My name is Gabrielle Dolly, and I approve the contents of this site.
Book One, The Origin of Gabrielle Dolly, TATAS
Chapter Two
Getting Wet
"Oh, wait!" Dolly said. She squirmed around and ducked under his arm, darting back into the kitchen. She went to the breakfast nook and picked something up from the table.
"Whazzat?" Drummond demanded.
"This." She held it up. A chunk of chocolate.
"Oh," He said, still wondering. But Dolly's tangential tendencies piqued his desire to explore her more fully.
"Wanna bite?" Dolly held it out to him. He half-shrugged and leaned into it, teeth bared. He took a healthy nibble.
"Mmm. Good!" He enthused. It was, too. Dark chocolate with nuts--almonds, probably. Definitely almonds, he decided as he chewed.
"Thanks," Dolly said as she passed him, leading the way again, taking a bite of the chocolate herself.
As they passed through the master suite, Drummond shed his running shorts and Dolly her borrowed robe. Then they repaired to the bathroom. Dolly covered the stitches in her shoulder with a waterproof bandage while Drummond ran hot water in the tub to warm the pipes.
As they waited, she came into his arms and they nuzzled each other contentedly for a few moments. He cradled and stroked her softly, with no intent to arouse. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed, a beatific smile on her sensuous lips.
When he judged that the pipes were warm enough, he murmured in the hollow of her throat, "How's that line go? 'Come on, Gabrielle! Let's get wet!'"
She chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. "Well, you know me, wet, tight, hot, and ready 24-7."
He suppressed a shudder at the crudeness of her assertion and turned her around by the shoulders to kiss her full on the mouth. His traitorous hands traced eager parallel tracks up the muscular arc of her back. She placed an arm either side of his neck, crossing the wrists behind his head, pulling the two of them together. Her hands trembled in sympathetic vibration as a shuddering shock ran through her body. A like tremor passed through him at the same instant.
It always amazed Drummond that there were times it only took that one touch to arouse them both. Of course, to Dolly it was normal — she thought every couple in the world was so attuned to each other that the slightest touch skin to skin set off a storm of desire in their bodies. Drummond, with his longer and more varied experience, knew better and counted it as yet another earmark of the magic of their bond.
And in truth, he held back a little, seeking to act as a brake on the doll's hedonistic impulses. He didn't always succeed.
He handed her into the tub, stepping in himself, and closed the sliding door behind them. Reaching to the side wall of the enclosure, he turned the valve that fed the water to the shower head, standing between her and the first blast of cold water in the pipe, then turning the two of them together so that she was centered under the flow of now-warm water.
As she applied shampoo to her hair, he hurriedly washed his own, rinsing it clear while she was still lathering her longer tresses. When his was rinsed, he took over lathering hers, gently massaging the scalp, then her neck and shoulders.
She made ecstatic purring noises and wriggled against him. He held her hips to help her balance while she bent at the waist and let the water rinse the suds out of her red-gold hair, darkened to an old-penny brown by the water, but still glorious all the same.
He leaned forward, delighting in the squirm of her muscular haunches against his groin, and kissed her shoulder. One green eye peered out from under the cascade of hair and a grin twitched across her lips. She made him a wet air-kiss as her hands worked the shampoo out of her hair.
Still leaning over her bent back, he reached his hands around and cupped her hanging breasts, their nipples crinkled hard at his touch. She groaned and he felt a shiver run through her small body in response to his touch.
"Lemme finish up, here lover," she moaned, "I hate to get shampoo in my eyes. But then you can... have... your... mmmm... way with — AAH — me. Ooo! I like that!."
"Really? How about... this?" ...A kiss on a sensitive spot that got him a growl in response. "Or this?" a nibble for a gentle cry of sweet pain. "Or this?" a tweak that got a sharp intake of breath and a kiss in reply.
She managed to get her hair rinsed, slicked back, and out of the way, although some of it was still plastered to her face when she turned to face him and growled, "Brace yourself, Baby, 'cause here I come."
Taking her at her word, Drummond braced his feet on the non-skid patches in the tub bottom and took hold of the grab bars overhead. The doll climbed his body until she could clasp his hips between her thighs. She snaked her arms around his neck, her mouth battened onto his.
