Date: Mon, 1 Nov 2004 06:06:32 -0800 (PST)
From: ybother1122@yahoo.com
Subject: Good Girl 9

This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you
either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or
C) can't read, you should really stop here. If you liked (or hated) this
story, drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you
read here too seriously, we certainly didn't.



Heather sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and closed her eyes
while Denise brushed her hair. Denise leaned over to kiss the back of
Heather's neck.

Denise was already dressed -- sort of. She wore a short tank dress and it
looked like she should be wearing something else underneath it. Its knit
was so loose it reminded Heather of one of her mother's macrame plant
hangers, and she could clearly see Denise's tanned, toned skin, the full
curve of her breasts underneath. When she moved, one of her erect nipples
poked through the loose stitch of the knit, and Heather couldn't help
but to lean in and grab it between her lips.

"Mmmm...stop for a minute. I got you a present," she whispered into
Heather's ear. "Close your eyes."

Heather flopped backward on the bed and covered her eyes with her hands.
She could hear Denise digging through bags in the closet.

"Keep them closed. No peeking!" More rustling of paper bags, then
Heather felt Denise's hands on her bare knees, creeping up her thighs.
Denise tugged Heather's tee shirt to expose her soft, flat abdomen,
which she covered with kisses.

"Keep them closed," Denise whispered, as she pulled Heather's tee
shirt up and off. Heather felt something soft, almost like air, brush
across her skin.

"Open them now."

She looked up at Denise, who was smiling, then looked down, and saw that
Denise had laid a dress on top of her.

"Put it on."

Heather got up off the bed and peeled off her shorts. She'd given up on
wearing panties days ago. She slipped the dress over her head, and it
fell perfectly on her. She looked in the mirror and admired herself for a
moment. She felt naked, not only because the dress was short, falling to
the middle of her thigh, and it was so light she could barely feel it,
she could see through the ice blue fabric.

"Beautiful," Denise said. "You'll look beautiful tonight. Everyone
will want you."

Denise's compliments were weightier than anyone else's, and Heather
could feel her cheeks flush. Denise stood behind Heather, looking over
her shoulder to watch her reflection.

"Is that OK if everyone wants you?" Denise asked, reaching her arms
around the girl and tracing the shadow of her breasts.

Heather giggled.

"I guess that's OK."



Downstairs, guests were talking and laughing. Outside, at the edge of the
beach, a group of naked guests had left their clothes and sandals on the
sand while they splashed in the waves. Out on the deck, a perfect pink
sunset cast perfect pink light on a perfectly chiseled shirtless
bartender with a perfectly ripped and tanned abdomen perfectly mixed
drinks, and he shook up a perfect Manhattan for Denise before asking
Heather what she wanted.

She had never ordered a drink -- they had always been handed to her, and
she never had to think about what she wanted. The first thing that came
to her mind was one of those pretty pink cocktails from Sex and the City,
and she said, "I'd like a Cosmopolitan."

It didn't taste pink when she sipped on it, but after she had sucked
down her second, she acquired a taste for them.

In the great room, she talked to Kitten, who was sipping a bottle of
water, and Heather felt suddenly self-conscious of the growing liquor
buzz. She tried to make small talk.

"So, how did you meet Catherine?" she asked.

"We met through the Service," Kitten said.

"Service?"

"The Service connects subs with doms throughout the Northern Hemisphere.
She contracted with them and I fit her profile," she said. "We
interviewed and she took me on."

"Took you on?"

Kitten took a swig of her water, "I am her Kitten. I am her pet. I am
naked at all times in her home and I do what she wants."

Heather coughed up her last swallow of her drink, "Whatever she wants?"

"There are things she demands. There are plenty of times when she orders
me out of the limousine to pick up a copy of the Post in the nude,
that's pretty ordinary. A lot of times she serves canapes off of my
abdomen and thighs when she has a party at her house. But what I've
found is that it's intuition."

"Intuition?"

"Yes," Kitten said. "I need to know what she wants before she asks for
it. I need to know, right off the bat when she walks in the door, whether
she wants a silent partner, the tearful submissive or the affection of an
equal. It's tricky. You've really got to watch to know what to do."

Heather was half horrified, half intrigued. She wondered what kind of
life was entailed in waiting on the sexual needs of another person. She
could barely contain the flood of questions.

Kitten interrupted her reverie, "The Service sends a conditioning team
every week. They check on me, give me tips on beauty care and usually
make me come like a schoolgirl three times before they leave."

"That's nice," Heather said, for lack of anything else to say.

"The Congress-level healthcare, 401k and $150,000 a year tax-free are
part of the contract."

She introduced Heather to Rose, and deeply tanned and obviously wealthy
American woman in her mid-40s, and Rose's companion, James, also
American, but in his late 20s. Heather was sure that if Denise were
there, she'd have whispered something about Rose having had "work"
done, and would have suggested she might have gone a cup size smaller
when she had her implants and lift.

Instead, Kitten whispered in her ear.

"James is like me," she told Heather, who had no idea what she meant.

"You know -- he works for Rose."

Kitten stopped talking suddenly and her ears perked up even before she
heard Catherine call for her. Without a word, Kitten just walked away to
see what Catherine needed, and Heather found standing alone with her
cocktail, in a room full of unfamiliar people. She watched their mouths
as they spoke in languages she didn't understand. She looked toward the
stairway and watched as a pretty young blonde woman kiss a dark-skinned
woman with very short hair and enormous silver hoop earrings. On the
sofa, the admiral kissed a busty topless redhead who sat beside the
admiral's wife, who was busying herself in a deep kiss with a
dark-haired man Heather hadn't seen before this evening.

