrs. Aaronson gasped, feeling the air of the room
touch her pussy as the young man pulled her panties down her
silk-stockinged thighs.
"Mmmm," the young man breathed, and it was simultaneously
hummed by the other three men, all of them fixated now on the lovely
dark bush that presented itself indiscreetly beneath the hem of Mrs.
Aaronson's too short skirt. The young man pulled Mrs. Aaronson's
panties down the rest of the way, savoring the chance to feel her long
lovely stockinged legs as he denuded her of her undies. When he reached
her shoes, Mrs. Aaronson stepped as daintily as she could out of her
underthings. The young man lifted the white panties up to his nose and
sniffed. Then, spurred by the other young men present, he passed Mrs.
Aaronson's panties to them. Each one in turn took a sniff. Emily
thought for a moment she was back in elementary school, watching boys
pass around Scratch n' Sniff stickers.
When the panties had been returned to the youngest man on the
right of the couch, he took out a handkerchief from his coat's breast
pocket. Sheepishly he passed the handkerchief to Mrs. Aaronson, as if
the thing could in fact be of use to the woman in covering up her pussy,
which it obviously couldn't. But Mrs. Aaronson smiled and accepted the
gift. Then the young man placed her panties in his breast pocket,
letting part of her panties stick out as if they were some sort of rose.
"What a nice thought. I'm so glad we're not out in public,"
Mrs. Aaronson smiled sardonically.
"We're not, yet.. but at the end of the night I'll wear them
home, just like this," the young man promised Mrs. Aaronson.
"And will you tell everyone you meet whose panties you've got
sticking out of your breast pocket?" Mrs. Aaronson asked.
"Yes. Mine, naturally," the young man answered. The other
young men laughed. Even Emily giggled a little. Mr. Aaronson cleared
his throat again. This brought the attention of everyone this time, and
all eyes turned toward him.
"I expect you gentlemen can provide some sort of compensation
for depriving my wife of her panties?" the old man asked, his hand still
placed on Emily's bottom and making the girl cry out now as he found her
sprung open bottom hole with his errant finger. There was more
laughter, as everyone watched Emily nearly drop the tray again in her
distress, and then Mrs. Aaronson said,
"Of course they will compensate, dear," Mrs. Aaronson said.
She looked at her four guests. "Bill, Joe, Mike, Stan," she said,
addressing the men from right to left, from the man who had taken her
panties off the the oldest one on the left, "I want you to undo your
flies. Take your penises out! If I can show my pussy, you four can
certainly show your cocks! Emily watched as the men quickly unzipped
themselves. She noticed that despite Mr. Aaronson's finger in her anus,
he watched with at least as much interest as her. The four men popped
out, the older two getting themselves undone more quickly than the
somewhat bashful younger two. Emily gasped as she saw four imposing
cocks spring into view. Mrs. Aaronson, still holding Emily's leash,
smiled and nodded. Emily didn't know it, but with Mr. Aaronson's
approval she had previously blow-jobbed 15 different young men in
various clubs, looking for four with the finest dicks. These were the
ones now displaying themselves before Emily's eyes, and the young girl
felt her heart race as she realized that none of the men were an inch
under ten in length; indeed, two of them, one younger and one older,
looked footlong!
"Such delicious looking hot dogs, don't you think Emily?" Mrs.
Aaronson asked. Emily blushed as she felt all four men's eyes once
again remember her. With their penises out, their stares were more
lascivious than ever. "Please serve each of the men some crackers,
Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "I'll see to the wine."
There was a wet bar in the living room. The men had already
been imbibing, courtesy of Mr. Aaronson, and now Mrs. Aaronson took
their glasses, two at a time, and refilled them at the wet bar. Emily,
meanwhile, put the tray down on the coffee table and then gave a cracker
to each of the men. It was rather annoying moving between them and
their side of the table, for as Emily walked in between, the men's knees
and each cock banged or wiggled against Emily's stockinged calves.
"Oh! Oh my," Emily said, serving each man, which Mrs.
Aaronson, getting the wine, required her to do. "Much will be asked of
the men this evening, Emily. I don't want them needlessly exerting
themselves on things that we can so easily do for them," the young wife
told Emily as she went to the wet bar. So instead of leaning down for
crackers, as any of the men could have easily done, Emily was forced to
work inbetween them and the table, bothered by their penises which left
wet stains on her stockings whenever she was bumped by them. And that
was not the end of Emily's troubles. As she worked inbetween the men
and the table, the four men reached out and played with her butt
bauble. It seemed irresistible to them. They increased its tinkling
sound by hitting it with their fingers; the only relief Emily could find
in the matter was that Mr. Aaronson had taken his own finger out of her
anus and retreated to a chair. However when Emily had served each of
the men, Mrs. Aaronson told the girl not to forget her husband. With
trepidation Emily took a cracker and went to the man. Just as she
reached him he gave her a disapproving look.
"One cracker?" Mr. Aaronson asked the girl. Emily blinked and
looked blank. Then she said,
"That's- that's what I gave the other men."
"Do you think I'm trying to be a miser? That I can't afford to
give my guests more than one cracker?" Mr. Aaronson asked Emily. Again
the girl looked blank. In the background she heard Mrs. Aaronson, who
had returned from the wet bar, giggling as she served the men their
refills of wine. "Get over my knees, you naughty young thing!" Mr.
