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Naughty Naked Dreamgirls #29: Chambers of Love
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Twenty-Eight
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Sixteen
We followed the count downstairs and into the parlor. We were fully
dressed, ready to go. It felt strange to be wearing clothing again.
Suddenly my eyes fell upon a familiar countenance, and bust. It was
Helga!
It's funny how someone you once convinced yourself to hate can come back
into your life and make you feel good. I was truly delighted to see her,
as was Julie. It was as if we'd matured a bit during our month at the
count's (me especially), and there were no chips lingering on my shoulder
against her. We chatted gaily. She asked if she could join us on the
road. We said we wanted to see a bit more of Europe before we returned to
America, and we really needed her to guide us. She accepted the offer,
said she'd be our "chaperone." We laughed.
For all his efforts with the whip, the count had never gotten around to
actually fucking me. He gazed at me as Julie and Helga and I stood before
him a final time, bags in hand, ready to depart. He'd given us the loan
of a bright red Lamborghini for our travels.
"God, I was so impressed with your ravishing beauty that I held off on
fucking you, foolishly, I suppose, considering that others proved less
restrained," the count mused.
"Well, you had your crack at her," Helga admonished.
"Quite a few," I said, absently giving my tushy a quick rub. Then I
stepped forward and modestly bussed him on the cheek. "Goodbye," I
smiled. He made to kiss me on the lips but coyly I withdrew.
"You are welcome any time," he urged.
"I know," I replied. We left him then, standing in his great stone hall.
As we pulled away I knew I would never be back. He was too old, after
all, too lonely and morose. I felt sorry for him then. He was the true
captive in his castle. Girls like myself remained free and unfettered,
alighting there for a moment, perhaps, to receive some needed discipline,
then leaving.
I was more confident about myself now, about my body, after staying the
month at the count's. I had arrived a snub-nosed mall rat, self-centered
and sassy. Now I felt I was a young lady. I was eager to experience the
world on these new terms, as a full-fledged young woman. Little did I
know that Helga had already planned for our first stop to fulfill my
wishes.
We spent most of the day idly tooling along back roads towards Germany.
We crossed the border at sunset. Helga said she thought it wise for us to
economize where we could. There was a youth hostel nearby, she said, run
by a particular sect of the Mennonites. "Celebrating God and nature as
one," was their slogan. It sounded like something David Koresh might have
dreamed up. Their hostel had several unique features to it that were not
to be missed, Helga said. Julie and I agreed we'd spend the night. It
was another one of those situations where curiosity got the best of us.
Fortunately we both seemed to have nine lives.
In a forest of ash and black alder stood, by itself, a modest wooden
building. After our stay at the count's it seemed rudely spartan. Its
architecture was that of the saltbox, namely, four walls and a roof, with
a chimney. Weathered clapboards covered its exterior. We parked out
back, in a grassy clearing. I knew we were in for a rustic time when
Helga parked within yards of an outhouse. There were no uniformed footmen
to help us in with our bags. We trundled in with them ourselves and,
finding the front desk, were assigned a room.
One bedroom would have to suffice for all three of us, the clerk said.
She was a woman wearing a hood and cloak that reminded me of a nun's
habit, though more medieval. Helga replied that such an arrangement was
fine. We lugged our bags upstairs. Julie and I exchanged glances, but
said nothing. The stairs to the second floor creaked under our footsteps.
There was no hand rail. The walls were uniformly bare.
"Helga, you forgot to get the key," I piped up suddenly as we headed down
a hallway.
"Won't need one," Helga replied. "Just take what you want out of your
bags, whatever isn't valuable, and then we'll lock the rest back up in the
trunk of our car."
"You mean our room won't have a lock on the door?" Julie asked.
"Nope," Helga replied. "I told you this youth hostel was somewhat
unique."
Our bedroom proved to be a small cubicle furnished with a single bed. It
had a brightly polished brass headboard and footboard. But it creaked
when you sat down on it. From much use, Helga said. There was a slight
bow in the middle, as if to urge its sleeping occupants closer together.
There was also a wooden stool, which had been placed in front of a mirror,
where one could apply one's makeup. And there was a closet, with built-in
shelving at one end. Other than that the room was empty. Helga said that
the bathroom was down the hall.