She felt someone grab her behind and she gasped and turned quickly to see
Steven standing there, his free hand on Denise's shoulder.

"Having a good time?" he asked and Heather felt better because she knew
he was also a little lightheaded from alcohol. Steven rubbed her ass a
little more firmly.

"This is a great dress," he said. "And this is a great ass. Denise,
isn't this a great ass?"

"Mmm hmmm." Denise nodded. "Very nice."

"Isn't this a great ass?" Steven asked again, and an unfamiliar voice
said, "Oh yes, wery, wery nice."

"You really need to feel this," Steven told the man. Heather didn't
turn to see whose hands were on her, but she could feel herself grow warm
from the stranger's touch, as he pushed the fabric of her dress up and
down against her otherwise bare behind.

Denise stood in front of Heather, and reached for her face with both
hands before kissing her.

"Have fun, dear," she said, then grabbed Steven's hand and headed out
to the patio.

The stranger had wrapped one arm around Heather's waist, and she pressed
her ass against his bare thigh.

He whispered in her ear. "Oh you like that, do you? You like to be pet,
yes?" He pushed her dress up past her waist and he moved a hand down to
slide a finger between her moist warm folds. "Oh yes, you do like
that."

The other hand reached for a breast, still covered by the light blue
dress and she pressed harder against his thigh. A quiet moan was building
in her belly and slipped out of her mouth.

"Tell me what you vant," the stranger said. "Just tell me."

She couldn't believe what came out of her mouth next. "Fuck me."

She fell to her knees and buried her face into the soft white carpet, her
hair falling onto her forearms. She heard his shorts fall to the floor
and could see his knees hit the carpet right behind her, and pushed his
cock against the back of her thigh.

"Tell me again," he said, pressing harder.

She wasn't sure if it was the liquor talking or if it was the lust or it
was the bare skin of strangers but she said it again. "Fuck me."

She felt his hands on her waist and he pushed his thick cock inside her.
"So tight," he told her. "Yes, that's nice. You like that don't
you?"

It struck her as odd for a moment that he couldn't call her by name if
he wanted to and he had not yet seen her face. And she hadn't seen his.
He was just hands on her skin and a cock pushing inside her. But she
loved the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on her waist. He
let go to rub her ass, which she pushed harder toward him. "Oh yes, you
vant it rough, don't you?"

"Uh-huh," was all she could manage, so he pushed deeper. Harder. Faster
inside her. She could feel the tension build inside her but his built
faster, and she heard him moan as he grabbed her waist again and pushed
himself into her so hard it hurt.

"Oh yesssss," he said, but she thought, Oh noooo.

Until she saw two tanned pedicured feet in front of her. She looked up to
see Denise, holding hands with a man. Tall, 30-ish, naked and apparently
aroused.

"I thought you might be ready for more, so I brought you another
present," Denise said, and she dropped the man's hand and headed back
outside.

The man lay flat on his back, his erection pointed desperately toward the
ceiling. He spoke to Heather, but in a language she didn't understand.
He motioned toward his cock with his hands, and she understood -- it
needed to be dealt with.

She lay on her back next to him, but he didn't move. She had expected
him to climb on top of her, but he motioned again toward his turgid cock.

She got on her knees and kneeled between his legs, and licked the
underside of his cock, but he grabbed her hair and spoke the only word of
English he knew: "No."

Heather slid her body up along his thigh, and as her breasts brushed
against his cock, he moaned. She knew what he wanted. He tugged at her
dress, pulling it up and off, and she straddled him, letting her warm
wetness rub lightly against his member, and he closed his eyes and
smiled.

She lowered herself onto him and he let out another moan. Slowly, she
rocked, grinding her self against him. He put his hands on her thighs and
squeezed hard. Even though she didn't understand what he said, the tone
of his voice begged her not to stop.

He was beautiful, she thought -- fair haired and angular. Dark eyes and
long limbs. And he was ready to finish what the first stranger had
started.

She rocked slowly, unsure of what she wanted, and totally clueless about
what he was feeling, but as his breathing grew faster and he pushed his
ass up from the floor to drive deeper into her, she knew she was pleasing
him as much as herself.

She moved faster, shifted her hips and pressed her hands hard on his
shoulders. He reached around her, his hands on the small of her back
pulling her down toward him until her breasts were over his face. She
brushed a nipple against his lips, and he opened his mouth. She moved
side to side and finally fed him a breast, while she continued to grind
harder against him.

The tension that had built in her before grew, and she could feel herself
getting close, so close to release.

She couldn't speak but her moans escalated to near screams. Only when
she pulled her nipple from his mouth and lifted her head to look around
did she realize that a small circle of guests had gathered around them.
Most merely watched. She saw a dark-haired man from the corner of her
eye. His shorts lay in front of him and his large hands moved slowly over
his erect cock as he watched Heather and the stranger.

His body was thick, and his wavy hair had just enough gray to tell
Heather he was old enough to be her father. His eyes fixed on her,
soaking in the sight of her breasts, high and small and bouncing, and her
ass, firm and fresh and newly suntanned.

Unlike the night on the beach, Heather knew now that people were watching
her, and that fed her arousal. She looked the dark haired man with his
cock in his hand, directly in the eye, and moved her hips faster until
she shuddered and cried out. The stranger beneath her pulled her down
hard on him, and let out a moan at the same time, but Heather didn't
wait for his body to stop shaking before she rolled herself off him, and
lay flat on her back beside him.

She looked directly at the dark haired man, who was still stroking his
cock, and said, "You -- I want you next."


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