Aaronson told Emily. He reached out and grabbed the girl's wrist.
Emily tried to draw back but the old lizard showed surprising strength;
a moment later 15-year-old Emily found herself lying facedown over the
old man's lap!
Whack! Whack! Whack! Without so much as a moment to let her
get her composure, the old man began whaling Emily's bare behind with
his hand. Emily let out a scream; it was utterly humiliating to be
spanked like a little child in front of the four hunky guests! She
heard laughter; her own lungs were preoccupied with hollering as the old
man gave her a spanking unlike anything she'd felt since she was six.
Emily's breasts, hanging down beyond Mr. Aaronson's right thigh, wiggled
and leapt with fleshy abandon. Her head twisted in screamy denial,
making her long golden locks toss again and again across her back. And
worst of all, above her sexily stockinged thighs, her white bottom began
turning bright pink! To Emily's dismay, the butt bauble, hanging down
from its clasp, banged its girth inbetween her legs against her cunt.
So Emily, despite the pain in her behind from Mr. Aaronson's rapidly
moving hand, found herself, to her blushing surprise, feeling aroused
even as she screamed from the spanking.
Bang! Bang! Bang! went the butt bauble against Emily's slit,
all the while that Mr. Aaronson was making her bottom glow red. Emily
at last got the idea of closing her thighs, her legs kicking up and down
all the while, but at once Mr. Aaronson, seeing what she was doing, hit
her harder and ordered her to spread her legs wide.
"Wider! Wider!" Mr. Aaronson yelled. And so Emily found
herself feeling like some floundering fish, hearing laughter behind her
as with splayed and kicking legs she suffered the rest of the spanking.
At last, gasping, Emily was allowed to stand up. To her
mortification, she was wet between her legs. Where she had asked Mrs.
Aaronson to brush her, provoking a polite refusal, she had now been hit
repeatedly by the bauble hanging between her legs. She felt all tingly
down in her slit, and her arousal increased despite her flaming bottom,
and her hands which flew to it and clutched it, when Mrs. Aaronson told
the wincing girl to come over and suck the men's dicks.
"They must be apologized to for only getting one cracker," Mrs.
Aaronson told Emily. The girl came over and, at the young wife's
insistence, knelt down before the oldest man who sat on the extreme left
of the couch. From the right, the college age boy watched with
cock-trembling interest. Glad now of her spiked collar, which made the
oldest man of the four shiver as Emily put her lips to him, Emily began
to suck.
"Must she wear that collar?" the oldest of the four guests
asked Mrs. Aaronson.
"Yes. It's insurance, to make sure you men behave and don't
try to take advantage of her," the young wife said. Then, copying
Emily, she got down on her knees. In a mirror against the far wall the
young men could see Mrs. Aaronson's miniskirt rise up over her ass, due
to her posture. With her bared bottom showing, the young woman put
Bob's penis into her mouth. The youngest of the four men gasped, feeling
himself sucked upon. At the left end of the couch Emily was working the
oldest of the four guests. Inbetween the two young men waited with
tremblingly exposed dicks; they could not stand the pressure of the wait
and, with Mr. Aaronson eyeing them greedily from his chair, they both
began to masturbate themselves.
Mrs. Aaronson popped the youngest of the four out of her
mouth. Holding Bill's penis twixt two fingers, promising with her touch
that she would give him more, she addressed the four men, even the one
on the extreme left who was groaning now as he felt the under-age Emily
suck his dick.
"Gentlemen, there are a few ground rules we must cover," Mrs.
Aaronson said to the men, as casually as if she might have been at a
card game, explaining the rules of bridge. "First, I have high
expectations of you this evening. To meet my expectations, not to
mention those of my husband, you must remain hard, which means you
cannot spend. I want your fine cocks perpetually hard; however, there
is a compensation. Whenever you wish to pee, you may do so, and as
freely and openly as you desire. Here of course, to protect the carpet,
a container will be provided by myself or Emily for you to pee into.
But you will find that in other places, such as outdoors in the back
yard or in the sauna, you may simply start wetting whenever you like,
pissing right where you please."
"Can we piss on you?" one of the men who was masturbating
himself asked, and took a stab at aiming himself at the woman.
"You may piss however it pleases you, but not in this room
because our carpet is too expensive to replace every time we have
company," Mrs. Aaronson smiled.
"God damn! Take this collar off this bitch!" the oldest of the
guests, on the left, demanded. He was clearly eager to get himself more
fully into Emily, but feared the girl might gag and lose him and he
might stab himself on her spikes.
"That is why Emily has the collar, dear," Mrs. Aaronson said to
the man. "She is just a little girl. I knew you'd want to deep throat
her and while I can stand such punishment, she cannot. You will have to
let her determine the pace and depth of your insertion into her mouth."
"God, it's like being sucked by some incompetent little girl,"
the man groused, though he grimaced a second later because, for all her
inexperience, Emily's wet little mouth was bringing him dangerously
close to spending.
"She must be trained, and that requires slowness and patience,"
Mrs. Aaronson told the man at the left end of the couch, while
continuing to hold the man on the extreme right. "Her collar enforces
your patience. Don't worry. I will be at you soon and then you can
feel the depths of my throat. Without spending, of course," Mrs.
Aaronson reminded him. Then she tossed back her long black hair, to get
it out of the way, and proceeded to deep throat Bill at the right end of
the couch, nearly making him cum.