"The entire building has only one bathroom, and one shower," Helga said.
"So don't be surprised if you see a man in there. And it's quite likely
that someone will jump in the shower with you. But you need not be
alarmed. We are all equals here, fellow travellers." I was beginning to
get a glimmer of what the hostel's 'unique features' might consist of.
Helga began unbuttoning her blouse. "Clothing is optional, so I'm going
to take advantage of such a lenient policy and get out of these things
I've been wearing all day." She matter-of-factly stripped down to a pair
of nothing panties as Julie and I watched, fidgeting, wishing we could
occupy ourselves somehow. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to
do in this hostel. Save one.
"While we ARE assigned this room, you may go into any room you choose, at
any time. None of them can be locked," Helga said.
"But what if-what if someone is having sex with their boyfriend?" Julie
asked.
"She will probably invite you to join her," Helga smiled. And I realized
that the one thing you could do in abundance here was have sex. Raw sex
with total strangers. I shivered. I felt a little less confident in my
young ladyhood. In my assessment of myself as a full-fledged woman.
Standing in her skimpy panties before us Helga filled us in on the final,
more mundane details about the hostel. "Dinner is at ten-thirty for late
arrivals like ourselves. Then there's breakfast at eight, lunch at noon,
and the main dinner at six p.m. Its a communal dinner downstairs in the
great room. Buffet style, just help yourself. There's an above ground
wooden pool out back. It's not heated, so be prepared for a chilly
entrance. I'll see you in a bit. I'm going for a swim in my panties."
Carefree and topless, a small towel draped over her shoulders, Helga
sauntered out of our bedroom. I watched her rolling bottom cheeks
shifting within her tight little undies as she left. I turned to Julie.
"Well, it's clean, at least, immaculately clean," I said.
"Yes, the hostel may creak when you walk up its steps but at least the
steps are well swept," Julie replied. "Would you join me in the shower?
I'd like to have at least one person I know in there with me."
"Okay," I said. I pulled off my top.
"Let's keep on our panties," Julie advised. "I'm not sure I want to be
totally nude in a shower that just anyone can walk into."
"Good idea," I said.
"We can always pull them down to our knees to wash ourselves between our
legs. And then we can pull them back up."
"Yes."
For reassurance we took each other by the hand for our trip to the
shower. We slung towels around our necks and placed the ends artfully
over our bare titties. Then we started down the hall.
Suddenly a female scream rent the air, from behind a closed door. It was
followed by plaintive cries for help. Instinctively Julie tried the
doorknob, thinking it would prove to be locked. Instead it turned and the
door swung open easily on its hinges.
"Oh, yes! Oh, yes!" the same female voice cried out now. With gaping
eyes we found ourselves staring at a beautiful young woman being fucked up
both ends by two hardy men. They pumped her with abandon, yet one managed
to glance over at us.
"Forgive her, it's her first time," he said, not missing a stroke as he
spoke to us. Blearily the girl looked over and invited us to come in.
Then she bowed her head and worked her hips more vigorously, joining in
the act of her own deflowerment. She rode the man who had spoken to us.
He lay beneath her, thrusting up into her cunt. At her ass a second man,
pumping furiously. I wondered how it could be her first time ever, then
realized they might mean her first time taking two pricks at once.
Julie and I turned and left, thanking them politely. I did not notice
that, in blanching at the sight, my towel ends had fallen from my breasts.
Julie too now sported a brightly visible pair of cherry nipples, their
stems rising. Together we continued on toward the bathroom, clad only in
red panties that were a size too small.
As we approached the door to the bathroom a man stepped out, totally
nude. I couldn't help glancing at his cock, which was large and swung
easily between his legs. He followed my eyes.
"You must be new here," he said. Julie and I both nodded. He kept
walking, mentioned that the shower water was warm for a change, bid us to
have a pleasant bath. Then he was gone.
Gratefully we found that the small tiled room that served as a gang
shower was empty. A bar of soap sat in a tray by one of the dripping
nozzles. Julie fetched it and turned on a shower head. I turned on a
second one and we began to soap ourselves with our hands.
