Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 124
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Holland Hunnies
Chapter One
ÒYou first,Ó he said.
ÒHow do you want me?Ó I asked, kneeling as chastely as Delilah,
ready for all one might think to play cards or something.
ÒI want to go as deep as I can,Ó he replied tersely. I looked at him. I
was unlearned.
ÒTurn around, dear, show him your bottom. Get on all fours and do
it,Ó Delilah told me. She was ever so helpful in these matters.
ÒDonÕt I get a kiss or something?Ó I asked.
ÒYou get fucked, just like you asked,Ó he replied. ÒNo flowers, no
expensive dinners, and no fucking dancing. Get on your knees and show me
your ass.Ó His tone was gruff. I shivered, turned around. Once again I had
let myself in for something that now I could not escape. Helpfully Delilah
turned me about, kissed me once on the cheek, bent me down until my face
touched the mattress and my ass reared high. ÒYou have a great ass,Ó
Samson told me.
ÒThankyou,Ó I mumbled in reply, salvia in the corner of my mouth. He
prised me apart in back as Delilah stroked my hair. I felt open, terribly
open, my anus gaping at the air, my cuntlips wide. Suddenly he was at my
pussy, thrusting himself in, fighting my tightness. I was virginal still,
though my boyfriend had done me. He thrust into my clamping wetness and
warmth. I felt him driving in. Delilah consoled me as his thing rammed up
me, right up to my uterus. He adjusted his position, resettling his knees
on the mattress. His organ was up me and squeezed within me. He wanted
to get himself just right, based on how IÕd received him. Satisfied, he
began to stroke within me. His organ drew back, thrust up again. I heaved
on the mattress to help him. He shoved, I bucked. Again and again we
matched each other, fighting almost, fighting for our mutual pleasure upon
each otherÕs bodies. Quietly Delilah brushed my long locks with her
fingers, toying with her free hand down at her cunny, pleasuring her little
clitty with her long-nailed fingers.
ÒThatÕs it, dear, you are doing very well,Ó Delilah told me. ÒYou will
be a Grand Slut when you are through with Tarzan here. Do not hold back,
sir, fuck her and spend in her like the He-Man you are, otherwise we will
tell all the girls you are a wimp.Ó I was getting rammed quite ferociously
by now, and needed not any encouragement she sought to give him, getting
all his provoked anger thrust right up to my womb. He porked like an
animal. I felt overwhelmed. Lustily I managed to find my clitty, shower
my fingertips over it. I bucked, he met me. He overpowered my rearings
and dominated me. ÒHold yourself, do not come to soon,Ó Delilah
admonished him. I wished sheÕd shut up for I was getting pummelled by
the guy. Over the brink of orgasm I washed, though he did not meet me on
the other side. He kept furiously pumping me, until I rose again to meet
him, this time he was overcome by my clenchings. His seed erupted within
me. With volcanic fury he fucked me. I was but a child beneath, raped,
molested, though indeed my own fingers were doing the molesting. At
last, spent, he got off me. I collapsed onto my tummy. Delilah rolled me
over and mounted me. She squirmed atop me, butch-like, driving her
tongue into my mouth. Samson, finished, got up and walked out. I cared
not. Neither did she. I let her introduce me to lesbianism then, wriggling
beneath her as she found me and fingered me to new highs. Beyond, the
other couple found new inspiration watching us, and renewed their
passion.
Mistress Wentworth came into the room. Looking up at her, I lay in
DelilahÕs arms. I smiled. Mistress Wentworth bent down, offered us
drinks. We accepted, laughed. It was morning. IÕd wrestled all night with
Delilah, the only name I still had for her. Casually we lay together. I did
not want to sit up, nor did she. I poured my drink into her mouth, hitting
her face, moving my hand Ôtil I got the fluid between her lips. She did the
same for me, messily. I rolled atop her and we kissed once more.
Mistress Wentworth offered drinks to our friends. They accepted, poured
them on each otherÕs privates. The sting of the liquor revived them,
lifting the manÕs penis into the air, making his girlfriend ready. Mistress
left, they invited us over. We got up, joined them. We shared mouths,
bosoms, bottoms, the manÕs cock. There was no selfishness, only pleasure.
I came and came. Always there seemed to be a tongue invading my cunny.
The man was at ease in his hardness and speared us all, teasingly, finally
loosing himself in his girlfriend.
I got up. The man was sperming his girlfriend with the final thrusts.
Delilah wished to stay with them. I was done, wanted to shower, find my
boyfriend, Mark, Elizabeth. Delilah looked as if she wanted a kiss but I
gave her just a little wave instead, cupping my hand.
ÒBye, bye,Ó I said. She mouthed a goodbye in reply, not wishing to
disturb the couple. Their eyes lidded, they shuddered down from an
orgasmic peak. I turned, walked away. We had shared all, not knowing
even what our names were. I felt bouncy, happy, yet I wished to regain
some sense of decency somehow, now that IÕd had my fun.