She looked up from her computer screen. How long had she been
reading this story? Another early morning search of the web to finish
her homework had wound up as a time-wasting activity on some irrelevant
site. Still, the story was rather curious. She gazed out the window
over the red martian sand, watching the horizon blush to the color of
sand in the east. The sun was rising. Her wristphone beeped. She
looked down at it. It was six a.m. precisely. She read the day and the
month and the year underneath, reflexively: Tuesday, Bush, 51 A.F. The
day was a name borrowed from earth, the month was named after former
U.S. President George W. Bush, who got the manned Mars program going
again, and the 51 A.F. was for 51 "After Foot," meaning 51 years since
the first human set foot on Mars. She had just learned all that, in
school, especially about the meaning of A.F. and B.F., "After Foot" and
"Before Foot." She wondered what she would be like when she was 15,
like the character in the story she was reading. Then she remembered
that the girl's age was of course an Earth age, measured in Earth
years. Her own age was measured in Martian years, just like the time on
her watch, 51 Mars years since the humans first set foot here.
She was 10 Mars years old. She wondered how that would
translate into Earth years. Earth was closer to the sun and went around
it faster, so... she lost track of the math. She pressed on her
wristphone. A moment later a voice spoke out of it. Quickly she turned
down the volume. She didn't want her mother to hear.
"Did you get the answers in Social Studies?" she asked the
voice on her watch.
"Huh?" The voice sounded groggy. "No," her friend said a
moment later. There was a pause. Then, "What are you doing? her
friend Mary asked. "I'm still asleep!"
"I'm trying to get my Social Studies done," Claire told her
friend. "Who was U.S. President after... um... Bush? George W. Bush?"
"How should I know?" the groggy voice answered.
"It's due today!" Claire told her.
"Oh," Mary's voice said. It became more awake. "Maybe we
should call Sue," it said.
"She did hers last night and has her wristphone turned off and
is still asleep," Claire told her watch. "I'm sure of it."
"Oh," the still-groggy voice said again. "How about Clinton?"
Mary asked after a moment. "I think it was Clinton. As if it fucking
matters."
"Okay, I'll put Clinton," Claire said. She pressed her finger
to the computer screen. The text of the story vanished. Then she
picked up a stylus and wrote across the screen, as a view of her
homework assignment appeared. "Clinton," she wrote in answer to a
typewritten question. Then, studying the screen more closely,
specifically the answer two lines above, she said into her watch, "No!
It couldn't be Clinton. He was president before Bush." For a moment
the watch did not respond. Then Mary said,
"That's it! It's Bush, Clinton, Bush, Clinton! Now I
remember. Bush the father, then Bill who had sex with that girl, then
Bush the son, then Bill's wife, who he'd divorced by the time she became
president!" Claire smiled. There was no doubt in her mind that her
friend was correct. "I wish all the answers were like that, for all the
U.S. presidents," Claire said.
"Yes. It would make it much easier," Mary answered. Confident
that she could easily finish the rest of her homework before school,
Claire pressed her finger to her computer screen again. The text of the
story appeared once more, the one about the 15 Earth years old Earth
girl.
"Thanks," Claire spoke into her watch.
"Sure. No problem. I'm going back to sleep," Mary answered.
Claire pressed her finger to her computer screen again and the text of
the story reappeared:
Mrs. Aaronson felt Bill's thing in her mouth suddenly lurch,
like a snake being wakened from a deep freeze. The rock hard stiffness
of his prick flexed. Quickly she drew him from the confines of her
throat, then from her mouth, her silky wet lips stroking his penis as
she pulled him out. With a flick, her tongue laved the crown of his
thing as it left, feeling its ridge, touching his pee hole. Suddenly a
geyser tore from the hole, which opened wide, like a snake eye, to emit
it. Mrs. Aaronson tried to dodge the spray. It was no use. He
splashed into her eyes, he flooded her cheeks. Mrs. Aaronson gasped.
In an attempt to control the mess she aimed the spray at her lips and
spread them wide. The discharge hammered her tongue. She gulped
quickly, working her throat as fast as she could to try to get it all,
to keep it off herself and her expensive carpet. When Bill finished she
kissed the tip of his prong, which was already shrivelling in her grasp,
her little fist seemingly bigger now upon it.
"My, that was quite a torrent, sir," Mrs. Aaronson said to
Bill. She blinked rapidly, then let go of him. "Of course you will
have to be dismissed. But I admire your enthusiasm. Perhaps we will
meet again to train that thing of yours so it won't make quite such a
mess." Mrs. Aaronson moved on her knees to the next man, Joe, who sat
on the couch with his legs spread and his own penis still erect. She
took hold of him. As she did she looked to her right. Mr. Aaronson had
moved to the end of the couch and was urging the young man who had lost
himself to rise, to zip himself up, to leave.
"I could probably get hard again in a matter of minutes," Bill
said to Mr. Aaronson.
"It is a rule of the house," Mr. Aaronson answered. Mrs.
Aaronson flicked her eyes up to the face of the new man whose prick she
now held in her hands. Kneeling before him, seemingly a supplicant to
his massive cock, she said, in a high girlish voice, noticing that he
was drooling down onto her breasts,
"Don't drip too much, or I'll kick you out too." Then she
downed him, in one practised swallow. Joe croaked with pleasure at
finding himself suddenly within her throat, her tongue playing over the
nearer end of his shaft as his farther extremity plumbed her tight
depths. Her throat was sperm soaked now, oily from Bill's discharge.
