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Subject: {ASSM} holy joe's Guide for Groupies
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- NND ---------------------------------------------------------
Visit my FTP site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/ <--click
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holy joe's Guide for Groupies
As an Internet Sex God, I realize that it's possible I might
attract groupies.
(Okay, truth in advertising:) As a geeky little masturbator, I
realize it's possible I might attract groupies. Admittedly the only
prospective groupie I've had so far has been a 75-year-old gay man who
was into bondage, but hope springs eternal. Therefore, it's incumbent
for me to provide a Guide. I don't want to needlessly dash anyone's
hopes.
First, I am only interested in girls. Not women, and not
retirees who are into bondage. Allow me to be as specific as I can.
Here are the ages of girls I'm interested in, and not interested in:
Age 0: Sorry, but I don't like babies. I feel you look ugly
and you make a mess.
Age 1-3: Admittedly girls in this age group can be cute, but I
feel you still belong to your mother. Come back when you're older.
(Don't worry, you won't have to wait long for me!)
Age 4-6: You're pretty great, but sometimes you throw
tantrums, for no apparent reason. You can also do things which are
rather embarrassing, like standing on your chair in the middle of
dinner.
Age 7: For some reason you always strike me as skinny. Come
back next year.
Age 8: This is pretty much the perfect age. This was the age
of Alice in Wonderland. You're still a bona-fide child, yet you're a
little bit of a teen too. The only trouble is, one never knows if
you're going to be a child or a teen.
Age 9: Another great age. A 9-year-old is still young enough
to talk to the littlest kids on the block, as a sort of mother figure,
yet old enough to go places and do things too. If you're 9, you're
definitely in the running to be my groupie.
Age 10: Wow. You're getting kind of big, at least for me.
Still, I think you're great, if you don't act too bitchy. You can be my
groupie too.
Age 11: Another great age. Definitely able to go places and
do things, yet still an 'under 12' girl. You're certainly eligible to
be my groupie.
Age 12: Yikes! You're a little old for me. Still, if you're
willing to be a child, and not get all obsessed over adult-type issues,
you can be my groupie too.
Age 13: Sorry, but according to Frontline, on Public
Television, you are not a virgin. So even though you're cute, you're
not eligible to be my groupie. Your parents may not know about your
group sex sessions with your junior high friends, but I do.
Age 14: Again, we're faced with the same problem as with
13-year-old potential groupies. Sure, you're cute, but anybody who's
been simultaneously fucked in the mouth, ass, and cunt is way above my
league.
Age 15: Ha! What are you going to do, tell me you lost it
riding a horse? Forget it, honey. You're practically a fucking woman!
Age 16: Sorry, I don't even notice you when I go walking
around. If there are any little girls present, I don't even see you.
Age 17: You're scary. Not only are you almost a woman, but by
now you must have had sex about 100 million times. Go love a guy who
sings in a rock band. He'll be too stoned to notice how old you are.
Age 18: Gasp! You are really scary. You ARE a woman! Thank
God I've got my phone handy, and can call 911 if I need to. You can
meet me when you have a daughter.
Well, that sums up the people who are eligible to be my
groupies. Girls age 12 and under, with the emphasis on ages 8 through
11. Now I can post on the Internet in peace, knowing I won't be luring
girls on.
Speaking of groupies, Sean Penn has plenty in Woody Allen's
1999 movie Sweet and Lowdown. Sean plays Emmet Ray, the second greatest
guitar player in the world during the 1930's. As Emmet travels through
life, he comes upon a mute laundry girl. She is named Hattie, and is
played by Samantha Morton. Although she's apparently a virgin when she
first meets Emmet, she quickly develops a liking for sex. She also
likes presents, in an endearing little girl way. And she loves food,
especially candy and dessert. She's also very good with the traditional
wifely duties, such as doing laundry, making the bed, and cooking. So
the question arises, will Emmet stay with his cute little girl, or will
he dump her for the various glamorous mature women who keep hitting on
him?
And there's another question too, for you the viewer. This
movie presents a whole gamut of women. Which one do you like the best?
In my case, I thought Hattie was great. As for the other women, I found
them totally obnoxious. I wasn't the least bit attracted to them. And
before you simply say, "Oh well, he's a pedophile", let me say that I
have no less than Chris Rock on my side. In a comedy special I recently
saw him do, he listed three requirements for a woman: "Feed me, fuck
me, and shut the fuck up." Who better could fulfill Chris' conditions
than Hattie? She's mute, so she never talks. And, as mentioned
already, she likes sex and being a proper wife. In my case, I don't
care if a girl talks. It's usually rather interesting and if it isn't
(and it isn't in this movie, since the talking women are obnoxious) you
can just tune it out.
