SHE HAD SEX AT 13, YOU FUCKING AUSTRALIANS!

         Oops!  Please pardon my outburst.  In my review of the American 
Edition of Playboy, December 1996, I reported that Miss December 1996 
had sex at 13.  This fact can be found on page 114.
         However, when the Australian edition of Playboy came out, they 
changed Miss DecemberÕs age to 18.  
         I was worried.  Could it be that IÕm just a pervert... a child 
molester?  Are the feminists right?  Do girls wait until their 18th 
birthday to have sex?  
         Thankfully, I was at Tower Books today (in America, as usual) and I 
spied the MEXICAN edition of Playboy.  It too had PlayboyÕs Miss December, 
Victoria Silvstedt, in it.  So I checked her age again.
         13 ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
         Now, I could go into a lecture about how the Australians all started 
out as British Convicts.  I could say something like, ÒLearn to count, you 
fucking convicts.Ó  Or I could say, ÒStill lying and cheating, eh?Ó
         But I wonÕt.  Obviously the Australian edition of Playboy isnÕt 
published by lying convicts.  ItÕs published by yellow-bellied cowards, who 
are afraid to PUBLISH THE TRUTH!
         Is Adolf Hitler in charge of Australia?  Is the simple truth that a 
Playboy Playmate lost her virginity at 13 prohibited information?  Thank 
God for the honest, industrious Mexicans for having the BALLS to publish 
the truth!  It is amazing that a liberty conceived by the English people, 
freedom of the press, should now be extinguished in Australia, a former 
British Colony, while it lives on in Mexico, heir not of the Magna Carta but 
of the Spanish Inquisition!  
         Not only are the Mexicans willing to publish the truth, they even put 
out a better Playboy than that found here in America!  ÒWhen Jenny Met 
Santa,Ó in the American Playboy, begins with a very boring (and often 
reprinted) photo of Jenny emerging from SantaÕs toy sack.  But the Mexican 
issueÕs pictorial begins with a nude Jenny sitting on SantaÕs lap eating a 
Christmas cookie!  This is the most glorious photo IÕve ever seen of Jenny!  
Let me tell you, I will get MONTHS of masturbating pleasure out of this 
photo!  If you canÕt find this issue at Tower, head for the border!  ItÕs 
waiting down there in Mexico for you, and itÕs worth the trip.  
         Also, the Mexican issue I bought at Tower only cost $3.95.  The 
American issue costs $5.95.  To be sure, the printing in the Mexican issue 
is not quite up to American standards.  But unlike the American issue, the 
Mexican issue is not printed on thin tissue paper.  It is printed on THICK 
paper.  ALL the Playboys from all the foreign countries IÕve seen are 
printed on thick paper.  Australia, Japan, Mexico... only the American 
edition is printed on paper so thin it arrives Ôpre-wrinkled.Õ  (Or gets 
wrinkled the minute you open it!)
         The Mexican edition of Playboy includes two eleven-inch tall 
ÒMiniPostersÓ of Miss December.  (As well as the centerfold.)  Why the 
Mexicans include MiniPosters is beyond me, but they are a nice (and no 
doubt expensive) addition.  IÕd tell them to skip the MiniPosters and print 
the magazine itself with better presses, but all in all we can see that the 
Mexican edition of Playboy is SUPERIOR to the American edition.  
         (True, the whole thingÕs in Spanish, but IÕve never bought Playboy for 
the articles anyway.)
         So there you have it!  The Mexicans are honest, they print on thicker 
paper, they choose better photographs, and they even include two free 
ÒMiniPostersÓ in their issue.  They probably even have a lower age of 
consent than Australia!  A very fine country indeed.

         Now on to England!

Mayfair, Volume 31, Number 11, $6.99. 