I found Mistress Wentworth in the hall. She was just hanging a sign
on a door. It read: ÒGirls Only.Ó She looked up at me. She smiled.
ÒIf youÕre looking to wash up you can come in here,Ó she offered. ÒNo
men will bother you in here. With a new day the rules return. Girls must
be allowed their privacy, if they wish it.Ó
ÒThank you,Ó I replied. There was relief in my voice. IÕd had enough
cock, thank you, didnÕt need soapy male hands helping me with my shower.
Let alone cocks that wanted to scrub my ÔbackÕ.
I washed up with several other girls, each doing the othersÕ
inaccessible places, but for convenience only. We stood in a shower room,
a gang shower. I dried myself afterward and found several pairs of denim
shorts and cotton t-shirts on a bench.
ÒClothes,Ó a girl told me. ÒFree. In case you lost yours.Ó
ÒI did,Ó I replied with a guilty smile. She and I dressed ourselves.
There were slippers stacked neatly in a corner, rubber ones, open-toed, for
shoes.
With my flip-flops slapping, I left the house. I turned once, saw
Mistress Wentworth in the open doorway, letting out another girl. She
waved goodbye, I waved back. Mark and Elizabeth and Rob stood waiting on
the sidewalk. Modestly theyÕd congregated under a tree. The shade made
them less visible. They each wore Mistress WentworthÕs all-purpose free
clothing. There was no distinction between male and female. Each had
tight denim shorts on and a skimpy tee. I trotted down to them, wondering
how fat people were accommodated in Mistress WentworthÕs dungeon,
with my own free shorts riding high up on my asscheeks. The answer, of
course, was that they only ever found a modest house in a modest
neighborhood, and a friendly lady at the door who told them she had no idea
about any Ôdungeons.Õ
ÒHi!Ó I greeted my friends. The men, I saw, had somewhat longer
denim shorts than Elizabeth and I. But they were still tight. Their
crotches bulged in a manner that would have been considered a Ôcome onÕ
in the Tenderloin. Elizabeth kissed me. I kissed her back, kissed Mark,
finally my own Rob.
ÒI hope the cab comes soon,Ó Rob breathed when we finally broke our
embrace.
ÒMe too,Ó I said. Despite the soreness of my bottom I knew weÕd
both be going straight to bed the minute we got back to our hotel. I
glanced over at Elizabeth and Mark.
ÒI think we can save on room rentals from now on,Ó Elizabeth smiled.
There was a blush in her cheeks.
ÒMe too,Ó I smiled.
THE END
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Lady Fontaine
Chapter One
I slipped into the tanning salon. The attendant led me into a booth.
ÒHi!Ó a familiar voice greeted me. I glanced over my shoulder. In the
booth next to me was Debbie. IÕd met her at the workout center. WeÕd
exercised together several times. I smiled. She was a really nice person.
Her body was sleek and lean. Her bottom jutted up with that impertinent
heart-shaped thrust that men love. She wore flower-print bikini panties
that left just a vee of material in back to seductively cover her peach.
Not all of it, of course. Just enough to entice men to want to uncover
what they couldnÕt yet see. She seemed an expert at Òwinning the hearts
and other parts,Ó as she liked to say, of men. Her top was undone, cast
aside, lying forgotten on the floor. I glanced down at it. The floor was
polished hardwood, softly glowing with a fresh coat of wax. Her top
looked like a caught fish thrown up on the dock, then left behind by the
fisherman. I lifted my eyes to her again. Her arms supported her head as
she lay on her tummy. Her lovely breasts were compressed outward.
Large and generous, she had only to lift herself up to display their
dangling beauty to all who would see.
I breathed a hello to her and began undressing. I had much to take
off, it was winter. The attendant stood by and collected my things for me,
hung them in a little closet just outside our tanning booths. Stripped to
my bikini, I reached back and undid my top. ÒYou have lovely breasts,Ó I
said to Debbie, freeing my own. They sprang out, large and firm. They
were almost as big as hers, though I was a full year younger. She smiled
at me, my titties. She raised herself up. Her prize beauties bounced with
their fullness and she shook them at me, wantonly.
ÒWell, feast your eyes for the last time on them like this,Ó Debbie
laughed. Her voice was soft, musical. ÒMy boyfriend is going to pierce
them tonight!Ó My breath caught in my throat. I could say nothing. As I
stood there, facing her, our breasts bared, I lifted my hand to my throat.
At last I found my voice.
ÒI didnÕt know you were ready for that level of commitment,Ó I said
quietly, almost afraid to speak, to acknowledge what sheÕd just told me.
ÒI am,Ó she nodded. She seemed to need me to nod back. Slowly, I
did, not knowing why. She rose up. ÒPlease be there with me,Ó she asked.
Her eyes were moist, large. ÒI want someone to, you know, hold my hand,
so to speak.Ó
ÒYou want someone to get pierced with you!Ó I guessed, shocked. ÒTo
validate your decision.Ó
ÒYes,Ó she admitted.