As you may have noticed, Woody Allen no longer stars in his
films. (Despite managing to list himself first in this film's
credits.) I suppose Woody thinks he's gotten too old to play himself in
his movies. In Radio Days, made in the 1980's when he still sometimes
starred in his films, he interrupts the film at regular intervals to
provide narration. This technique works in Radio Days. However it
doesn't work at all in Sweet and Lowdown. Woody, and various
contemporary friends of his, regularly interrupt the movie. They not
only speak over the film, they also stop it dead, showing their pretty
face, close up, and talking about Emmet Ray. This has the effect of
demeaning both the story and the actors. Instead of watching an actual
story unfold, that seems as if it's really happening before our very
eyes, we are reduced to feeling that we're watching some sort of shadow
play or puppet show. Any actor less powerful than Sean Penn would be
drowned by such a technique. Fortunately Sean is so strong on film, and
surrounded by such talented co-stars, that each time, after Woody nearly
kills the film, Sean and his co-stars manage to recover the illusion of
reality and get it going again.
Woody, there is no problem with growing old before your
audience. An actor who is well loved can get "too old" for various
parts and still play them, because the audience is indulgent. However,
switching to a Godlike narrator mode is not working. It is ruining what
is otherwise a fine film. Shut up, and get out of the picture, or star
in it as the leading man.
As for Sean Penn, although I haven't seen all his films, I can
say that every film I've seen him in so far, no matter who it's made by,
has been a quality film. I've enjoyed it. This is not the case with
Tom Cruise, who would be the only other logical contender for the
category I'm about to speak of. (Or Tom Hanks, since I've been bored by
some of his movies.) That category is, of course, "Greatest Living
Actor". I nominate Sean Penn. I didn't have any feelings toward the
guy in the past, so I have no inbuilt bias. I think in the past I might
not have even liked him, although I spend most of my time thinking about
little girls, so I don't remember for sure. But my vote is for Sean
Penn, if anyone's wondering. He seems like a modern day Clark Gable.
Definitely not the handsomest guy on the block, but with some sort of
quality inherent in him that makes him continually watchable and
interesting. Like many successful actors, he's physically quite short,
which may be news to people who think all actors must certainly be tall.
Sweet and Lowdown, despite Woody's narration, is a very
enjoyable film. T.V. Guide gives it three stars, on a scale that I
assume goes to four stars, and that seems exactly right to me. It could
have been a four star film, but Woody's interruptions and the film's
somewhat disappointing ending mar it. This is a film that needed to be
told straight through, and, unless some grand point was going to be
made, it needed to have a Hollywood ending tacked on to it, damn the
facts (or, rather, in this case, the lack of facts).
For a Hollywood ending, there's no better example than The
Bride. This is a 1985 remake of Frankenstein. Jennifer Beals plays the
bride of Frankenstein, and what man could ask for a cuter or more
virginal little girl? In fact, since Sting (Dr. Frankenstein) got to
sew together exactly the parts he wanted, this untutored little girl
looks like a Playboy Playmate. Will Sting get to have fun with his
little girl Playmate, or will she grow up before he can bed her, and
will she find some other lover? That's the question, and you'll have to
watch for the answer. This is the best Frankenstein movie I've ever
seen.
And now it gives me great pleasure to present to you the Ideal
Little Girl. Yes, I have found her, at last. The Lord has blessed me.
You remember how I said I liked Katherine Heigl, in My Father the Hero,
but that unfortunately, since she's 14, she's probably not a virgin and
therefore too old for me? Well now I have found a girl, a younger girl
obviously, who is definitely a virgin! It is Scarlett Johansson, who
plays Mannie in the film Mannie and Lo. Once again I have a woman
director, and the Sundance Channel, to thank for this blessing.
(Although the film itself is presently showing on Starz!)
As usual, I came upon this film as it was in progress. So I
missed the beginning, and saw only the latter half. As for what I saw,
it struck me as rather ridiculous. Not impossibly ridiculous, but
pretty unlikely. However, the great news is that, unlikely as this
film's premise may be, Scarlett Johansson is the star of the film. She
is on camera almost the entire time, providing two hours of little girl
bliss. And what she does, and says, is totally realistic, even if the
movie as a whole is ridiculous.
Mannie and Lo provides an excellent test for any male viewer.
Do you prefer Elaine, played by Mary Kay Place? (Hint: only if you're
a "single", i.e. over 40 or 50 years old.) Do you prefer Lo, played by
Aleksa Palladino? (Hint: Only if you're a testosterone laden
18-year-old who's desperate to get laid.) Or do you prefer Scarlett
Johansson? As for myself, there is no question. Mary Kay Place is way
too old, and Aleksa Palladino, in addition to being pregnant (in the
film), is too old and way too screwed up. No, I like, as usual, the
youngest girl. In fact I would label her my ideal girlfriend. Too bad
the movie was made in 1995, and she is, in real life, too old for me
now. But I can watch, and dream. And hope that she has a little
sister!
Well, that's it for now. We've talked about little girls,
little girls, and little girls. I think I've covered all the bases I'm
interested in. Hopefully I mentioned all the ones you're interested in
too.
- NND ---------------------------------------------------------
more below http://www.AlessandraSmile.com scroll down
---------------------------------------------------------------
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 tingly 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 tingling 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, she gave the girl a
light crack on her bare bottom with her 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.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-- 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.
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--
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