         Review:  What a luscious issue!  The glorious, barely 18 Claire Cass 
stars in a pictorial as a nurse.  The pictorial begins with her looking very 
demure, in glasses, with her hair nicely pinned up, and wearing a sedate 
uniform.  But it must be time for her yearly physical, for sheÕs soon naked 
on a hospital bed!  
         Watch as Claire spreads her legs for a pap smear.  (Hanging on to the 
bed railing... because a pap smear hurts!)  (At least I think it does... IÕm not 
an expert on them.)  Watch as Claire squeezes her bosom to show you her 
little nipple still works.  Then, even more gloriously, watch as she bends 
over next to an I.V. pole with an enema bag hanging from it!
         Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ! ! !
         (Sorry, I had a minor accident there.)
         As regular readers of Mayfair know, this is not ClaireÕs first 
pictorial.  She is the favorite Mayfair girl of all time, despite (or perhaps 
because of) her pert little breasts.  Next month she promises to star in a 
pictorial again, and she says, ÒI want to get into something really kinky 
next time!Ó
         Now, IÕll probably be too busy reading Oprah WinfreyÕs new book to 
pick up next monthÕs issue, but you never know... I might ÔaccidentallyÕ 
wind up at Tower and somehow bump into the porno rack!
         A final word:  would all you guys who read the porno at Tower please 
WASH YOUR HANDS?!!!  Good God, those magazines are always so greasy!  I 
mean, every issue I buy there is coated with some kind of slimy, icky oil 
that gets all over my (admittedly sweaty) palms and makes me fear that 
IÕll bring home some deadly disease.  Even reviewing these issues, I had to 
use special care.  I had to wash my hands each and every time I flipped 
through them.  ItÕs tough to review a magazine when you have to wash your 
hands repeatedly.  I mean, I have to do a little browsing, a little typing, 
checking names and stuff, and then I keep having to run to the bathroom 
too!  But these magazines are so horribly icky that even a pervert like me 
has to take special precautions.  (You should see me ÔreadingÕ them on the 
toilet!)  
         Do I have to install some kind of a decontamination chamber in my 
house?  Please, guys, a simple hand washing, plus keeping your hands OUT 
of your pants while youÕre standing at Tower, should do the trick.  I 
realize sometimes a little girl walks by, and you lose control of yourself, 
but if you concentrate real hard on the porno, like I do, maybe you wonÕt 
see her!  
         (IÕm thinking of taking a box of Handi-Wipes with me to Tower.  If 
you see some fat guy standing at Tower wiping each of the magazines 
before he picks them up, thatÕs me!)

                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                                          FUCK DECENCY
                                          Issue No. 173

                              Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                            Puppy Love

