ROMEO, WHERE ART THOU?
(oh. I see.)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 186
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter One
And you know what? In my fear, almost peeing in the bed (in HIS
bed!) I was so afraid...in my fear I loved him even more. He was tall, lanky,
strong, and he was so visibly wounded, the wounds from his battle with
Ms. Tuppence, to regain Barbi, his love, the girl who was his love but whom
he could not call, Ômy love,Õ because he was too proud. And now me, I was
his love too, probably even more than Barbi (at least I hoped!) And not only
was he facing Ms. Tuppence, poor man. He was facing my father! And he
didnÕt even know.
He whirled upon me with a sudden menace, coiling, like a snake, his
hands upraised, his teeth bared to me, ready to strike. ÒYou at least can
go!Ó he snarled at me. ÒGet out! Get out of my bed right now and go! I
have too many females already.Ó
God, how I feared him, and loved him too! I wanted to cry. And I
almost did, but I controlled myself at the last moment, knowing if I burst
into tears he would dismiss me as a mere child. Instead I leapt at him, I
grabbed him before he could grab me. I pressed my flesh into his, I
wriggled with all the jiggly curves I had to offer pressed alluringly
against him. ÒIÕm sorry, master!Ó I said. And I kissed his hairy chest. I
licked his nipple. And I pushed my cunny against his shriveled cock and
rubbed my private parts to his like a bitch wanting a pregnancy.
He dropped his hands to my ass and squeezed my hind cheeks so hard
I yelped. I could feel him boiling inside. He breathed hard, his breath
rasping. ÒIf you stay,Ó he said, his breath rasping. ÒIf you stay you will
be made to serve me. Do you understand? I am not your father. I am not
your boyfriend. You will serve me, MY needs, not yours.Ó Forcefully he
yanked apart my asscheeks and I almost shouted, I felt so abruptly,
violently opened, spread apart. I could feel the cool air whistling dixie in
my wrenched open butthole. I thought at any moment Barbi might stab her
finger into it and claim my cherry for herself. ÔFirst In,Õ as the Airborne
guys say.
ÒIÕm yours,Ó I said, quietly, so that only he could hear it. Barbi,
sitting on the bed, watched us like a cat, wishing she could play my role,
IÕll bet.
ÒAlright,Ó he answered. He pushed me from him. ÒYouÕve agreed.
And you know I am above the law. Here, I am the law. You have now agreed
to my terms.Ó He looked at me almost hopefully, perhaps wishing IÕd bolt
from his bedroom, and run home before we were truly settled on the
matter. But, feeling frisky, not wanting anything more to do with my
mother, I bent down and kissed his feet. He watched in awe as my naked
ass rose up behind me, my cheeks still quivering from how heÕd handled me
there. I kissed each of his toes in turn. It was my choice, and he knew it,
and he swore over me, knowing I was taking control again, even as I
submitted myself to him. ÒYou do not know what you have gotten into, but
you have agreed,Ó he said aloud, as if pronouncing sentence on me. ÒStand
up and receive me.Ó
I looked up. He was hard again! Just like that, IÕd made him stiff.
He had me lift up my head, still on my knees, and receive his penis in my
mouth. Barbi, quick with a kleenex, insisted on daubing him with a touch
of champagne before he shoved himself into my mouth. How lucky I was
that theyÕd shared breakfast in bed before heÕd come down to the beach! I
swear, if the champagne had not been handy, the bottle sitting nearly
empty on the bedside nightstand, he would have shoved his shit-daubed
cock directly into my mouth.
As it was, I took a freshly washed champagne cock in my mouth. He
still felt reserved about me, and just let me suck the tip of his spear, not
gagging me on it, until at last I received his seed in my mouth and gulped
it down. Then, my lips appreciatively wet, smacking them to make Barbi
jealous, I stood. He bade me to stand and had Barbi get a small length of
leather string from the nightstand.
ÒThis is your collar,Ó Barbi told me. ÒYou do not deserve a real
collar yet. You must be trained first. For now, you will wear this,Ó she
told me, glancing at Master to ensure she had his approval for every word
she said. I nodded, feeling scared again, but relishing my nudity. He
stared at me, a mere 13-year-old, as if I were a full-grown girl in
Penthouse! My nipples wiggled and I gazed at him with fey innocence as
Barbi tied the Òjunior collarÓ around my neck. It was a mere string,
nothing more, made of rawhide. Rawhide on my raw body.
