Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 131
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bordello Girls
Chapter One
Sylvia glanced back, followed my gaze. He saw us all admiring him,
blushed, suddenly did not know what to do with his hands. I guessed he
felt himself pledged somehow to the women at his feet. He was too young
to know he could fuck as he wished. Yet he was older than myself, and the
maid, though not older than Sylvia. She eyed his penis. There were no
roundabout methods here. Cocks and cunts were evaluated as frankly as
meat at a market.
ÒThatÕs a lovely pair of girls youÕve got there, maÕam. Or, rather, a
lovely pair of bottoms,Ó the boy/man said by way of introduction. He felt
as free in looking straight at our charms as we did in looking at his.
ÒCome, I must take them downstairs,Ó she said. ÒA cock like yours
just might cum in handy.Ó Her pronunciation left no doubt as to her
intentions. He walked forward, hands batting at his organ, wishing to rub
himself but fearing now to do so, afraid of losing a greater pleasure. He
stopped before Sylvia, let her touch him between his legs where his
scrotum hung down. ÒWe could use the cream in your balls at least,Ó
Sylvia said. She squeezed him. He flinched. ÒTo ease the pain in sore
bottoms.Ó She inspected him for signs of venereal disease. On the spot,
right there, in the middle of the ballroom. ÒYou must wear a condom,Ó she
concluded.
ÒI donÕt have any diseases!Ó the boy/man answered.
ÒI know, I just checked,Ó Sylvia replied. ÒAnd your checkup at the
doctor confirmed it, no doubt, before you were invited here. Still, I will
need you to wear a condom. Not for medical purposes, but to make you last
longer. You will not be allowed to fuck these girls for your own pleasure.
You are being asked to pleasure them. If you wear a condom, you will feel
less sensations when you fuck them. Therefore, your penis will remain
stiffer longer. It is as simple as that.Ó She drew out a condom from her
clothes and rolled it onto him, right there, in the grand party room, as he
stood watching her like a little boy.
ÒAck! I donÕt like this!Ó he said at last. ÒIt feels like its strangling
my dick!Ó
ÒIt is the extra large size, sir,Ó Sylvia replied demurely. ÒI donÕt
make them, you know. HavenÕt you ever worn a condom before?Ó
ÒNo,Ó he replied, matter-of-factly. He was barely out of his teens,
and had not grown into adult precautions yet, though you would not have
known it from the size of his cock, it was so big.
ÒWell, now is the time to learn,Ó Sylvia replied. ÒNow donÕt play
with yourself!Ó She slapped his bottom, loving how his haunches
contorted briefly under her blow. ÒYes! You will not be without a little
training yourself, young man. I will spank you well to teach you not to
frig yourself!Ó
ÒAh, God!Ó He said, a sudden burst of pleasure seizing him. He
grabbed his cock as soon as her hand had left his behind and rubbed
himself anew, up and down the long shaft.
ÒI said no!Ó Sylvia cried, angry now. She gave him more slaps as he
continued to grippingly massage his male organ.
ÒPlease!Ó The maid and I both cried at him suddenly, pleadingly. He
saw the plaintive look in our eyes, the desperation. We wanted him so
badly. He desisted. He dropped his hand. He stood before us, his cock
nervously twitching. His chest heaved. Our breasts rose and fell with our
breath. Sylvia sensed her power slipping away. She yanked our tethers
suddenly, angrily. We tripped forward, almost falling. Suddenly the
boy/man was at our backs, following, a dog in heat. We were the rabbits
again, our bottoms encouraging his pursuit. Sylvia had taken her power
back. Compliantly we followed her. We came to a door. She unlocked it.
A cool wind burst forth from below as she creaked it open. Cobwebs hung
in a corner of the doorÕs entrance, though whether they were real or fake I
could not tell. We were drawn down cellar stairs. Our nipples poked more
stiffly in the chilly air. The boy/man followed, his cock erect, properly
sheathed now, waving like a flag post.
My feet came upon carpeting. It was dark below. Sylvia groped,
found a light switch, even as the boy behind us passed his hands lovingly
over our bottoms. In the sudden light he desisted. The sight before us was
awesome. Machines, obviously designed for torture, stood before us.
There were many of them, as if a Nautilus designer had created a second
line-up, for private use only. They filled the basement. It was a dungeon,
I realized. Marla! How could you? I wanted to run, to hide. There was
nowhere to go, save into the mass of machines. The boy behind us had
unthinkingly closed the door above. IÕd heard it lock, thought nothing of it
at the moment, assuming we were being led downstairs to a den, a
bedroom. We would shoot pool in the nude and make love on the couch
while watching GilliganÕs Island.