With slow teasing gyrations of her sleek, wet body against his, she lowered herself onto him, swiveling her hips, sliding up and down his body. Her ankles locked together, her heels hooked under his butt, her thighs clenched and relaxed to move her up and down against him. She broke out of the kiss for a brief moment and leaned back to smile at him, peering into his eyes, but never breaking rhythm of her movements.
This was entirely her show. He dared not move, even to touch her, else he risked a fall in the wet, slick tub. It was sweet torture that he could not take hold of her with his hands, could not move more than a few inches in response to her hungry motions. He had to hang on for both their safeties' sake and take what pleasure he could in the slick feel of her softnesses against him, clenching and stroking him with sweet fire, the bunching muscles of her strong thighs wrapped around his hips, the taste of her mouth, their tongues intertwined, the scent and heat of her flesh.
It was enough and, although he ached to hold her... it was enough.
#
For a long moment of time, they floated in bliss... then felt a mutual, growing urgency. Dolly's motions became frenzied. She moved now solely for her own gratification, drawing him along as their contrapuntal movement drove her arousal to increscent heights.
Finally he dipped his head to capture her mouth under his. She felt the involuntary shudder of his body and the warmth within as her movements wrenched his orgasm from him.
Dig it, grrls. Does yours kiss you? She asked in a catty mental voice. Mine does. She purred aloud, then herself erupted in an involuntary series of chesty moans as the peak of her own release broke over her.
When at last she was free of it, she let her legs unwrap from around him, and slid down to stand on shaky feet in the bottom of the tub. She leaned against him, not wanting to break contact.
Drummond hung limply from the overhead bars, breathing hard, like a thoroughbred at the finish of a mile and a quarter. Dolly could feel the pounding of his heart and her own at the points of contact. Tiny flashes of light exploded in her head, like the last few kernels of popcorn in a microwave, trailing off to fade away to the mere background, the constant low level of arousal she felt around him and he, she was sure, felt around her.
He let go of the bar with one hand and dropped it, brushing across her belly in passing. The touch set off an electric fire in her flesh, and her body gathered in on itself for an instant. Radiating outward from the place where his hand touched her was a ripple of sweet pain that found the high spots of her body: her cheeks, lips, and throat; her breasts, belly... the small of her back... her buttocks; the backs of her knees, behind the pads of her toes.
She gave a sudden involuntary shudder and would have fallen had he not caught her with his free arm and pulled her against him. Experimentally, she brushed her fingertips across his lower belly, eliciting a similar response from him. She pressed her lips against his chest, nuzzling the graying hairs, tracing a wet path around one nipple with her tongue.
Then he dropped slowly to his knees, bringing their eyes almost to the same level, (he was that much taller than she), and wrapped his long arms around her, clasping her desperately to him as their mouths met in a gasping expression of unquenched passion. His lips migrated across her face to her ear, then down her neck to a place... where... he... stopped and nuzzled in the hollow between her neck and shoulder.
Soon, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back, her mouth hanging open in a slack "oh". She shut out her surroundings, focusing everything on the places on her skin where his kisses inflamed her.
When he began teasing her blood-engorged nipples with his teeth and tongue, she began to slide her hands up and down her own body, across his shoulders, raking his back with her nails, grasping his head and pull him closer against her.
As he slid his tongue downward to grant the benison of his kisses to the soft place of her body, she cupped her breasts in her own hands and stroked them with practiced motions that sent her arousal to new heights.
She was backed down to the drain end of the tub, her head buttressed against the tile wall under the shower head, her back arched, her legs spread, her feet planted. She offered up her tender places for his attentions.
Immediately below the shower head was another of the stainless steel grab bars that comprised what they called their grownup jungle gym. She took hold of the grab bar with one hand and reached the other up to pull the shower head around so that its spray fell on her chest. With a quick flick of her fingers, she turned the control ring on the head around so that the water hit her body in pulsating jets. The needle-like spray pounded her skin, sending tiny spasms of delight across the expanses of her in electric ripples that drove her ever higher.
Then she took hold of the bar with both hands and surrendered to the sweet torture of Drummond's passionate exploration of her wholly aroused flesh.
Drummond reached middle of her belly and was running his tongue around her navel. The sounds he made had a bit of the abject about them, as he spread his mouth on the muscular mound below her navel where her belly dived into her neatly-trimmed golden fleece.