Barbi kissed me on the lips when she was done tying me into my
collar. I felt like a puppy. Master, truly my master now, bent and kissed
my lips too. ÒNow, as your first lesson, you must buckle Barbi into her
collar,Ó master told me. ÒI have let her have unwarranted liberties here,
in these last few days, because, frankly, I was obsessed with you lying on
the beach in the mornings. She made me let her take her collar off,
because, of course, if youÕd been approached by a girl wearing a collar you
might have run away.Ó
ÒI might have,Ó I replied. ÒShe had handcuffs slung through her
bikini, but I might have been freaked out if sheÕd been wearing a collar!Ó
ÒWell now you get to fasten it on,Ó master instructed. ÒGo get it out
of the night table.Ó I went to the nightstand as she stood and embraced
him. I felt jealous, yet lucky, to be in such strange company. What would
my mom think now? IÕll bet she never bedded a drug lord! I turned around,
waited, and at last they separated. I walked up to Barbi and, with a
vindictive gleam in my eyes, buckled a simple black dogÕs collar around
her slim throat.
ÒThis is for you,Ó I told her. Master retrieved a key from someplace
nearby and handed it to me. It was small, golden. ÒLock it and she wonÕt
be able to get it undone,Ó he told me. I saw that the end of the collar had,
upon being buckled, fitted through something that had a keyhole in it.
Sticking my tongue into the corner of my mouth, wanting to make sure I
got this right, I put the key into the tiny lockhole and twisted it. Click!
Somewhere inside, a mechanism locked down on the collar. Now she was
truly masterÕs. He pulled both of us close. Placing a warm, huge palm on
each of our squirming bottoms, he kissed us. I wanted him to take me
right there, but he said there was no time. He ordered us both to the
shower.
In the master bathroom there was a tub and, beside it, just across
the tiled floor, a little shower cubicle. Master turned on the tub water for
himself to soak in and told us both to get into the cubicle. Barbi must
have known already what to do for she led me into the cubicle, then left
the door open so he could watch.
Instead of turning on the shower, Barbi got a brass pail that was
sitting on a bench in the bathroom and filled it under a faucet. The faucet
was low to the ground, just outside the cubicle. Master seemed to drink in
her asscheeks as she knelt and filled the pail, so sweetly heartshaped, so
deliciously offered to his view as he sank into the rapidly-filling tub.
Barbi wet me down, then herself, dumping the pail over each of us.
The water was ice cold! I screamed as I felt it hit my warm, comfy body.
To go from a warm bed to this! Master laughed to himself, enjoying my
discomfort.
ÒThatÕs--thatÕs enough! IÕm wet enough!Ó I cried, as Barbi went to
fetch an obligatory second pail for me.
ÒThis is nothing, honey,Ó Barbi told me frankly. ÒCompared to whatÕs
to come.Ó
ÒN-Nooo,Ó I pleaded.
ÒAre you going to run away now, just because of some icewater?Ó
master taunted me. I think he really did want to see me flee. And I
almost did, seeing that second bucketful of glacier-cold water coming
toward me. But, at the last moment, I balled my fists, shut my eyes, and
counted to ten. ÔDonÕt look like a little girl,Õ I told myself. ÔDonÕt be a
little baby.Õ
ÒReady?Ó Barbi asked. Why couldnÕt she just dump the bucket? Why
did she have to torment me with it?
I hunched my shoulders. I felt very naked. My breasts bulged
between my inward-squeezing arms.
ÒNo,Ó I breathed, and held my breath. I expected the water to come
splooshing down.
ÒReady?Ó Barbi asked, a little insistent now. Her arms, I guessed,
were starting to tremble as she held that heavy bucket aloft over me.
ÒNo,Ó I answered. Alright, Barbi, letÕs play your game, your way.
Can you hold the bucket forever? I doubt it.
I heard the bucket set down behind me. Had I won? Slowly I opened
my eyes. Suddenly Barbi grabbed me by the hair.