Mrs. Aaronson worked Joe up and down in her throat like a reluctant
sword swallower, the blade in her neck but unwilling to plunge it down
to her stomach.
"Oh God!" the third man, Mike, his cock waiting its turn,
gasped. He watched as Joe twisted his hips beside him, barely able to
stand the pleasure of this practised young wife's deep throating.
Meanwhile the man beside Mike, Stan, the oldest of the three, was still
being licked by Emily. What she lacked in skill she made up for in
enthusiasm. She traced the veins of Stan's big prick with the tip of
her tongue, her curiosity evident in her gaze, her hands both holding
him at the root of himself like a little girl clasping a glass of milk.
"I really think I could get hard again pretty soon," the
youngest man, now being escorted from the room by Mr. Aaronson,
protested.
"I'm sure you'll be invited again," Mr. Aaronson smiled. He
had his hand in the small of the young man's back, and he seemed to be
admiring his broad shoulders as he moved him toward the door. Suddenly
his hand went lower, and Bill yelped as he felt the pressure of the
ancient man's palm on his trousered behind. "There is one way you could
remain and perhaps rejoin the festivities later," Mr. Aaronson
suggested. Emily yelped as Stan tried to force himself into her mouth
again, testy that she could not take him like Mrs. Aaronson could.
"Wh- what way is that?" Bill asked Mr. Aaronson. The party
going on by the couch was exciting in the extreme. He hated to leave
it.
"If you will place yourself in my hands, doing exactly as I
require, I will see to it that you get to fuck my wife. And the new
girl too, the little visitor, what is her name?"
"Emily?" Bill asked, not sure himself, though he was at that
very moment admiring her near-naked figure.
"Yes. Emily," Mr. Aaronson said. "You will get to fuck them
both, even if you have to rest inbetween. But to obtain that pleasure
you must agree to spend time with me." Mr. Aaronson squeezed the young
man's small tight behind. He left no doubt in Bill's mind where his
thoughts were going.
"You mean, gay sex?" Bill gasped.
"I prefer not to call it that," Mr. Aaronson said. He could
tell Bill had never even thought of having a gay encounter before.
Those were exactly the sort of boys Mr. Aaronson liked. "Let's go
upstairs," Mr. Aaronson said, focussing on the young man's right cheek
through the cloth of his pants and giving it another squeeze.
"Upstairs?" Bill asked, lost in a perplexion of shame and
desire. Emily shrieked by the couch as Stan now put himself into her
mouth, despite her reluctance. "What- what for?" Bill asked.
"Why, if you're going to be staying, I need to put you in the
guest bedroom," Mr. Aaronson said. He felt with his other hand the
front of the young man's pants, feeling the boy begin to grow hard again
at the thought of such forbidden things. "Come. Let's get you upstairs
and undressed. You must be tired after having such a torrential
discharge."
"No. Really, I'm quite alright," Bill said.
"Do you wish to stay?" Mr. Aaronson said.
"Yes. I--" Bill answered, growing even harder under the
pressure of Mr. Aaronson's hand on his crotch and behind.
"Then let's upstairs," Mr. Aaronson said. "We'll rejoin the
others after you and I have had a little rest." And so Bill, confused
as ever as to what his actions should be, let Mr. Aaronson guide him to
the stairs of his home, and they went up together, Mr. Aaronson letting
go of the front of the boy's trousers but keeping his other hand firmly
on his ass.
Drawing Joe from her mouth, Mrs. Aaronson moved to Joe, the
third and final man. Beside him Stan was working himself into Emily's
throat. The girl gagged in protest but Mrs. Aaronson, sensing that she
had to learn sometime, did not interfere. Looking up at Mike she asked,
through sperm-laden eyelashes,
"Ready?"
"Yes," Mike gasped. His cock trembled in her small fist as she
put him to her lips. She kissed him, Bill's sperm and Joe's precum
wetting the tip of him, mingling with what he himself was emitting from
his pee hole, the clear fluid that precurses an ejaculation. Mrs.
Aaronson sucked Mike into her mouth. She worked her cheeks, looking up
at him with her big dark almond-sized eyes. He smiled down at her, his
teeth chattering slightly, desperate not to share the fate of Bill who
could now be heard on the stairs with Mr. Aaronson, saying, "Do you
really mean to put yourself in my ass, sir?" The thought of the danger
Mike faced, of cumming and having to join Mr. Aaronson in the bedroom
upstairs, or leave, added to Mike's tension. Mrs. Aaronson felt it all
along the length of his cock. She smiled a little. Beside her Emily
was silenced by Stan's thing deep down in her throat, her breath
exploding in small puffs of protest through her pretty nose.
"I think we should all have a sauna," Mrs. Aaronson said a
minute or so later, when she had let Mike plumb down into the deepest
depths of her throat. She held him gently now, now wanting to add to
the mess already on her face from Bill's accident. Beside Mike, sitting
with his legs apart and his still-erect thing hanging out, Joe stared
hungrily. He obviously felt inspired to grope himself with his hand, to
bring his cock off, but he knew what would happen if he did: Bill would
have company upstairs. So he sat rubbing his thighs, as Stan, finally
on the brink from his forcing of Emily's throat, suddenly pulled himself
free of the girl child's mouth.
