The Nymphetamine Girls

By Anna J Walner and Vanessa Morris

Fans of My Dark Vanessa will LOVE The Nymphetamine Girls

 

Lisette and Natalia are perfect. What all the other girls want to be. Beautiful and famous as their alter egos online, they revel in the joy of sexual exploration, and exhibitionism online. The view, the like, the followers. It's addictive. Almost as addictive as the forbidden fruit of their new teacher, John May.

 

With a dark past of his own, he see's Lisette for exactly what she is. Both tempting, and troubled. Will he surprise her, or will it be the other way around?

Dealing with divorce and death at a young age, Lisette only has Natalia. And with her mother lowly drinking and drugging her way to the grave, Natalia only has Lisette.

 

But when John shows Lisette how toxic their relationship truly is, will she believe him? Will he change her life if she chooses John over Natalia, or will he destroy it?

 

Once the dust settles only one of the two girls will make it out alive. The other will have their life irrevocably changed forever.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Silver Dawn Publishing
• Release date: Mar 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201633325

Book preview

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1

The cafeteria is bustling today, the wild silly laughter of other girls talking with their friends obscuring the conversation Natalia and I are having, which I’m grateful for.

He’s watching us again.

I pull my phone out, glancing at the black screen for just the briefest second before I tap it, seeing all the notifications. She’s right. I catch his reflection in the glass, and although I can’t prove it’s us he’s looking at specifically, he’s certainly looking this way.

It’s Friday, his day to monitor ‘A’ lunch. Tuesdays and Friday’s. My two favorite days to come to school.

You do look especially alluring today, Natalia tells me, as if I didn’t already know that. Taking extra care with the thinnest white shirt from my dead mother’s closet.

The one that shows the light brown of my areolas and the stiff peaks of my nipples against the chill of the air conditioning that breezes through the spacious room.

Yes, but he hardly ever notices me. I complain, sliding my hand up her thigh, and tracing the lining of her panties under her skirt. I love your skirt today, by the way. I whisper into her ear, gently licking her earlobe as I tell her so. Easy access . . . I gently trace one side of her outer lips, teasing her. She likes it. She always does.

It’s our game, the talking, the temptation, the carefully hiding as we fly just under the radar of authoritative suspicion. Seeing how long we can tease each other before we give in. So very girl boss close to the sun, which describes us perfectly in everything we do. Limits are meant to be pushed.

He notices. He’s trying not to give himself away right now, that’s all. He’s thinking dirty thoughts, I can feel it, she laughs, as we both glance over at him, catching him whip his head around, as if he wasn’t watching.

John May, 24 and fresh from college. He also happens to live in our neighborhood. A small gated community in one of the poshest suburbs of Austin, Texas.

Verdant Hills is where the rich live, and our tiny gated estate is even harder to get in to. Verdant Glen is where my mother decided to plant us, a year before she divorced my ass hat of a father. An abusive drunk, who married some vapid trophy wife who had all the sense of a half-priced hooker.  

A generous settlement from one of the wealthiest oilmen, and a healthy monthly stipend in alimony and child support made her death an easy one for her to find. Lost in a haze of cocaine, pills, and liquor.

Claire has been my unofficial legal guardian for nearly six years. My father of course couldn’t be bothered, living so far away. But I refused to leave Verdant Glen, and there was no way I was leaving Natalia.

An elderly woman now, Claire was the one who took care of me as my mother drank herself through one liver and destroyed the donor one as well.

The endless parade of men through the house, and the parties she threw were still talked about in hushed tones when Natalia and I were seen out and about on our street. But no one speaks ill of the dead here. Not in the South, and not in Verdant Glen. Accidents happen all the time.

Natalia’s mother is Blair and was my mother’s best friend. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. You could say that we’re close.

More than friends for sure. Blair and mothers’ parties were famous. Nearly everyone in our little haven has been in some compromising position over the past, we have proof of that. Including the two of us.

A sudden splash of ice-cold water across the front of my shirt knocks me from my thoughts as I see Natalia smiling. Oops, she says with faux-innocence, taking a lingering look down at my ever-stiffening nipples through the silky shirt.