                                           Chapter One

         Thus tied, her legs well spread, her cucumber cock sticking up lewd 
as any ninth-graderÕs penis, Anna found herself fully decorated and 
prepared.  Jasmine approached with a small thin whip and spoke softly to 
Anna.  
         ÒPlease not too hard,Ó I thought I heard Anna mumble, though there 
was a strawberry in her mouth which prevented her words from being 
coherent.  Decorum, I guessed, dictated that she not lose the berry, or eat 
it up until permitted to.  
         ÒOoofph!Ó Anna cried suddenly, as Jasmine brought the whip down 
hard onto her lovely flat belly.
         ÒItÕs to see if she can hold in the Strawberry,Ó Rachel whispered to 
me.  I saw she was frigging herself between her legs, freely, not minding 
that it might get her in trouble.  I considered a moment, decided I needed a 
little attention myself.  I put my hand to my puss and rubbed hesitantly, 
not really wanting to do what I knew I couldnÕt help.  The scene was just 
too overwhelming, too powerful.
         ÒOoopfth!  Opppgh!  Ooomph!Ó  Anna burfed into her strawberry, 
clutching it madly twixt her polished teeth lest she get into further 
trouble by dropping it.  JasmineÕs switch tested her resolve as the whip 
marked AnnaÕs soft white skin, daring even to lightly mark her breasts.  
Tara, meanwhile, bent forward on the hassock and took the end of AnnaÕs 
cucumber in her mouth.  Orally she began fucking Anna, moving the 
cucumber to and fro, controlling it only with her mouth just as Anna 
strove to keep her strawberry properly placed in her lips.
         ÒOhh!  Ohh!Ó  I heard Anna moan, aroused by the moving cucumber, and 
realized it was accompanied by little cries from Rachel, beside me.
         ÒShhhh!Ó I scolded her.
         ÒI canÕt help it!Ó she answered, gritting her teeth.
         ÒQuit playing with yourself!Ó
         ÒYou are!Ó she answered.  Together we approached bliss under our 
own guidance, enthralled by AnnaÕs luscious human desert, by the men who 
were undressing now around her, their hairy butts and legs coming into 
view as they prepared to give her some cream of their own.  The redhead 
plucked AnnaÕs strawberry from her mouth.  I guessed, perhaps she 
guessed as well, that a penis was to be put there instead.
         ÒHereÕs the topping!Ó the redhead proclaimed suddenly, and brought a 
big lemon meringue pie suddenly down on AnnaÕs face.  Anna leapt up, her 
tummy rising, her breasts heaving.  The pie pan was removed and Anna was 
left with cake batter and lemon-flavored cream on her face, laughing.  I 
saw her pink tongue stick up through the cream and lick away some of it, a 
little flag seemingly, a fleshy flag, showing Anna was still alive down 
there under all that mortifying cream.
         Jasmine tossed away her whip.  She unzipped her gown and stepped 
completely out of it.  She got on the bed and she and the redhead set about 
licking AnnaÕs nipples clean of cream.  The men, meanwhile, began 
massaging their organs, in preparation, I overheard, for shooting sperm 
onto AnnaÕs nipples in place of the Cool-Whip.  Tara kept fucking Anna 
with the cucumber, still using her mouth, but going deeper with it now, 
unrestrained by any desire to keep Anna looking pretty.
         Rachel, who must have been imagining herself fucked by the 
cucumber as she watched, suddenly let out a small howl of pleasure.  My 
eyes darted to her, my own fingers guiltily rubbing myself.  Other eyes 
turned, those of the guests, and we were spotted!  
         ÒYikes!Ó I cried, and I think Rachel did too, for we were scared to 
death of being discovered.  We were like naughty children, spying on our 
parents, seeing things we were strictly forbidden from even asking about.  
Anna might have been our mother, seeing how thoroughly sheÕd subjugated 
us to her will.  And yet now we witnessed her own subjugation; bound, her 
face smeared with pie cream, her pussy opened and filled and her nipples, 
newly wet and licked clean of cream, about to be defiled with wads of 
male sperm.  Rachel and I ducked behind the couch, not looking now, our 
heads withdrawn, like Jacks squirreling themselves back into their 
respective Boxes.
         I was still so overwhelmed by what IÕd seen that I couldnÕt stop 
tickling my clitty.  Even as I heard the stern footfalls of a male 
approaching, his polished shoes heavy and loud on the polished wooden 
floor, I couldnÕt stop frigging myself; nor could Rachel.  Suddenly master 
appeared, wearing a fine silk suit, looking like a million dollars.  Rachel 
and I, crouching, pouting for forgiveness, looked up at him like frightened 
hares, our knees awkwardly open, our fingers pleasuring our clits even as 
we tried to look like good little girls waiting for a ride to Sunday School.
         ÒGet up!Ó master said.  It was then I noticed he was unzipped.  His 
schlong, as fresh as his new suit, swung in semi-erection between his 
legs.  A womanÕs lipstick adorned the head, and I knew at once Rachel and I 
had interrupted some delicious pleasure heÕd just been embarking on.
         ÒOh, please!Ó Rachel blurted, as we stood and master took each of us 
roughly by the ear, finding hers easily, because of her ponytail, fumbling 
for mine beneath my wealth of blonde hair.  He walked with us toward the 
guests.  We approached in our naughtily abbreviated tees, our nipples 
wiggling beneath the sheared fabric.  It performed an unwanted peepshow 
for us, bouncing as our breasts bounced, covering our nipples and then 
revealing them.  Rachel and I had not even searched for panties to cover 
ourselves, though we had the run of the house, until now.  I felt hugely 
embarrassed, realizing I was showing myself to these elegant guests this 
way, captains of industry, society ladies, my muff bare and my chest all 
but uncovered, nude except for my warm little socks that were as pink as 
my cunny.
         The redhead and Jasmine stared at me, whipped cream on their 
noses, their lips.  I felt awful for interrupting their private pleasure.  
Tara, her mouth still gorged on the cucumber, stared at us sideways.  Anna 