"Whew!" Stan gasped. Emily gasped too, but entirely from
relief that she could breathe again.
"Would you like me to suck you?" Mrs. Aaronson asked Stan,
holding Mike's still stiff prick in her hand.
"No. Not just now," Stan sighed. His big penis trembled. He
gritted his teeth and eased Emily's hands off the root of himself.
"I'd like us all to have a sauna," Mrs. Aaronson said.
"When do we get to fuck?" Stan asked.
"Oh, not for a long time yet," Mrs. Aaronson said. "I like to
keep my men very hard and ready for action. You'll probably see me fuck
little Emily here several times before I let you men lose those fine
erections of yours."
"What?" Emily asked, looking up from Stan, whose cock hovered
before her face like a rattler ready to pounce.
"Oh yes dear, you and I are going to fuck, no doubt about it,"
Mrs. Aaronson smiled at Emily, kneeling beside her, her right hand
holding Mike's thing as her left crept over to Emily. She found the
girl's nearest hand and squeezed it.
"But-- but-- you don't have a penis!" Emily said, and, just to
make sure, leaned forward, her forehead bumping against the end of
Stan's cock, and gazed down between Mrs. Aaronson's legs at her bush.
It was dark like the hair that swept down from her head, and Emily, to
her great relief, saw that the little muff of hair was as useless for
fucking as her own blonde muff was.
"My husband and I have plenty of dildos. He's not always able
to satisfy me, you know," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. She giggled. "And
sometimes he wants me to satisfy him," Mrs. Aaronson added, as Emily's
eyes widened in mortification. "But first we'll relax in the sauna,"
Mrs. Aaronson said. She stood up. "Everyone take off your things,
every last stitch," she said. She smiled and reached back behind
herself and unzipped her too short skirt. Looking down at Emily she
said, "Take off everything except your collar. You must always wear
that. It is a sign of your status." Stan reached forward and unclipped
Emily's leash. Then he helped her to stand and rose up himself. He got
her out of her things as quick as he could, as Mike and Joe stood up and
helped Mrs. Aaronson. In a few minutes they were stark naked, Mrs.
Aaronson stripped to her earrings while Emily was naked except for her
earrings and collar. The men were completely naked, their cocks stiff
in invitation as Mrs. Aaronson directed them all to the sauna her
husband and she owned. It was at the back of the house, so that in the
wintertime, after baking in the sauna, they might run outside for a
moment and cool themselves in the snow. Mrs. Aaronson pinned up her
hair, then opened the door to the sauna. A smell of wood escaped into
the hall. She ushered men, their cocks still erect, into the dark
room. She flicked on a light for them as they entered. Emily went
last, followed by Mrs. Aaronson. The young wife bolted the sauna door
shut from the inside once they were all in the pine-panelled room.
"Sit down," Mrs. Aaronson urged the men. She handed them each
a folded towel, taken from a pile of towels inside the sauna at the end
of a wooden bench. She told them to put the towel under their naked
behinds. "So you don't get any splinters," Mrs. Aaronson teased. The
men sat down. Each of them was aware of the fullness of their balls
between their legs as they sat, their scrotums dying to release their
seed through their long erect dicks. Little Emily, placing a hand over
her muff, sat down on the bare wood of the bench. Mrs. Aaronson hadn't
given her a towel.
"No, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "I don't want you
sitting down. Not yet. I want you to kneel on the floor." Emily's
eyes widened but she obeyed. Thinking that she must be needed for her
mouth again, and giving a little grimace as she looked at the three men
with their stiff penises sitting on towels on the bench, she crouched
down on the floor. She settled her soft round white ass on her heels.
Her hands slaked her thighs, aware of the way her blonde muff was
tingling up between her legs, her whole figure trembling a little, like
the big long cocks that the men displayed with both enthusiasm and
worry, afraid they might spill themselves when the fetching young thing
at their feet was put to them again.
But Mrs. Aaronson didn't have another cock sucking in mind.
Not just yet. She told Emily to lift her bottom, to show it off by
placing her elbows on the floor in front of her knees. Emily, a puzzled
look coming over her, obeyed again, watching over her shoulder as her
uplifted behind drew the men's eyes to it, her small lovepouch nestled
between the white expanse of her trim white thighs, the backs of her
thighs almost as alluring as what she was offering above it, in the form
of two supple white cheeks with a wide crack between them. For Emily,
being young, had a bottom that opened in invitation when she got on her
knees. A mature woman's bottom would have bottom halves that touched,
but a young girl like Emily, sticking her ass in the air, stretched the
taut halves so that what lay between, the crack itself and its little
back hole, opened wide. Of course the hole itself remained like a
little dimple, widening just a little, it would have to be forced and
stretched over time to become as accessible as the men now staring down
at Emily's ass would want it to be. Mrs. Aaronson took down a paddle
hanging from a peg on the wall. She stroked it, feeling the smooth
surface of it. Then she flicked a switch on the side of a round wooden
cabinet standing near the bench. Coals, atop the cabinet, resting on a
grill-like surface, began to heat.
"While the oven warms the room, I'm going to warm your bottom,
Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "A good spank will serve to remind
you of your place here. That way when it's time to fuck, you won't
protest. Your stinging behind will cause you to remember that obedience
is best." Mrs. Aaronson smiled. She pulled a hair pin from her hair,
then another, and handed them to Emily, who straightened up to receive
them. "I don't want your hair to get in the way of your face when I
spank you, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "It excites the men to
see a girl crying and screaming, especially if another woman causes it.