ÒI donÕt know...Ó my voice trailed off. The attendant stood waiting,
mute. A man, mexican, illegal, did he know what we were saying? He
wished for me to lie down so he could turn on the lights and begin our
session. He offered me sunglasses. I took them, slowly. I put them on to
shield my eyes, leaving my bosoms bare, exposed. He offered glasses to
Debbie. She took them also. She put them on to hide her eyes. Her nipples
spoke to me, it seemed, their tips stiff. It was warm in here, yet her tits
were hard. I brushed my own with my hand. Coral. I felt a warm rush,
wanted to brush myself further down, in between, my secret place where
my panties still modestly covered me. ÒOh, God, Debbie!Ó I cried. I threw
myself down onto my own leather-covered bench. I thrust my hands down
by my sides. I wanted to yank down my panties, offer my bottom to the
lights. The attendant flicked them on. A blue-green glare washed over us.
I turned my head to Debbie. She was lying down again, on her tummy.
There was a bubble of saliva in the corner of my mouth. I let it drool out
onto the leather covering. The attendant offered us pillows. I accepted,
put my head on it. Soft, so soft, under the bathing lights. Yet my nipples
were rigid at the thought of pain. Of being run through with a sharp
needle. I wanted the attendant to bring a stiff birch and whack my bottom
with it, to punish me for my naughty thoughts. IÕd never possessed such
desires before. It was DebbieÕs fault. I should get up and spank her right
now. Run over to her and spank her fanny and then kidnap her away where
no boyfriend could ever pierce her nipples with rings.
Later we rolled onto our backs. We lifted our bras up off the floor,
placed them over our breasts to protect them. The lights browned our
flesh. Lightly, not too deep. But we wanted our breasts snow white, to
show off the contrast of our pink nipples. I felt again the desire to rip
down my panties. But men like white pussies too, matching the breasts.
And white bottoms. The better to see their marks when they whip us, I
thought, though IÕd never played such games. I looked over at Debbie. Had
she? Her bra showed little points in it where her nipples stuck up into the
fabric.
MAGAZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
PlayboyÕs Nudes, $6.95. E-mail: newstand@playboy.com
Review: Recently I saw a lady on T.V. who was criticizing
Òpornography.Ó So I guess I need to explain something to the ladies of the
world. We men buy pornography because we NEED it. Let me put it this
way, ladies: if you looked like the girls in PlayboyÕs Nudes, we men
wouldnÕt need to buy PlayboyÕs Nudes. We could just look at you. And if
you looked like the girls in PlayboyÕs Nudes and took your clothes off, and
smiled at us, we men wouldnÕt even THINK of buying PlayboyÕs Nudes. In
fact, weÕd never even get out of bed. YouÕd have us all to yourself.
But you donÕt look like the girls in PlayboyÕs Nudes. So, instead of
simply realizing this, and accepting it, you criticize Òpornography.Ó This
is like a man who is standing in the middle of the Sahara desert, needing a
drink, and you ladies tell him, ÒItÕs wrong to want to drink water! You
should want to drink sand!Ó
I was delighted with this new issue of PlayboyÕs Nudes, despite the
cover. It would be a good cover (after all, the girl on it is bent over), but
it features Stacy Sanches. At one time she was a young, luscious female.
But ever since her Playmate of the Year pictorial, sheÕs insisted on making
her face look like Bozo the Clown. Her eyebrows are all plucked out and
sheÕs replaced them with artificial lines. She wears way too much
lipstick. If I didnÕt know she was a woman, IÕd think Playboy had hired
some fag in drag to grace their cover. Why Stacy decided to look like Bozo
is beyond me. Maybe sheÕs punishing herself because she doesnÕt have a
date with holy joe.
Inside the magazine, the pictures get better. I suffered a major
eruption when I saw Lisa Forward, on pgs. 32 and 33. SheÕs holding a
riding crop and apparently wants to be disciplined with it. Then, I was
just getting my pants all straight again as I stood in the bookstore, when I
saw Heather Hamlin. (Pgs. 88 and 89.) She appears to be smarting from
just having been spanked. Looking at her, my backside exploded. (DonÕt eat
lots of beans before you go to the bookstore. Especially runny beans.) It
was Protect the Children Day at the bookstore so you can imagine how
embarrassed I felt waiting in line to buy PlayboyÕs Nudes, with my pants
in a disreputable state and all the little girls and their mothers holding
their noses. (Oh well, IÕm willing to suffer for great looking nudes!)
So anyway thatÕs my review of PlayboyÕs Nudes. As always, I remain
available to all the Playmates to give them advice on their hair, their
makeup, and which penis is best for them.
AND IN THE END...
YOU KNOW YOUÕRE A PERVERT WHEN...
You write a long story about a girl having a bath but havenÕt had a
bath in 3 days yourself. - h.j.
(IÕm just speaking hypothetically, of course!)
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-END OF 124 EMISSION