Fucking cunt! I tell her with a laugh, as she licks her lips. But I’m guessing from the look on your face that it worked. Should I go and ask him for a towel? I ask her playfully, as I stand and walk toward him.

He tries to be polite, to not look, but he can’t help but glance. There’s no way he doesn’t notice. Hell, everyone in the cafeteria is staring, even the janitor with his yellow bucket and mop in hand.

Mr. May, I’ve spilled water on my shirt. I inform him, carefully watching his face for any expression. I love the restraint he’s trying so hard to pull off right now.

Lisette, you can towel off in the bathroom. His flat tone professional, carefully keeping his gaze above my head. But as hard as he tries, he can’t help himself from flitting his gaze toward my shirt once more, as I stand there until he does.

Thank you Mr. May, I say, and he knows what I’m thanking him for. I slowly lower my eyes to his crotch, seeing how well he was able to conceal the desire I knew was pulsing through him. The faint outline of something impressive is struggling inside his trousers right now.

As I turn to head back to Natalia, I catch him slightly adjust his stance. I’ve aroused him, and it makes me aroused, as I feel my panties moisten at the thought.

He’ll be thinking about me tonight for sure.

Very well done. Natalia remarks with a hunger in her eyes. We’ve only one class left after lunch, should we ditch? She asks, knowing that I want to. She knows everything about me.

We may as well. I decide, pushing the half-eaten salad away and grabbing my Louis Vuitton backpack. It’s not like anyone would notice or even care.

We do whatever the fuck we want. And if we ever do get in trouble, it’s usually overlooked, given that the new gym was recently renovated by two very wealthy benefactors that happen to have our last names.  

The gunmetal Porsche cools off quickly, even in the Texas heat, which radiates in waves from every surface under the sun. And during this time of year, it never really stops shining. It’s nearly Summer, and our last year of High School before we both go off to Julliard next fall.

Natalia continues to pester me as we drive, gently flicking each of my nipples in turn until they’re nearly raw. Goddamnit, bitch. I told you to stop! I snarl over at her, as she continues to draw slow circles around her clitoris in the passenger seat. Teasing herself to the point where I’m at now.

I can’t help myself. She pouts at me, as I grip the wheel tighter. You’ve gotten me all worked up, along with poor Mr. May. She says with a childish giggle.

We’re nearly to Verdant Glen, the ornate gates opening at the click of the remote on my visor.

Your house or mine? I ask, although I don’t really care which. Claire is most likely watching her soaps, or passed out in her motorized chair, and we both know that Natalia’s mother is passed out drunk by this time of day.

Mine. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. She flicks my right nipple again, this time hard enough to make me flinch.

Your house it is. I agree, returning her flick with a none too tender pinch on her inner thigh, leaving a bright red welt, as she moans and cups her pussy in her own hand, slowly grinding against it.

Keep that shit up and we’ll both come within seconds. I warn her as she smiles. Although it’s actually the other way around once we get into her room. Natalia makes the rules in the bedroom, while I run the show in public and online.

We drive past the imposing mansions which line the street like a life-sized monopoly board. The high vestibules gracing the front of each brick porch, at the front of each stucco home, on each perfectly manicured lawn we pass. The perfect picturesque neighborhood, and all the dirty closed-door secrets that come along with the deeds.

Natalia’s house is no different, three houses down from mine, and conveniently catty corner to John’s. His is one of the first and the oldest in this tiny alcove, and smaller than the rest, right at the end of the cul-de-sac.

I pull up under the porte-cochere, next to her Lexus and behind her mother’s Land Rover. Both our mothers had married and divorced well. And both would probably meet the same fate, sipping martinis at the bar in hell or some shit like that, I think smugly.

Grab my bag too.

Yeah, yeah. I reach into the back seat and grab both bags. We don’t carry much in the way of books in our packs. They’re more for looks than anything. And status. Status is everything, even at school.

We take the stairs up to the pool house above the outdoor cabana alongside the oasis in the backyard. Memories of growing up splashing in that pool were some of the best I could remember from my childhood.

Hi. I stare at the little girl outside the open front door while the men are still moving in furniture and boxes.