Always we must remember to keep the men entertained. I never allow my
guests to have a moment when they aren't on tenterhooks." Mrs. Aaronson
looked at the men. "I think you'll find this quite stimulating,
gentlemen," the young wife told them, as Emily, kneeling before them,
pinned up her hair. "To keep you from cumming, I have a suggestion to
make. A command, in fact," Mrs. Aaronson smiled. "I want each of you
to grab the balls of the man next to you. Don't be afraid," she told
them. "It's not gay to do it if a woman orders you to. Grab your
friend's balls and pull down on them, continuously, while I spank
Emily. Joe, you grab Mike and Stan. Stan, you grab Mike's balls. With
your other hand I want you to toss water on the stove when it needs it,"
Mrs. Aaronson told Stan. She pointed to a bucket of water on the
floor. A ladle was sitting in it, its handle projecting upward out of
the water like a slim stiff cock. The men grabbed each other's balls as
the young wife had ordered, after a moment's hesitation, each one
remarking at how full his neighbor's scrotum was. When Stan had a good
hold on Mike's balls, he lifted the ladle out of the bucket. Full and
dripping, he tossed its contents onto the coals atop the stove. There
was a quick sizzling sound, as of sperm being wasted on a hot summer
sidewalk. Then a cloud of steam rose up in the room, as Mrs. Aaronson
sized up Emily's bottom. The girl was on her knees and bent forward
again, displaying her white naked ass to the men's greedy eyes. Gently
Mrs. Aaronson touched her paddle to the surface of the girl's
well-rounded behind.
"This will hurt you more than it hurts me," Mrs. Aaronson
laughed. "But I don't want you to think of it as punishment. You've
been very good so far, with just a little fussing, which I hardly can
complain about in a girl of 15. Think of it as an experiment," the
young wife told Emily as the girl craned her neck back to see what the
woman was doing to her ass. She could feel the paddle moving gently
back and forth across it, in slow caressing strokes. But a moment later
Mrs. Aaronson lifted the paddle high. Emily blinked. Her hair pinned
up so that everyone would be able to see the effect the paddle had on
her face, she waited. Then suddenly Mrs. Aaronson brought the wooden
object swinging down. It struck Emily, squarely on her upraised bottom,
and the girl, surprised, let out a howl.
Trying to cool her ass in the air after the paddle had stung
it, Emily rotated her bottom, squeezing and flexing the cheeks. The men
followed the alluring display of Emily's nether parts with their eyes.
As they did so, they pulled on each other's balls. But their intention
with each other was not as altruistic as Mrs. Aaronson had hoped.
Wickedly, each one squeezed the balls of the man next to him as
erotically as he could, hopping to make his friend spend while he
himself stayed intact. Mrs. Aaronson caressed the paddle with her hand;
Emily had received one stroke, she intended to give her quite a few
more. She looked at Emily's cheeks. A red hue had appeared on the
whiteness of her flesh where the paddle had connected. Emily, looking
back once more after lifting and twisting her head to let out a scream,
eyed the paddle with trepidation.
"I want you to meet the challenge of the paddle, Emily," Mrs.
Aaronson told the girl. "Don't look so frightened of it. It's just a
piece of wood. You can take much more than this. I've had whips,
canes, even a chain once, although I admit that came close to breaking
my hips. "Let me see your eyes," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. Emily
lifted her gaze from the paddle to Mrs. Aaronson's face. "Yes. Show me
that you're willing to accept the challenge," Mrs. Aaronson told the
girl. "Lift your bottom higher. Really display it; show it off. It's
quite pretty. The men seem to be in love with it. I'm not going to
damage it too badly, just give it a little color. Ready for the next
stroke?"
"No," Emily said. Mrs. Aaronson laughed. "I think you are,"
she said to the girl. "I can see it in your eyes."
"Eeeeyow!" Emily shouted, closing her eyes and launching her
head up high, stretching her neck, when the paddle came crashing down.
Desperately she squeezed and rotated her bottom. Stan, lifting the
ladle from the bucket again, threw more water on the oven, as with his
other hand he squeezed and fondled Mike's balls.
"Oh God, I think I'm going to cum!" Mike gasped, watching
Emily's torment as he clutched at both Stan and Joe, Stan's hand giving
him as good as it got, the two of them trying to urge the other to shoot
first.
"Another one, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson warned the girl. She
brought the paddle down again, hitting Emily a third time. Emily
screeched and made a new display with her bottom, arching it higher than
ever, after the paddle had rebounded off it, tears now appearing on the
cheeks of her face. Still holding the paddle, Mrs. Aaronson took a step
forward. She bent down, her lovely breasts shuddering as she touched a
finger to Emily's behind. The girl flinched. Through tear-filled eyes
she gaped backward at the woman and then let out a frightened sigh as
Mrs. Aaronson sought the well-displayed lips of her cunt. "My, but
you're becoming wet, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson said, feeling the moisture
that had oozed out of Emily's sex to dampen and lubricate the lips of
her pussy. Then, to the girl's even greater surprise, the young wife
lifted her cunt-wettened finger and touched Emily between the
well-spread cheeks of her ass. Her aim was direct and without shame.