ÒDo not be alarmed. They are all for sexual purposes,Ó Sylvia said,
seeing our shocked eyes. Even the boy was shocked. ÒGenital torture,Ó she
added, as if to ease our thoughts. ÒYou know, the cock, the pussy, the
anus, the breasts. They cannot harm you, unless you want them to. If you
want your nipples pierced or your ass branded or a ring put through your
cock, that can of course be done, but I donÕt like such things. Nipple rings,
perhaps, nothing else. Come, letÕs play!Ó With a frankness I couldnÕt help
admiring, she dropped our leashes and began removing her clothes. Her
body held us entranced as she shed her garments. She had full, womanly
breasts, bigger than most womenÕs, the kind men dream of using for
pillows in their sleep. Her shoulders were as slim as her wasp-like
waist, from which perfect hips flared out, to meet finally with leggy
legÕs, modelÕs legs, which she bared for us as easily as if she were about
to go swimming. Yet there was no water here, only torture devices.
ÒGet out of your things, Melissa!Ó Sylvia said with scolding words to
the maid. She advanced on her, naked now, a Vampire with white skin,
smooth skin. She rent open the maidÕs costume and yanked it off her.
Quietly the maid stepped out of her ruined clothes. She could certainly not
pass the dress code at any hotel now! (Save, perhaps, for private parties!)
Amidst my wicked thoughts I found myself suddenly with three other
people, nude as myself. It was wondrous, awesome. We stood about for a
moment, admiring each other, extremely curious, infants at a party of new
moms. At last I walked forward into the dungeon, the others following,
my leash still attached and dangling down between my legs.
My bottom rolling as I walked, I let the cool air of the dungeon wash
over my skin, raise my nipples even higher. I felt perky, alive. I knew I
might at any moment be bound, tied, straight-jacketed. Or perhaps I would
assist in putting someone else into restraints. I relished my freedom,
moving my wrists, feeling the tread of my ankles. I touched a dangling
cuff on an upright rape rack, wondering at whose wrist had been bound
here last. How many girls had been trussed into the wicked straps of the
rack? My fingertip traced the curving wooden bulge in the center of the
rackÕs wooden X. I could easily guess the purpose of the bulge. It was to
elevate the hips, to present the pussy to the master, or the penis to a
marauding mistress.
Sylvia came up behind me. ÒWhat do you think?Ó she asked.
ÒItÕs scary,Ó I breathed. IÕd only been fucked once, by a boyfriend
whoÕd not been too loving. HeÕd expressed his Òin and outÓ urge on me,
gullible me, a naive schoolgirl in the seventh grade. It had been Òhit and
run,Ó and IÕd run after that, until now. Now I felt ready. Sylvia could
sense it. She slipped her fingertip into my bottom. Right into the furrow,
not stopping, not exploring, just thrusting it right in there. I jammed my
cheeks together, a moment too late, trapping her instead of keeping her
out.
I turned my face to her. We gazed at each other a moment. Suddenly
I broke into laughter. It was so silly! She laughed back. My bottom cheeks
eased. She sought lower, found my tiny hole. ÒYou are like a little
rabbit,Ó she told me. ÒYou will be fun to train.Ó
ÒAt least I donÕt need any training,Ó our newly acquired boyfriend
announced. ÒI am a fucking professional.Ó
ÒYoung man, do you think you know all there is about the female
form?Ó Sylvia asked him. Her voice was amused. His face took on an
uncertain look.
ÒWell, IÕve fucked a lot of girls,Ó he said.
ÒWomen?Ó She asked. She was on to something. I admired how she
handled him so expertly. He made me tremble, he was so handsome, but
she managed him as if he were but some boy on a playground.
ÒWell, not too many women,Ó the boy admitted. A boy with a manÕs
chest, a manÕs height, and a manÕs cock.
ÒThen you know nothing,Ó Sylvia said dismissively. She turned back
to me. The boy/man looked downcast. Sylvia sent a ripple of pleasure
through me as she lightly touched my stomach, ran her hand over it. I felt
like she would impregnate me, magically, perhaps with her finger dipping
into my bellybutton. Her other hand kept a finger pressed to my rose.
ÒRelax,Ó she whispered to me. I stood bare skinned, the boy/man and
Melissa watching mutely. I was the star attraction in a play of my own
making. ÒYour heinie is so tense,Ó she breathed. ÒRelax.Ó Gradually I let
my cheeks loosen their hold on her finger. Suddenly the pressure became a
stiff poke and she was up me, her finger inside to the first knuckle.
ÒAckck!Ó I cried out unhappily. She had tricked me! Had I wanted her
to? I did not know. I was as confused as the man/boy with his condom
encased cock, bragging of exploits he might have only had in his dreams.