I’m Natalia, do you want to come swimming at my house? She asks me with a smile.

Sure. I’m Lisette, I say, hollering for my mom, finally hearing her heels click against the marble entryway floor.

Hi there, I’m Genevieve, Lisette’s mom. My mother is beautiful, blonde hair like mine and bright blue eyes that sparkle with life. I can’t wait to grow up and be like her.

I’m Natalia, can Lisette come to my house and go swimming? She asks with a bright smile.

Where do you live? My mother asks, glancing out the front door as Natalia gestures.

Just across the street, and I know my mom would like to say hi too, when she’s feeling better. Natalia explains with a bit of hesitation.

That would be lovely, we’re just moving in as you can tell. My mother laughs, filling the foyer with sounds like music. Lisette was worried she would have trouble making friends and look how that worked out!

How old are you? I ask as we walk across the street, my beach towel in hand.

Eleven. She says, as we swing open the metal gate to the backyard and the tropical oasis. The waterfall cascading down the rocks, palm trees and real sand with beach chairs sit just above the sloping entrance into the pool. It’s like I’ve stepped into a world of magic.

Me too! So we’ll be in the same grade.

And best friends! She declares as I nod in agreement.

The smell of night blooming jasmine that floated up from the sagging blooms, white and fragile alongside the vibrant music that reverberated as we watched movies, peeking out the windows from time to time.

Watching the men and women, drunk on expensive champagne and fish scale cocaine, strip naked and give themselves over to pure pleasure, knowing somehow that we would be them one day.

The ten-foot-tall fence that bordered the property was like a refuge for wild animals, which perfectly described some of the things we’d witnessed growing up.

And being that the County Constable frequented Blair and mothers’ parties, he ensured that the gatherings never ended, and that the supply of sex and drugs was never interrupted.

We wanted what they had, the women in fine clothes and red-soled shoes, the ones who’s faces screamed in delight as they were fucked by random men over and again, while we watched it all from the safety of our hidden room above the pool.

That room was no longer for innocent slumber parties of thirteen-year-old girls. Although looking back, even those hadn’t been innocent for very long.

We were eighteen now, fully adult in our own minds, and fully fluent in the language of sensuality. We embraced who we were several years ago, as soon as my mother was laid to rest. Blind to who and what we were now.

We are the Nympthetamine Girls.

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2

Natalia closes the door behind us, flipping over the deadbolt lock we had installed several years ago. And even if we were to be interrupted, we doubted anyone would care. In fact, we were looking for someone new to join in the fun.

And we’d decided months ago that it would be John. We just had to be patient. But eventually they all came to us, and came in us, I think with a smile. Just thinking about him is making me drip again.

I bend over the king size bed, knowing exactly what to do. We’d been through this. This was our thing. Our private place to explore and enjoy all the dirty little things our minds could come up with.

Things we’d read in books or seen on movies. Things we’d seen in porn online, or even things we saw in online shops that looked promising.

In reality, it was Natalia that came up with most of them, but I was rarely disappointed. Although sometimes I did have a wild idea or two.

The dimly lit room was just bright enough for the cameras to pick up everything. Carefully constructed and lit to hide the things we didn’t want noticed, but capture all the fun on a cloud-based server that would never be accessible by anyone but us.

We made sure to film each of our trysts. It was our goal to become famous, and a sex tape was sometimes a quick ticket to the fame we so desperately sought. Mayors, police, firemen, lawyers, and other political persons of importance would be shocked to know that somewhere there was a video of them fucking a barely legal girl.

Sometimes we would watch them, just to enjoy the scenes we created, critique each other’s performance, or find something new we hadn’t tried yet. Sometimes watching the videos were the best part of foreplay for us.

Stay there, Natalia says, as she moves into the bathroom. The sound of running water, as I expect to hear, is followed by her bare footsteps along the wooden floor towards me, and up behind me.

She draws my long hair away from my face, over and across my back, leaning in to whisper into my ear. Spread your legs. You know I have to clean you up. Her tone is slightly chiding, making me feel dirty in a way that makes me ooze almost instantly.