blinked and opened her eyes, wriggled her wrists as if to get free, flexed 
her forced open thighs against the intrusion of the monstrous fake organ 
that split her so well.  There was a general bustling, as if the interrupted 
party might suddenly end.
         Tara lifted her wet mouth from the cucumber.  She smacked her lips.  
Did the cucumber taste good?  I doubted it.  She probably felt the 
greenness of it suddenly, the vegetable quality, the spell broken, dashed.  
Anna looked as if she were no longer so happy at being made into dessert.  
Was the cucumber, in this new harsh light of discovered reality, this 
plunge back to normalcy, a newly realized discomfort?  It was huge, it 
must have filled her beyond what sheÕd expected, did its rending nature 
now make her desperate to be rid of it?  Tara placed a finger on the 
cucumberÕs tip, even as Anna struggled to sit up.  ÔNot yet,Õ TaraÕs finger 
seemed to say.  The redhead touched a hand to AnnaÕs shoulder to keep her 
lying in place.
         ÒIÕm sorry, I canÕt wait,Ó the unattractive man said bruskly.  He and 
his male partner, who looked vastly better than he but seemed equally 
frantic, advanced upon Anna, placed one knee on the bed and, drawing 
close, spurted his load with quick-fisted strokes onto one each, 
respectively, of AnnaÕs nipples.  She watched, aghast, as indeed were the 
others.  For long moments all stood immobile, even Rachel and myself and 
master, watching as the long-shooting spurts of male seed pulsed out onto 
AnnaÕs breasts.
         At last the unattractive man withdrew.  His partner remained, 
stayed by a scissored touch of JasmineÕs fingers upon his cock.  He was 
young, perhaps no more than 20, and his hardness remained, though the 
stiffness of his organ might have slackened just a little, in satisfaction.  
Jasmine saw he might be useful again and restrained him with her two 
fingers, strangely looking as if she might, were they sharp, cut his cock 
off and keep it forever for herself.  Jasmine Scissorhands, she fancied 
herself perhaps.  The effect was the same, the young man remained just as 
she bid him too, his quivering cock near to the breast heÕd made his 
deposit upon, perhaps already dreaming of making a second.
         ÒWe must go, Shaftsbury,Ó the unattractive manÕs equally 
unattractive wife said.  She hoisted her husbandÕs pants up over his hairy 
arse, he zipped himself, snapped shut his pants, but was not given time to 
buckle his belt.  His wife, restoring her dress, picked up her purse and took 
his hand.  Together they hustled themselves from the room, all eyes 
momentarily following them.  Another couple, much better looking, also 
rose and left.  There were less of us now, though Rachel and I had just 
added two more pussies to the mix, to the resentment, I was sure, of the 
remaining women.
         ÒLick AnnaÕs breasts clean!Ó master commanded, and threw Rachel 
and I toward the bed.  Stumbling into it, we kneed our way up onto the 
sheets and stared at the product of male hubris that besmeared AnnaÕs 
teats.
         ÒEwwww, yuck!Ó I cried, for it was I who had been given the 
unattractive manÕs sperm.  Rachel, with a glance at the young donor of her 
feast, decided to get about licking lest she get one on her bottom.  Master 
withdrew his belt to persuade me.  
         ÒHe is clean, free of disease,Ó master said of our departed guest.  ÒI 
do not wish to see good male sperm go to waste.  Lap it up, Barbi.  You are 
my slave now and will do as I say.Ó  He snapped the belt through the air 
once, nearly hitting me, making my bottom flinch forward, putting me even 
closer to the disgusting sperm-residue that awaited me.  
         I felt a light touch in the small of my back.  Bashfully I turned and 
saw the redhead woman staring at me.  She let her eyelids flutter.  Her 
smile was delicate.  I felt the pricking of her nails down by my tailbone.  
ÒHi, IÕm Sonja,Ó she said to me with quiet grace.  A strand of hair fell over 
one of her eyes, she brushed it back.  Her full bosoms jiggled above the 
still-modest wrapping of her dress about her waist.  ÒAnd youÕre...?Ó
         ÒBarbi,Ó I mouthed.  
         Her fingers flitted to my head.  ÒWelcome to the party, Barbi,Ó she 
said sweetly, and then pushed my head firmly down toward AnnaÕs nearest 
breast.  A moment later my lips were in the manÕs seed, and I was kissing 
Anna, trying to forget the horrid sperm as I placed tongue-lapping kisses 
upon AnnaÕs breast.
         For a few soft moments there was only the sound of Rachel and I, 
tongues lapping, eating up the male stuff that Anna had so graciously 
permitted to adorn her person.  Anna herself, her hands still tied, began 
once again to feel the mouth-fucking movements of TaraÕs cucumber in her 
puss.  She sighed, squirmed a little, expressed a plea that she be let up, 
was shushed by Jasmine and Sonja, who supervised all.  When AnnaÕs 
breasts were clean Rachel and I were allowed to lift our heads.  We both 
looked at once at master, who stood still with belt in hand.  My face was 
besmirched with sperm, my lips glistening, as was RachelÕs.
         ÒMay I play with myself?Ó Rachel asked abruptly, her hand darting 
between her thighs.
         ÒNo!Ó master answered, his penis stiff, showing off his lipsticked 
male crest, as if displaying a trophy.
         ÒGet up!Ó master said suddenly to Anna.  She lifted her head, looked 
at him with wide eyes.  ÒYou heard me, get up!Ó  
         All the females adopted a quizzical look.  The males, though, seated 
around us, smiled slyly, as if anticipating pure decadence...

                                        AND IN THE END...

                                          BYE, BYE, CDA

         ÒNot even the most powerful computers will be able to effectively 
patrol the world's telephone lines...  They can try to control the telephone 
system with supercomputers, but when low orbit satellites can give you 
direct phone service, no computer is going to trace that.Ó

- Reuters, January 20, 1997

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-END OF 173 EMISSION
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