Sylvia bent low, bit my earlobe. ÒDo you wish to be fucked?Ó she
asked.
ÒNo!Ó I replied. I was honest. For once I was honest. I wanted her
finger out of my bottom. I wanted to run home to mommie.
The boy, inspired, circled around in front of me. His hard cock,
latex-sheathed, aimed at my cunt. He grasped me by my shoulders, turned
me enough so that I could offer my privates to him. I gazed down, his cock
came throbbingly close, a missile aiming at my tight little silo doors. The
head knocked. His knees were bent. He pushed my shoulders back. My
breasts bobbed upwards toward him, pointy-tipped. He pressed his chest
to my clinging breasts. His chest hairs tickled my teats. I wished I could
offer him milk, but instead he was the one delivering milk today. My legs
splayed open. I could not help myself. It was my posture, bent back,
Sylvia probing me from behind. I felt intensely vulnerable. A stranger
was greeting my pussy with his cock and I was unprotected. A girl with
open thighs and no panties is not in a safe situation.
A stab. Right into my tight puss. The boy, still nameless to me,
impelled his shaft within my most secret place. Melissa, watching,
squealed. She clapped her hands to her face. A pre-school girl watching
an impromptu lesson of birds and bees. Up me he went, suddenly. There
were no introductions. No flowers, not even the offer of a date. I felt his
presence drive deeper, higher, right up toward my womb. I tried to clamp
down upon him but it was no use. In back my bottom tightened. Sylvia, her
finger trapped, slapped my still sore cheeks. The stinging made me relent.
Briefly, but enough for her to achieve a higher purchase. Deeper she went
up my nether route even as the man at my front made his rude
acquaintance with me.
I was lost. Somewhere amidst MelissaÕs incessant squealing, I gave
way. Terribly tight IÕm sure to those who would have me, but internally I
relaxed. In my emotions I relaxed. I wanted the nameless stranger now,
sweeping me back, off my feet. And, strangely, I wanted Sylvia too.
Somewhere within me her fingertip massaged Steve through a membrane.
That was his name, I learned later, afterward, as we sat sipping tea,
contemplating further games. Steve, the cock boy, a cocky boy indeed,
fucking me without properly introducing himself. But he had made all the
introductions which mattered now. He thrust himself up to my womb, and
I wanted him there. I began pumping him, clamping down for pleasure, not
to reject him. With my tailor-made route I pumped him, much preferable,
IÕm sure, to the hand heÕd used before. ÔFuckingÕ all his many wonderful
girlfriends who never quite managed to separate themselves from the
pages of Penthouse. Two-dimensional always, until IÕd come along. Ah,
yes, and the women upstairs, women he didnÕt even remember now, when
Sylvia had asked him. They were just women whoÕd walked into his life at
a necessary moment, stripped off his pants and milked him. HeÕd done
them without thinking, a lusty boy, forgetting them now as the real dream
of his life opened before his eyes: me. Someone his age, or close enough.
Someone who reminded him of the girls whoÕd said ÔnoÕ at school, just to
tease him.
At least I imagined him thus. As he fucked me with ever more
skillful strokes I began to question my fantasy of his near-virginity.
Perhaps he needed that condom after all. Perhaps heÕd run through the
cheerleaders at his school like a knife goes through butter, sampling every
new crop of honeypots each year as they matriculated into the ninth grade.
Young girls, wide-eyed, eager to meet the football champ, surprised into
disbelief when he actually asked them out. He paid, of course. Until the
eveningÕs end. Then they simply gave him their panties in return, and the
hymen waiting beneath. An even exchange. Perhaps heÕd collected them
like some men collect butterflies. I did not know, I did not care. He was
in me now and I was near-virgin. He rutted within me expertly, holding
his come, or too stiff to even think yet of shooting it out. IÕd heard of men
like that, so stiff, so tight they couldnÕt come. He seemed to me to be that
way. It wasnÕt control, just hardened youth, as one might say. I breathed
upon his sloping shoulder, his arms gripping my waist, seizing me there.
ÒFucke me,Ó I said, lisping, sighing. I moved my hips as best I could
in time to him. Sylvia helped, tickling his shaft through the slim
membrane that separated my two routes. Suddenly Steve grunted. Her
tickling had got to him. I felt his cock flex. It seemed to expand within
me. I was full, fuller, would he split me? And then a rushing. I regretted
the condom then. I wanted my womb flooded, but there were just spasms.
I rushed to meet him. We danced, standing upright, me bent back a little,
our loins joined. Melissa cried ever louder. She would call the lifeguard
and he would rescue us from our drowning bliss.