Yes ma’am, I reply. The only thing I’m really able to say inside this room. Except for colors. Vert, Orange, and Rouge. The standard colors for gauging compliance, in French of course.

Vert meant that everything was fine. Orange meant that we were tiptoeing closer to actual pain, and Rouge was for stop. A code that we never broke, no matter how heated our encounters became.

I have never once uttered the word Rouge, although I have had to wear pants instead of shorts to hide the bruises from one of her favorite paddles before.

I move my feet apart, as she reaches inside my panties, running the washcloth through the folds of my sex gently. Making sure to pull them apart and clean the entirety of my lower half.

You enjoy it when I clean you up, don’t you? She talks as she continues to caress me. This is all part of the process, the longer the anticipation for us both, the more intense the result. And a better show for the cameras of course.

Yes ma’am, I whisper back, wondering what she’s thinking of doing to me today. The possibility exciting me more and more, the longer she keeps touching me.

The washcloth drops to the floor, the sounds of something being picked up from the table catching my attention. A gentle slap of her hand sends oil spattering down my legs, her fingers gently tracing through the folds of my pussy with ease, gliding effortlessly over bare skin like satin.

I moan, keeping my hands flat on the footboard, as I know to do. She would stop if I didn’t. And I don’t want her to stop. Not until I know what she ultimately has in mind. What new surprise awaits me today.

I feel her work her way toward my backside, we had just used the strap-on yesterday, so that wasn’t new. Deftly, she inserts the tip of something smooth and pointed, a gasp escaping my lips, as I imagine the pleasurable look on her face at my reaction.

Would you like me to stop? she teases, removing the unknown object.

Vert, I answer, feeling my rectum flare again, accepting whatever gift she has. Slowly, and gently I flower, feeling a fullness I’ve never felt until now, and then the slightly painful part is over, replaced by a dull thrumming ache.

I hear her footsteps coming around to the side of the bed, her capable and skilled hands gently taking my breasts, kneading the already sensitive tissue from her painful teasing on the way over.

Lay on your back. She directs, as I quickly obey. Anxiously awaiting the smile I will see on her face. One leather strap secures my right wrist, as she works next to secure my left, all the while she hovers above me, one knee on each side, giving me a lovely view of her own pretty cunt. If she were close enough, I would love to have a taste.

Do you love me? She asks, sinking down onto me, meeting her sex with mine, sharing the oil between us in slow motions.

Yes Ma’am, I answer, begging for the pleasure to continue.

Do you want to feel what it would be like? Me and John together, taking you? Using you, filling up every inch of you? She taunts, grinding in undulating motions, as the friction between our slick skin continues to arouse me. She knows I love it when she talks to me like this.

Yes, please. I beg.

Natalia slips off me, leaving me anticipating the pleasure she promised, pulling my favorite toy from the drawer by the bed. A wide dildo we named John for fun.

She carefully makes a show of moving her hands up and down the thick shaft and over the tip, spreading the oil along the shaft as she does. I lift my hips, feeling again the fullness inside my ass.

I watch her duck between my legs, gently rubbing the tip of John over my sensitive clit, barely bringing it to my only available opening. I’m panting, gasping, nearly about to cry out as she inserts the tip through the tight space that’s left. I am deliciously full. There is no more room left.

She repositions to sit on top of me again, the excitement overwhelming us both as she slowly moves back and forth, both of our sexes rubbing against the other until a stuttering cry falls from my lips.

I am spent, awash with pleasure, watching helplessly as Natalia continues her movement, finding her own release, pouring out over me, her juices running in rivulets down between my legs onto the sheets beneath us.

She removed what I could see now was a rectal gauge, and then the dildo, tossing them both in the bathroom sink for the maid to clean. She traipses back to the bed, lying down beside me, looking into my eyes.

Her fingers gently dancing over my breasts while my arms are still tied to the tethers. You’re mine, not his. Her tone is serious, as she continues to stare into my eyes. You do understand that.

I nod. I understood. Of all the men we had brought into our secret world there were only two rules. We never fell in love, and we never enjoyed the same man twice.

Natalia was the only one who had that kind of power over me, and she used it regularly. We shared our pictures for the world, but we only shared our hearts