ÒYeeow!Ó I cried as she dragged me over to the toilet. She sat right
down on it, even though she didnÕt have to go, even though the cover was
up. She tossed me over her slim modelÕs thighs and slapped my bottom
hard.
ÒOooh! Oooch! Yeowch!Ó I blurted, as she gave me three swift cracks
with her palm right across my heinie. Master laughed heartily, loving our
impromptu entertainment.
ÒYou WILL take the bucket,Ó Barbi, shivering herself from her own
first-bucket dousing, told me.
ÒOkay, okay!Ó I replied, gasping. She drew me up off her lap and
marched me back to the little cubicle of torture. She picked up the bucket,
asked again if I was ready, and this time I answered, quite meekly, Ôyes.Õ
Whoosh! Down came that second dreaded bucket. When all the water
had been emptied from it, Barbi went to the faucet, filled it once more,
and, as I stood freezing, squeezing myself with my arms and admiring her
fortitude, she hefted the bucket over hear pretty head and wet herself
with it. Then, shivering as deeply as I, she returned to the safety of the
cubicle with me. There we soaped each other, and finally turned on hot
water to rinse off. It was my first test. I passed with flying colors.
Master was proud of me.
Barbi and I stood at the sink after our shower and washed our bikinis
in specially softened water. Anna brought mine up from the yard,
introduced herself, and gave Barbi her own bikini (which had lain in the
yard since yesterday when Barbi had cast if off for a moonlight swim with
master.) As master continued to enjoy his bath, Barbi and I, working
diligently, scrubbed our little bikinis so theyÕd be nice and fresh for him.
While we worked, Barbi began to tell me what was in store for me as a
loveslave in masterÕs house.
ÒYou must be trained,Ó she said. ÒYou will do all sorts of things for
master. Whatever he asks, and whenever he asks it. Promptly. DonÕt
hesitate. You arenÕt at home any more. Here master rules, and you obey. I
love serving my master, and he loves me because I serve him.Ó Her voice
was sugary-soft. Her words caressed me. I glanced at master, wishing I
could know I would obey him. But I didnÕt. IÕd been spoiled all my life. I
might at any moment become rebellious, like with the water, such a
simple thing. And yet IÕd rebelled.
ÒIÕm going to take you both into the country,Ó master interrupted.
ÒYou need training yourself, Barbi, and you certainly, Fury.Ó
ÒFury?Ó I asked. My eyes lifted up from my work.
ÒIt is your new name,Ó he answered. ÒYou are bold. And it is good,
for you must be bold, where I am taking you, for your training. Whenever
the going gets rough, remember the nickname IÕve given you...
NAKED AT THE NEWSSTAND
by holy joe
Men can be so abusive. Why is it that every time I cum home from
Tower I have at least one magazine that is fucked up? Today I had to buy
not one, but TWO copies of two different magazines just so IÕd have one
undamaged copy between the two. (Looking back and forth between each.)
Guys, itÕs time for a little Porno Etiquette. I know etiquette isnÕt a
manÕs thing, but when it comes to porn, we must be a little respectful.
How do the covers of magazines at Tower get so horribly ripped?
IÕve wondered about this for a long time. I think IÕve finally figured it out.
It involves the little white tab some magazines put on their open side to
keep you from peeking inside.
Please, men, donÕt rip that tab off! Be careful! Some of us actually
sell enough cans at the recycling center to buy porn. We donÕt want to
take a damaged copy to bed. HereÕs how you get that little white tab to
open. First, think of it as the cherry on a virgin. Be gentle. Carefully
insert your finger into the middle of the magazine. Next, very slyly, so the
clerk doesnÕt see you, slip your finger down the open side of the magazine.
Look away while youÕre doing it. You donÕt want anyone to know youÕre
breaking the law. Build up some speed on your finger as it is slicing down.
It should hit the tab already moving. YouÕll hear a Òpop.Ó That will tell
you that the tab has burst. Now you can leisurely read the magazine. Even
if the clerk saw you in the act, since you werenÕt watching what you were
doing, you can claim it was an accident. Cool, huh? And it means the
cover isnÕt ripped when a wealthy pervert like me shows up to buy it.