Breathing hard, his chest pumping like a bellows, he cradled her ass in his hands and pressed his cheek against her lower abdomen, turning to kiss her again and again, each time moving closer to his eventual goal--but not too quickly. His actions were intended to engage her body in a sweet torture that could keep her floating on a pre-orgasmic cloud, in theory, for hours, (although he'd never managed more than one hour without a break).
This time, though, they were in a bit of a hurry, so he kept moving remorselessly across her belly and down between her thighs, where a milky white stream was still trickling down her leg to mingle with the shower water and disappear down the drain.
With a slight pressure on the inside of one knee, he indicated that she should spread her thighs. When she was settled on the non-skid patches, he spread her lotus blossom with his thumb and forefinger and began his act of veneration at the altar of her womanhood. His trilling tongue brought her no fewer than three climaxes before she hung slack from the grab bar, wrung out like a wet dishrag, breathing hard, eyes closed in delicious exhaustion.
#
They sat under the spray on the floor of the tub, Drummond behind with Dolly between his legs, knees to her chest to become a bundle of small girl enfolded in the circle of his arms and legs. She leaned into him, purring as he nuzzled her neck and ears. The warm water pounded them. Their eyes half-closed, they breathed in wet sputters. Eventually, they recovered enough to twist around and smash their mouths together in kisses at once both tender and passionate.
#
Drummond reached up to the soap dish and fished down a bar of Camay. He lathered his hands and then began soaping her body. It took only seconds for here to lurch once more to her feet straddling the tub, faced toward the drain end, leaning her forearms against the grab bar, panting in cyclical, moaning crescendi as Drummond entered her from behind, his firm thrusts taking her back to the first time ever they made love.
Drummond surrendered to the primal urge to penetrate his partner as deeply as he could. Her enthusiastic reaction was part of the appeal. The expression on her face as she pressed against the tile wall of the shower, mouth slack, wriggling in ecstasy...
In soberer moments, Drummond was sure that the species came biologically hard-wired for this. The human body was Evolution had engineered the human body so that those who got the most pleasure from sex were the ones who did it most often, thereby increasing their chances of leaving progeny behind when they died.
This was not a sober moment.
Her response to him thrusts inflamed him in turn. The symbolism of a stripper's pole dance became blindingly obvious. His movements drove her to ever greater rapture, as hers in turn stroked him to a like paradise.
#
She turned and their mouths met just as he came inside her.
Then she floated away on the soft explosions of her own orgasms. She cried out her coming in a soft, high-pitched voice, that got louder and deeper the higher her orgasm built until, just as she thought she couldn't stand any more, it exploded in her head and across her inflamed skin like an electric charge.
Now this, she thought as she floated on a cloud of bliss, barely conscious, trusting the safety of his arms around her, this is how to get clean in the morning. She wriggled her body in his arms, teasing her butt against his belly, feeling his flaccid manhood catch in a secret crevice and respond mindlessly to her enticement.
"Hey, lady. You may be ready to go 24-7, but I need a rest in between. Twice in a half hour is way past my limit."
"Oh well," she sighed in mock exasperation. "Guess I'll just have to find me some young stud to do me." She said, gently teasing.
His entire body stiffened in a quickly-stifled reaction. She spun immediately in his arms and grabbed his head. "You listen to me," she said with shuddering intensity. "I was just kidding! There's nobody but you and never will be. You got me?"
He nodded numbly. "I'm sorry I reacted that way."
"I'm glad you did. I need to know when I hurt you so I don't do it again. I don't ever want to hurt you, even when I'm kidding... hell, especially when I'm kidding around. I want you to know in your bones that you can trust me... completely." She pulled his head down and kissed him deeply and thoroughly.
"Thank you," he said.
She turned her eyes up to his. They were filled with tears of joy. She gifted him with that megawatt smile. "What a great way to start the day. I love you, Mitch Drummond."
"I love you, Gabrielle Dolly."
"Now... I think it's time we got out of here and got dressed."
"Uh, yeah," he said, reaching behind her to shut off the water.
They got out and toweled themselves and each other dry. Of course, Dolly did a dance on the mat, teasing him in a lazy replete way. She held the towel in both hands and rubbed it suggestively across various parts of her body. He could only stop her by wrapping her up in the terry cloth sheet and rubing her dry himself — which she wanted all along.
