The Cayute Room

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Across the table from us the pixie-haired girl was showing her tattoos to the redhead and explaining them. The redhead would touch her on the arm and run her fingers over one of the tattoos, and the punk girl would smile and explain what it was supposed to be. But it was odd, because some of them she couldn't figure out, even though they were on her own body. She would say, "That? I don't know what that is. And that, I don't know, but it's kind of cool, don't you think?" All the edge had left her face, that ironic scowl she had worn when I first noticed her, and she was wide-eyed and innocent as my nieces. I thought to myself, weirdly, that it would be really fun to play with her, that she probably has lots of cool things and is into being really creative. I wondered how I could get invited over to her house sometime.

I had turned to face Steph, but I could hear over my shoulder another girl talking to her partner about Mexico. Apparently she had used to go there with her father when she was young, and it was the most magical, romantic place to travel, according to her. I thought maybe she was getting a little carried away with her story, because she was pausing to squeal in a babyish voice every now and then, reenacting what she would say to her father on the trip: "Oh daddy, it's so pwetty. Can we climb the mountains, daddy?" that sort of thing. I was biting my lip. It seemed weird that I was wearing the jacket, it was such a stuffy adult thing to wear, and not at all suitable, not at all something I was used to. I couldn't figure out how I could have gotten such a thing in my wardrobe. Why would a girl like me need a grown-up's suit jacket?

I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. Why was I here? Were these other girls all my friends? I felt like I knew them but I couldn't remember their names, except for Steph, and that was stupid of me. I'd be embarrassed if they knew. I already felt a little embarrassed but I really wanted the girls to like me. Those creepy old men were here, I wondered whose daddies they were. One of them was pointing cameras at us, and one of the girls, the girl with that tan jacket on, seemed to really like this, because she talking at it and flirting with it, pouting and cooing, and saying all kinds of dumb things, like "Is that thing on? I want to sing a song, let me sing a song, is it my turn to sing a song?" She said her name was Tammy, and that she was the most popular girl in her school, and that she should film her because she was going to be class president someday. I couldn't understand why she was wearing that jacket; it must have belonged to her mom or something. She started to sing "London Bridge is falling down" in a loud voice, and then she said, "I'm all hot, I hate wearing tights, why am I all dressed up and it isn't even Sunday." Her voice seemed to be changing, slipping into a kind of ignorant trailer-trash drawl.

Then she kicked off the pumps she was wearing, hiked up her skirt and started rolling her pantyhose down. "I guess this is a slumber party, huh?" Steph asked me, massaging my leg gently and softly, and I figured that she might be right. It was going to be fun, but I wasn't sure if I had my pajamas with me. I seemed to be dressed up in someone's mother's clothes. And I was wearing a bra, which was odd. It felt tight, and my chest was heavy. My boobs seemed so unwieldy, so strangely large. I really wanted to change out of this stuffy costume and get into my bed clothes.

Stephie had suddenly become busy making pigtails out of the Spanish girl's sumptuous hair, and I missed her being close to me. I noticed the redhead girl was standing knock-kneed in the corner, having worked herself into a snivet complaining about her bra being too tight, and trying to get one of the men to give her permission to take it off. I felt a little sorry for her with her glasses and all because they made her look so serious and bookish. The pixie girl with the colorful arms and the thingy in her nose was alone, and I found myself smiling shyly across the table at her, wondering if she'd even notice little me.

But sure enough, her eyes beamed at me, and she skipped around the table and came right up to me and said artlessly, "Hi, what's your name?"

"I'm Lindsey"

"I'm Tracey. Guess what, I have an earring in my boobie. You wanna see?" She lifted up her shirt to show me and it was true, she had a little gold ring there, through the nipple. Her boobs seemed so big, beautiful pendulous teardrops with quarter-inch nipples protruding in the middle. I guess she didn't wait for permission to take off her bra.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"Not really, but it's a little tingly. It keeps my nipples hard all the time. Maybe that's how my boobies got so big," Tracey said.

I stared at her bare chest while she continued to hold her shirt up, and I said, "They are pretty big." It was accentuated by her slim, boyish hips. She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, as if to make them jiggle a little for me and as if she were discovering for the first time that she could do such a thing. She let out a little giggle, pleased with herself.

"Let me see yours, Lindsey," she said. I hesitated for a minute. "Come on, I showed you mine!"

I remembered being told it was a naughty thing to do to just open your shirt like that around strangers, that it was inappropriate, so I wasn't sure I should do it, but I really wanted to be Tracey's friend and it made me really happy to see her chest, it was so different seeing boobs on another girl's body. Then I noticed that one of the daddies here was making home movies of us, so that made it seem okay to put on a little show for the camera, so I started to unbutton my shirt. Tracey smiled a really big smile, and so did I. There were so many buttons! But finally I got it all undone, and I undid the strap thingy, the bra, I mean, that was holding my boobs up and then there I was showing them to Tracey.

"Wow," she said. "Yours are big too. I like how round and firm yours look. Mine seem to droop down some." She lifted and dropped the heft of her breasts as if to make her point. It made me want to touch them really bad. Tracey seemed to know what I was thinking as she moved in closer to me and said, "It's okay. I'll let you touch mine if you let me touch yours."

I felt shy but I nodded, and she began feeling my breasts. I could tell my nipples were getting hard and I was shivery all over, it felt so wild. "It tickles," I said.

"Your nipples are longer than mine," Tracey said. "You could put two earrings in yours."