She poked Emily right in her bottom hole! The girl gave a shout; her
slightly opened nether hole contracted in alarm. Unable to actually
penetrate the suddenly tightened hole, Mrs. Aaronson made Emily wince by
patting her reddened right cheek. "We will see to that foolishly tight
little hole of yours upstairs in the guest room," Mrs. Aaronson said to
Emily. "With luck I will shove something into you there even as my
husband gives Bill a fuck in the ass. How delightful it would be to do
the two of you together, my hubby fucking Bill as I open you." Mrs.
Aaronson took her finger away. Emily watched as the woman raised the
paddle up again; she bit her lower lip. The young wife looked into her
eyes. She smiled; but it was deceptive, for even as the smile spread
over her lips she brought the paddle down again.
"Yohoohoo!" Emily wailed. Her young bottom heaved and clenched
under the sting of the wood. It was awful, and yet it was as nothing
compared with the threat of the dark-haired woman to shove something up
into her guts. Emily felt a sudden wetness splash hotly across her
stinging behind. She looked up; had one of the men, unable to endure
the squeezing of his balls, suddenly spurted? To Emily's horror she
traced a stream of liquid upward to the penis it was coming from. It
was Joe, who was closest to her, and in his excitement he was suddenly
peeing!
"How sweet of you, Joe. Perhaps it will cool down Emily's
naughty bottom," Mrs. Aaronson said to the young man. The look of alarm
on Joe's face softened. He had not intended, Emily realized, to let
loose of his bladder that way, it had just happened; perhaps as a last
resort to avoid losing the contents of his balls. But now, seeing that
peeing would hold no penalty, the other two men resolved to give
themselves some relief. Both of them stood up abruptly and, still
holding each other by the balls, Stan and Mike eagerly peed on Emily's
upraised bottom. In fact they aimed for the very spot Mrs. Aaronson had
promised to violate; they placed their streams squarely on Emily's
bottom hole!
"Yeeek!" Emily howled. She was about to reach back with her
hands and try to defend herself, but Mrs. Aaronson ordered her not to.
"Stay just as you are, Emily, or you'll feel the paddle as
never before," Mrs. Aaronson warned the girl. So Emily, mortification
showing in her face, was forced to remain kneeling with her bottom
displayed as the men peed into her crack. This of course gave her
reddened cheeks little relief, save for what splashed inadvertently onto
them, for the men's pee, having hit her square on her bottom hole, ran
down between her legs, drenching her cunt and then the insides of her
thighs. When the men had finished Stan tossed another ladle of water
onto the oven. Stream clouds were filling the room now, making the air
inside heavy with droplets of water. Beads of sweat coated everyone's
skin, but Mrs. Aaronson wasn't ready to relax yet. She gave Emily
another stroke of the paddle, the hardest yet. The girl shouted; her
bottom wiggled with pain. "I love two things, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson
said to the girl, as she waited for her screams to subside and her ass
to regain its poise. "Comfort, of which I demand the very best, for
myself and for my guests. And one other thing, which some might regard
as exclusive of the first; torture." This brought Emily's head round
again, and she stared with frightened rapture at her hostess. "Yes,
Emily," Mrs. Aaronson laughed. "I am as demanding in regards to torture
as I am in regards to comfort. But get up now. I will make no further
demands on your bottom at the moment." Mrs. Aaronson hung the paddle
back up on the peg on the wall. Emily rose and clutched her bottom,
wincing as she did so. Mrs. Aaronson, with a smirk, handed Emily a
folded towel. The girl placed it on the bench next to Joe and gingerly
sat down on it. Then Mrs. Aaronson turned and opened a metal door in
the wall of the sauna. It proved to be the door to a refrigerator. The
unit itself sat outside, rather like a room air conditioner sits beyond
the wall of house, only the front part projecting into the room it is
intended to cool. Mrs. Aaronson asked the men what beer they
preferred. Surprised, the men told her their favorites; Mrs. Aaronson
passed out bottles, opening them with a bottle opener that sat in the
fridge. Emily she gave a bottle of Seven-Up to. The girl drank it
greedily. She was thirsty from her exertions.
Drinking their beers, the men let go of each other's balls.
There was something unmanly about having a beer while holding the crotch
of another man. Mrs. Aaronson laughed but didn't scold the men for
their newfound embarrassment. Instead she got a frosted glass out of
the fridge. It had water in it, and she took a small packet containing
unused Alka-Seltzer tablets out of the fridge. Indeed there was much
more than just the usual items in the refrigerator. Emily, glancing up
from her soda, saw condoms and a bottle of lubricant. The fridge served
as a kind of makeshift cabinet, despite being chilled. Anything that
might be needed, that was small enough to fit, might be found inside it.
Mrs. Aaronson unwrapped the Alka-Seltzer tablets. There were
two of them, and she dropped them into the glass of water. There was a
fizzing sound. Emily saw bubbles rise rapidly in the glass. Suddenly
the young wife knelt down on the floor. She grabbed Stan's dick and, as
the young man shouted over his beer, she shoved his erect penis downward
into the glass.
"Yow!" Stan cried, for the effect of the bubbles rushing
suddenly upward all around his penis was electric. Not all of his
lengthy shaft could fit in the glass, but the part that could felt
suddenly like spending. Not only was the water ice cold, in contrast to
the steamy heat of the room, but the bubbles felt like they were trying
to pry their way into his pee hole.