Drummond wondered if anything two people could do together could not be turned into a dance of enticement. That made him chuckle. Surely Dolly would make anything about sex.
But he also wondered... Was it possible to have too much of the excellent thing? "To what do we owe the pleasure?" he murmured as he hung up the last towel to dry and turned-to on Dolly's hair.
According to their usual ritual, she sat splay-legged on the lid of the toilet, leaning forward, arms resting on her knees, her hair like a golden-red waterfall almost reaching the floor, perfectly still, while Drummond worked in a special oil and ran a blow dryer over it, brushing steadily, taking pains not to overheat her hair. Its rich health was the result of such vigilance and he never wanted to give her an excuse to cut it.
He loved long hair on women. He found it profoundly arousing, and was dismayed to learn that the care of it was such a chore that most women cut their hair short at some point in their lives. He vowed he would everything he in his power to dissuade Dolly from ever cutting hers. If that meant sitting with her while it dried and watching the condition of the shafts like a mother hen, educating himself about shampoos and conditioners and coloring agents, learning to trim the ends as they split, taking the time to brush it thoroughly at least once a day, and turning the whole ritual into serious cuddle time for them so it never became something that was unwelcome to her, then so be it.
So far it had worked. Her negative reaction to Olivia Wilson's much-lauded cut pleased him all out of reason. Not that he agreed; he thought that the actress would be radiant no matter her hair style. But that he approved of Dolly's take on long hair in general.
Shortly, hair dry, bodies dry and powdered, teeth brushed and mouths washed, (with a stop for a kiss test to make sure it was done right), and dressed in fresh, comfortable traveling clothes, they rolled up Interstate 71 toward Columbus in Drummond's Grand Cherokee, sharing some hot breakfast sandwiches, orange juice and coffee, and talking silly lovers' nonsense to each other.
Somewhere in the back of Drummond's mind, though, a nagging sense of something left turned on back at the house would not leave him alone.
#
Ordinarily, authors don't publish their "trunk" stories — those stories they cannot or will not sell. But these stories of the Dolly Apocrypha were effectively written in public. They were composed in 1500-word chunks, as posts on a mailing list. They have been on the Web almost since they were first written. Withholding them now would be kind of churlish. And... I hope that they can bring a few people some joy.
Recent developments in the publishing arena make it feasible for me to publish these stories without having to face the gatekeepers of the publishing industry in New York. Leaving aside the question of whether this is wise, I am pleased to let it be known that I am preparing to publish a heavily revised version of the Apocrypha — call it Apocrypha 2.0 — in ebook formats (Kindle, Nook, et al) sometime before the end of 2012. Thus it is then that one may come to think of the stories as they have been published on the Web these last 12 years as the first draft of what someday will be the final version of the Dolly Apocrypha. Sometime also in 2012, I hope to have paper edition(s) available as well. Watch this space and at BabyTrollBlog
Also sometime in the future (I hope in the NEAR future), Dolly and I will seek professional publication of The Dolly Canon — stories purpose-written for publication, at (one hopes) a higher level of quality and professionalism. Friends have read the stories as they stand: Geppetto's Log, Genesis, Armed Citizen, The Omega Trilogy (Deicide in Irian Jaya, You Could Spend Years, The Next Story). All have much work to be done on them to bring them to an acceptable level of quality. I offer this here in the hopes that these will expand beyond the mere 15 pastiches here into an admirable body of work. Additionally, all of the thought I have put into this whole ball of wax has persuaded me that there may be yet a THIRD story arc — call it the Continuing Adventures of Gabrielle Dolly — and a FOURTH — call those The Adventures of Gabrielle Godslayer. As I say, watch this space and the blog.
Content: Being as this is created by and for fans of a violent television show that had a notorious following of people who are interested in sex, (as if there is anybody who is not interested in sex), it's a pretty safe bet that, even though this story is not about the characters in the show, there's plenty of both. There is also some language that some may find offensive and will tut-tut about. Too bad. That's what the off-button is for. Nobody is forcing you to read this. Exercise your freedom of choice. Everybody else: enjoy!
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© 1999-2011 Mark Philip Alger. All rights reserved.
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There is none of that wishy-washy open-source crap here. This stuff is mine. I made it. I intend to defend it vigorously. Infringe on my copyrights at your own moral peril.
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