Then I touched her nipple, felt the little ring that was through it. "Is that okay?" I asked timidly.

"Mmmm," Tracey said. "It feels neat." I kept playing with it, and she with mine, and I noticed we were both breathing really heavy as if we had just both run all the way home from school or something. I was feeling this dampness between my legs, and I wondered if Tracey felt it too, because I could see her squirming where she was standing as she touched me. I didn't know if I should say anything about it, but I had this weird idea about touching myself in my naughty area where mommy told me not touch unless I was washing in the shower.

I look up and saw two girls playing patty-cakes for the man with the camera, and maybe they were changing into their PJs because both of them had their tops off. One was the red-haired girl, who still had her glasses on, and the other had a lot of makeup on, all shiny and sparkly. She had tiny little buds where Tracey and I had big melons, relatively speaking, and I felt glad Tracey seemed to like me best. I still felt all wet inside and wanted to touch it. The redhead suddenly said, "I need to go wee-wee," and she looked around helplessly, waiting to be told what to do. "I feel like I'm going wee-wee in my underpants." The made-up girl was laughing at her, saying she didn't know how to potty.

In front of one of daddies with the camera, the brown-skinned girl and Tammy were competing for his attention. Tammy had taken her jacket off, and her blouse too, and was just wearing a bra, which was made out of black lace. "Look at me, look at me," she said, "I'm a big girl, I get to wear bras and things," she said. "I have pretty panties on and I'm all hairy between the legs like my ma." She lifted up the skirt she wore to show what she meant. She already took off her panty hose. Through her lacy panties we could see her big bush.

I told Tracey about it, about the hair down there, and she nodded and said it was strange. "I know," I said, "But I think I might have some already."

"Really?" She took her hands off my breasts, and then reached down inside her pants. "I don't feel any hair down there," she said. "Maybe a little, but it's only in a strip. But mmmmm. It feels good when I touch there, right above where I pee. It feels really really good! I'm all wet there, but it's not from pee."

I said, "I don't know. I've been feeling strange and tingly down there ever since you started playing with my boobs." I couldn't believe I said that. I was blushing so hard. I hoped Tracey didn't think I was a freak.

"No I know," she said, and I was so relieved.

"I want to touch myself there, but I know I'm not supposed to, at least not in front of other people."

"It's okay," Tracey said, and she smiled warmly at me. "Are you really hairy there? Can I see?"

Tammy was insisting her boobs were bigger than the brown-skinned girl's and was shoving them in the camera, but the man with the camera seemed more interested in her because she was showing him a special trick she had discovered to make herself feel good. She had straddled one of the arms of one of the chairs and was rubbing herself against it back and forth. She could barely keep her eyes open, she was making herself feel so good. She kept going faster and faster.

Shyly I unhooked my skirt and let it fall to the floor. Then I pulled down my underpants and let Tracey see. "Wow," she said. "Can I touch it?" She started to rub her fingers through my hair down there, which felt soft and bristly a the same time. We sat down beside each other in chairs. "Touch mine," she whispered. Her pants were down too, and her hair was so much different, a little vertical strip that led down to her hole. She took my hand and guided it there, while she continued to touch me, touching me on the outside of my hole, which was so wet. It felt so good. I felt my little button getting harder under her fingers, and hers was stiffening too under mine, and we were rubbing each others in the same rhythm.

"Doesn't it feel neat?" Tracey asked.

"I like the way you touch me," I said.

"Me, too," Tracey replied.

Then I noticed Stephie standing there alone, watching us. She has her pants around her ankles and she was rubbing her thighs together as she looked at Tracey and me. "What are you guys doing," she asked coyly. "Can I play too? I never played doctor with other girls before. Only with my big brothers."

This made me happy because I didn't want Stephie to feel left out. She knelt on the ground in front of me and said, "This is a game my brothers showed me." Then she put her mouth to my private parts. I thought it felt good when Tracey was touching me there, but my god! What Stephie was doing to me was the most beautiful thing I ever felt.

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous9 months ago

What?

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
It's literature, damn it.

I think this is HOT stuff. Who cares how they got drugged? It's quite clear that they are - so it leads to her fantasy. Did Alice in Wonderland tell you how she was drugged? Only after learning about Lewis did the world understand it was a chemically induced FANTASY. Baby, you keep writing - write to me, for me, about me. I love your fantasy world. I get it and it made me so very, very hot. I teach literature and I'm giving you an "A".

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Idiotic...

...and pointless. Rambling nonsense that was a TOTAL waste of my time to read.

Leave Writing To WRITERS!

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
great writing, odd story

I feel the same as the commentator above. Some amazing writing. Killer-diller details at times, and I frequently thought, "wow, I wish I could write like that." But then there is the plot, which, hmmm. I like the idea of how you ended the story, because I think it was the situation you were interested in, not pages and pages of sex, but it doesn't quite work as is. It seems as if you lost interest. Similarly, it was working really well the way you introduced flashes of sexuality into our heroine's point of view as the cayute began to have an effect on them, but then why they all regressed in maturity didn't fit. It seems like if you could have made it work with them keeping their same personalities that you spent so much time developing, then it would have made it much hotter. Despite all these reservations, I gave you a 5, because you can really write.

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Excellent writing, but weird story!

OK, I'm assuming all of these women had been drugged but the story never really explains why or how, or to what purpose. Still, it was a very interesting read, and I liked the way the different characters were described in detail.

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