I had my panties down around my knees and was washing my bottom when a
totally naked young man and woman stepped in, hand in hand. They smiled
at us and the woman suppressed a giggle with her hand. I knew she was
laughing at my attempt at modesty, my panties. I blushed.
"I guess I look kinda geeky, huh?" I asked.
"Yes, but it's alright," she said as she and her friend turned on a
nozzle and began washing each other. "Everyone has misgivings when they
first arrive." Her hands went to her paramour's penis and she began
lathering it. He was erect, balls tightly drawn up. "You will find that
no one will ever force you, unless you want them to. We are all very
casual, very open here. People come and go and you meet new ones all the
time. Everyone is cleared in advance for their beauty and as being free
from disease." She regarded Julie in her red panties. "You two must have
someone else with you, eh? Someone who arranged your stay?" We nodded,
said it was Helga. "You see? Your friend sent in the paperwork for you.
So now you know how it is done. If you want to be forced there is a
woodshed out back. Just beyond the pool. You can invite someone to take
you there for a whipping. Or just go there, it's well used. Someone will
give you what you need. Otherwise you needn't worry about being pushed
into anything you don't want to do. So relax, take off your panties.
It's a rare thing to be able to feel so uninhibited, especially amongst
strangers."
We followed her advice and drew our panties down our legs. We looped
them over a shower head and continued washing. Our new friend washed only
her boyfriend's penis. He concentrated solely on her titties and cunt.
Soon they were both moaning ecstatically, and they kept on repeatedly
washing the same areas. Fortunately they'd brought their own soap, or
we'd never have gotten hold of the bar again if we'd lent them ours.
We rinsed, replaced the soap in its tray for another to use, and bid our
fellow couple goodbye. They mumbled back, straining on the brink of
orgasm yet trying to shudderingly hold themselves in. I admired their
control. As Julie and I dried off they successfully eased themselves off
the edge of orgasm. Then the woman let go of her husband's quivering tool
and walked over to where we'd stood bathing.
"You forgot your panties," she said, taking them down from the nozzles
for us. She gave them to us and we thanked her. Then she padded back to
her husband and asked if he were ready again. He agreed and they began
soaping each other's genitals once more.
***
At dinner Julie and I met another couple who had just arrived. They had
visited before, said it was one of the high points of their trip to
Europe.
"Everyone is so nice here," the woman, a luscious Australian with big
boobs, said. Her husband, a trapper from the outback, nodded. "My
husband is so vigorous. He outlasts me every time. He needs to be able
to come to a place where he can totally exhaust himself for a change."
She said it was their second trip, but they hoped to come many more times.
I believed her about her husband. He looked like Crocodile Dundee, but
with a massive chest. I trembled at the thought of him exhausting himself
on me.
Many of the diners were naked. Julie and I still clung to our panties,
as the faithful to some religious talisman. But we were bold enough to go
topless now, without towels. "Croc," as I nicknamed him, spent the meal
enjoying the swaying of our boobs. He himself was naked, with a partially
erect cock that already would rival many men's in size. His wife, also
nude, had the body of a sex pin-up, but she displayed it
unselfconsciously. Both of them seemed without pretension, despite their
obvious beauty in a crowd that was already selected on the basis of
possessing just such an attribute. A nice lot, the Australians, I
thought. We could use more of them in America.
"Why don't you join us in our room?" Beth, our Aussie dinner companion,
asked when we were finished eating. Julie and I considered a moment and
said we would. There wasn't much else to do, that was for sure. We
grabbed some rolls and cheese for Helga, who apparently had decided to
continue her swim.
Chatting casually we mounted the creaking staircase to the second floor.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Croc's organ stiffening. He was
fully erect by the time we'd reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
We talked about the nice weather as we strolled down the hall, then we
arrived at their door and they opened it, letting us in.
Another bare room, furnished only with a big brass bed. And a stool. On
the stool had been placed KY jelly, some colored condoms, a jar of
petroleum jelly. I went over to it and daintily made room for Helga's
rolls, tied up in a linen napkin.
The bed had been turned back, and its sheets looked cool and inviting
after our long day on the road. There was no place else to sit, so with
Beth taking the lead we all plopped down onto their bed. It bounced as we
each sat, the springs well worn from years of (no doubt vigorous) use.