I lay on a soft towel later, smiling, feeling quite open below. I
sipped mint tea. My eyes were knowing. A smile was on my lips. There
was no sperm around my cunt, like the first time IÕd been fucked, but no
blood either, no wrecked detritus of the goddess hymen. Just me, open and
quite moist, my bottomhole feeling as violated as my puss.
Melissa lay on a towel of her own. We were elevated above the floor,
on benches. Chains hung above us, unused, perhaps to be played with later.
Nun-like, Melissa lay on her tummy, her ass jutting up in girlish vibrancy,
but her face one of denial. She had her arms beneath her face. She was
pouting. SheÕd asked us to take her back upstairs but weÕd ignored her.
She was being difficult. Her bottom was very white. Perhaps she wanted
it spanked.
Sylvia reclined in a chair nearby. It leaned back, lounge-like, letting
her rest. Like a babe in arms, albeit a very big baby, Steve rested on her
lap. He lay with his back pillowed on her breasts. His hairy legs lay open,
his cock and balls showed themselves to us. There was a male frankness
about him that made my skin tingle in my most intimate places.
Coaxingly, Sylvia played with SteveÕs genitals. He was soft now, his
balls empty, lax. She touched him like some errant schoolmarm, playing
naughty after-school games with a favorite pupil. Suddenly he responded.
Not a muscle on his body moved, save his cock, which rose quite
unexpectedly to a state of partial erectness.
Melissa drew in her breath. Her hands slipped out from under her
face and she eased them down alongside her thighs. If she didnÕt know
what she was thinking, I did. I let my thighs open more widely, offering
my secret charms to Steve again if he would have me.
ÒOh, my,Ó Sylvia teased Steve. ÒI thought you were a girl for a while
there, but I see youÕve got something that makes that quite impossible.Ó
ÒYeah, and it will be jammed in your mouth if you donÕt shut up,Ó
Steve replied.
ÒMmmm, I am hungry for a nice hotdog, especially the extra long
kind,Ó Sylvia replied. They were challenging each other, parlaying. He no
longer wore a condom. His cock was fully visible, growing more erect
every second. I traced the pulsing veins along his shaft with my eyes.
Suddenly we heard a creaking sound. Melissa looked up, scared. She
did not take her hands away from her thighs but she lifted her chin. A
rabbit, a fawn. The hunter was coming. I turned, rose on my side, then
eased myself onto my belly. At least I could hide my breasts, my pussy,
from prying eyes. My bottom, though, was helpless. I would look foolish
putting my hands over it. I would tempt them to spank me. I did not think
to rise up and wrap the towel around me. We were erotic, we wanted
friends, we did not care who they were. Or did we? My emotions rushed
through me. I was sensual, I was Eve.
Downstairs came a heavy tread. It was a man. Then two. Then a
third...
MAGAZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Penthouse, December 1996, $6.99. http://www.penthousemag.com
Review: Hubba! Hubba! Hubba! What an issue this is. Fortunately
the cover is a piece of shit, so it may last long enough for you to hop
down to the bookstore and buy it.
I know, I know. NovemberÕs issue was, except for the comic, a
waste of money. But the December issue is one of the best IÕve ever
seen. In ÒBaiting the Lure,Ó two girls with shirts on but no pants make
love, and one girl appears to get something quite uncomfortable shoved
up her ass. The centerfold, Heather St. James, suns by the pool with a
top but no bottom on. And in ÒPees on Earth,Ó two trussed-up girls pee
onto the floor, staining it. But thatÕs not all! In a farewell treat, Pet
of the Year Andi Sue frolics in bondage-gear with a man-eating tiger.
She was a killer Pet of the Year from her first pictorial to her last!
(DonÕt worry, Andi, you can be Fuck DecencyÕs Pet of the Year if you
like.)
Oh, yes. The comic, Òclick!,Ó continues this issue. Claudia hides
under a donkey in a barn, but winds up getting tied to a stake on her
knees anyway. When the story stops weÕre left hanging: sheÕs
beginning to feel a diamond thatÕs stuck up her ass start to descend
down her rectum. Will it make an appearance next issue? IÕll be
waiting with baited breath to find out!
(Yes, Judge Bork, all of this is protected by the First Amendment; NOT
just Bob DoleÕs speeches.)
AND IN THE END...
Children, Our Most Precious National Resource?
ÒItÕs the image of the child as predator that fascinates the
presidential candidates. In the past, candidates had platforms; now
they offer lists of disciplinary measures.Ó
- Time, November 4, 1996, pg. 100.
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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statement to: roller666@aol.com
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-or send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 131 EMISSION
- Halloween note: Little girls begging for candy keep ringing my
doorbell. Should I give them a treat, or a trick?