Mrs. Aaronson held Stan in the glass until the bubbling of the
Alka-Seltzer tablets subsided. Then, without changing the water, she
took two more tablets from the fridge, unwrapped them, and dropped them
into the glass. With the contents of the glass suddenly bubbling as
furiously as ever, she moved to Mike. He felt his dick grabbed and
submerged; the idea that he was being put in the same water that had
soaked Stan's penis seemed to unnerve him.
"Hey, couldn't you at least have rinsed that glass out first?"
Mike asked Mrs. Aaronson.
"No, Mike, for if I asked you to all go skinny dipping in the
pool you would all be sharing the same water with your naked dicks," the
young wife answered. She smiled as she watched Mike brought to the
brink of spending by the bubbles. Then she pulled him free of the
glass, and, leaving him to drip on the floor, added two more tablets and
moved to Joe.
"No, please!" Joe gasped. But in his cock went, directed and
held there by Mrs. Aaronson. He gritted his teeth with desire. It was
clear that the little bubbles, not to mention the thought of sharing the
same water that the other two men's penises had been in, was driving him
crazy.
"Don't spurt," Mrs. Aaronson warned the young man. "If you do
you'll have to leave or join my husband upstairs."
Somehow, all three men survived the glass with its wicked
bubbles. But Mrs. Aaronson was just getting started. She opened the
refrigerator and took out a lipstick sized tube of Natural Ice. She
applied it to all three men's cocks in turn, laving the waxy substance
over the skin of their penises, leaving them in agony as the Ice turned
to heat upon them, made worse by the steam of the sauna. When the men
had managed to endure that trick, Mrs. Aaronson had one more. She
emptied the glass that had the used Alka-Seltzer in it onto the coals of
the oven. Then she filled the glass with ice chips from the freezer
part of the refrigerator. The chips were small enough in size, like
snow, to allow a penis to be shoved down in amongst them. Mrs. Aaronson
started with Stan, and worked her way slowly down the benchful of men.
"Oh you poor guys," Mrs. Aaronson said, with mock sympathy. Once more
the three men nearly lost themselves. But again, much to their
surprise, they survived even this torment. Perhaps it was the thought
of having Mr. Aaronson's penis in their behinds that kept them from
losing themselves.
"The key to torture is to linger," Mrs. Aaronson said, when she
had finished plunging Mike's cock in and out of the glass with the ice
chips. She looked at Emily, sitting on the towel with her legs a little
apart, showing the wettened lips of her cunt. "Imagine being tied down
over a pillow, Emily, your bottom high, your cunt embarrassingly wet
with your excitement as a man with a big penis, perhaps several men,
taught your young bottom about shitting. Have you ever shitted with
your ass stuck up high, as if for the whip?" the young wife asked
Emily. The girl shook her head 'no'. Obviously she hadn't. Who would
ever think of pooping anyplace but in the privacy of a toilet bowl, her
surprised eyes seemed to say. "Ah, Emily, you have much to learn," Mrs.
Aaronson told the girl. "And to think if you hadn't met me, you might
never have learned about all the erotic possibilities of a
well-displayed ass."
Claire looked up from her computer screen. The sun floated red
on the horizon, the view of it safely dimmed by a darkening of her
window glass.
"Tch. This is a howwible stowy," Claire said, mangling her
words as she spoke them in sudden ire. "To think that she's going to be
made to go to the bathroom for the enjoyment of wicked men and their
boners!" By some grand coincidence, her twin brother, in his own
bedroom, was reading the exact same story and was at the same place in
it.
"Oh man!" the boy said, rubbing his dick under his bedcovers as
he read about Mrs. Aaronson's proposed torments for Emily. "I'll bet
she jams some fluid up her ass! And then as Emily squeezes to try to
hold it in, the lady makes one of the guys fuck her! Imagine how tight
she'll be, struggling not to make a mess with her bottom!"
"Tommeee!" the boy's mother called out. The shock of hearing
his mother's voice caused the boy to lose control of himself. Spurrrt,
went his sperm, all along the length of his thighs.
"Oh shit!" Tommy yelled. His mother knocked on his bedroom
door. "Tommy, did I hear you use a swear word? What are you doing in
there?"
"Nothing, mother, just finishing my homework!" Tommy yelled.
Claire, ensconced in her own bedroom, knew she should begin getting
ready for school. But the horrific nature of the story had mesmerized
her. She had to read just a little more. She hoped it would be about
the torments the men suffered, and not anything involving the girl who
was almost her own age. She looked again at the screen.
AND IN THE END...
"My... favorite book... [is] Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, the
greatest novel ever written."
- Ben Stein, The Week, June 15, 2001, pg. 32.
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
-- More stories at: http://groups.google.com/ Search by typing:
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Change "standard" archive to "complete" archive.
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-- Great art books by David Hamilton and Jock Sturges are at:
http://www.amazon.com http://bn.com (photos of naked little girls)
-- Naked little girls/politics: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Man/boy love: http://www.nambla.de Politics: http://www.lp.org
http://www.isil.org http://www.fear.org http://www.fija.org
http://www.aclu.org
-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. Dreamgirls, Naughty Naked
Dreamgirls, and NND are registered trademarks of Andrew Roller.
All rights reserved.
-- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html
Or at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/www/index.html
(It is case sensitive, i.e. type Roller, not roller).
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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