Beth scolded Croc for his erection. Julie complimented it, saying it
appeared to be a very fine instrument. I agreed.
Beth laughed. "Why don't you untie your panties, girls?" she softly
suggested. "We're not at dinner anymore." Julie and I stood and faced
them. Why we felt this was necessary I do not know, but I sultrily undid
my ties and then let my undies drop to the floor. I regarded them there a
moment, as if debating whether to pick them up, then gave my hair a toss
and sat back down on the bed. Julie also made a little production of the
removal of her panties, then nonchalantly took her place on the bed again.
We conversed pleasantly for several minutes, our glances becoming ever
more seductive, the topics racier. I ran my hands along my thighs. I
spread them slightly. Julie touched a finger to her throat, then between
her breasts. Beth tugged absently at her pubic hair. Croc leaned back on
his elbows and, discussing mating habits in the outback, gently thrust his
cock into the air repeatedly. We girls giggled at this, fascinated.
Beth stepped gracefully from the bed. "I hope you don't mind, but when
he does that it means he wants his dick oiled," she said. Then she smiled
at us. "His fine instrument." We blushed.
She got the KY jelly and laved it on with her hands. We asked if we
could help.
"Two pair of hands are better than one," she said gaily. "But since we
have three, one of you better concentrate on his balls." I chose to take
his testes, found them full and tight. After a bit Beth switched with me
and I got a chance to finger his throbbing penis, sharing it with Julie.
I squirted more KY jelly onto my fingers and rubbed him some more. My
bare breasts danced before his eyes.
"What will you do with yourself when you're all lubed up?" I asked.
"Take a cold shower, no doubt," he replied.
"Oh, you needn't do that," Julie said. "There's plenty of room in here
for a wet, hard cock."
"I think I'd best turn the sheets and covers all the way down," Beth said
quietly. She rose from the bed and prepared it so that only the
stretch-sheet upon which we sat remained. The cover sheet and bedspread
were bundled in a neat roll at the foot of the bed. Julie and I, finished
now, wiped off our oil-slathered hands on Dan's hairy thighs, just as Beth
had wiped hers a moment ago on his back.
The room was pleasantly warm. We were perched on a kind of mat now, and
there could be little doubt of its use. Beth got back on the bed, on her
knees. She gazed at Julie and I.
"Shall we get started?" she asked sweetly.
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
NEWSWEEK GETS IT WRONG
(Again)
by holy joe
In an article on page 8 titled "Sex on the Net," the June 26th Newsweek
states: "...the Communications Decency Act...which would impose fines or
prison terms for anyone distributing obscene material over a computer
network." Actually, as you know, the terminology imposed is much more
draconian than that. It is, specifically, "obscene, lewd, lascivious,
filthy or indecent" "Obscene" is something that you cannot publish at any
time, in any format. "Indecent" is Beverly Hills 90210. Once again
Newsweek is slanting the news to make the imposition of a police state on
America palatable to its readers.
Fortunately, if you dig through the magazine you will eventually come
upon an editorial by Steven Levy (pg. 47). After reciting the usual
bullshit distinctions about "children" vs. "adults" (a distinction based
not on actual experience but on revolutions of the earth around the sun),
he writes the following:
"Also criminalized are communications deemed 'annoying.'" In other
words, if you complain to Senator Exon (about anything) he can now put you
in prison! (Under this bill.)
Levy also throws light on the fact that the Internet is a threat to the
newly-deregulated cable, phone, movie, and television companies. Note
that, UNDER THIS BILL, cable companies ARE allowed to sell "explicit"
programming. Meanwhile, you and I go to jail for writing about the same
thing. Is this because the cable companies made large cash donations to
Senator Exon, while you and I could not afford to? So if you write about
sex with your wife, within the context of marriage, you go to prison for
two years and are fined $100,000. Meanwhile, Scum U.S.A. is permitted to
sell explicit, non-stop, gut-wrenching, explicit porn, courtesy of your
local cable, satellite, T.V., and telephone company.
THANKS, Senator Exon. Now we KNOW where your true interests lie.
Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: [email protected] Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls
minicomics: send a greeting-card SASE, age statement to: Jim Corrigan,
P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A. Naughty Naked Dreamgirls
(Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427). Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF
29 EMISSION
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