Now, how to handle a porn magazine? This is important. Too often I
find pages that are dented. There will be a beautiful photo of a girlÕs butt,
and right in the middle of it thereÕs a fucking dent! Did YOU do that,
hmmm? Well, donÕt! I happen to like girlÕs butts a lot. Also their tits,
too, so be careful with them also.
Hold the magazine very gently. Try to hold it near the corners, if
possible. Usually a butt or tit doesnÕt bleed to the corner of a page.
Rather, if it bleeds to the edge, it will bleed to the center portion of the
edge. (Where stupid people put their hands.) If you handle the magazine at
the corners, youÕre much less likely to dent the pages.
When you turn the pages, do it so that there is a slight ÔrollÕ to each
page as it is opened. This will greatly decrease the likelihood of denting
the page. If youÕre holding it by the corner, and the magazine is Playboy
(whose pages stick together), the ÔrollÕ technique holds the best chance of
getting the magazine to open without damaging it.
Next is the matter of breathing. DonÕt breathe on the pages. Even
though you canÕt see it, your breath contains minute particles of water.
As you know, water is dangerous. It can dampen and otherwise harm our
porn. Please try to angle your mouth above or below the magazine page, so
that your breath exhales away from the photo. Of course you should
always hold the magazine far enough away from you that any drooling that
occurs falls on you instead of the magazine. And remember, wet hair can
drip. If itÕs raining outside, and you ran in from the rain, PLEASE read a
book by Oprah until you dry off. Nobody cares if you drip on her.
When youÕre finished ÔreadingÕ a magazine at Tower, please attempt
to return it to its proper location. Generally, the most popular magazines
are down front, while the imports are on the very top shelf. In between
we have Ôsecond tierÕ magazines like ÒLeg Action,Ó ÒGallery,Ó ÒClub
International,Ó etc. I realize that some Tower locations do a horrid job of
keeping the magazines tidy, but if everything is neat and orderly when you
arrive, it should look the same way when you leave.
Now, letÕs discuss what REALLY fucks up the magazines and gets
them all dented and out of order on the newsstand. Too many men. Today I
had to practically fight you guys at Tower, there were so many of you! So
letÕs arrange a little Ôpecking orderÕ as to who has the courtesy of going
first. If you are short, you should go first. After all, tall guys can reach
over short guys, but short guys canÕt reach over tall guys.
Next, if you have a big stomach, you should go first. Fat guys like me
are already in greater danger of getting a heart attack. Looking at porn
only makes it worse. And having to STRAIN to get around some healthy
skinny guy makes my heart even worse off! So, if youÕre skinny, please let
us unhealthy fat guys have first crack at the porn. YouÕll still be alive to
read next monthÕs issue. We might not be.
Also, since this is the era of Law and Order, anybody with a
mustache should be allowed to go first. After all, he might be a cop with
the vice squad or something. ItÕs his JOB to masturbate over all that porn!
So if you see a guy with a mustache, let him go first. Your taxes are
paying his salary. You donÕt want him loitering around Tower on your dime
waiting for you to finish with a magazine he hasnÕt read yet.
Next comes people with rubber gloves. A man with rubber gloves
isnÕt some sissy whoÕs worried about getting other peopleÕs germs. He is
a Sanitation Worker. HeÕs checking the porn to make sure it meets with
all of the state environmental standards for health and cleanliness. I
know of one guy who stays at Tower all day long, checking each and every
page of every magazine, just to make sure itÕs nice and clean. Please, let
the Sanitation Man do his work. HeÕs protecting your health!
Next we come to guerilla tactics for reading porn! The bookstore is
crowded. How do you get past all the men crowding the porno rack, so you
can read too? (And read the good magazines, not the shitty ones nobodyÕs
buying.) Well, since IÕm feeling generous, hereÕs what to do:
1. Eat a lot of beans before you go to Tower. (Now we know why Ben
Franklin said, ÒFart Proudly.Ó
2. DonÕt wear underarm deodorant. (You can say youÕre an admirer of
Ted Kaczynski.)
3. (this is a little desperate) Put on a dress and wig and walk boldly
up behind all the men at the porno rack and say, ÒGentlemen, please! Porno
is harmful and dangerous to our precious children!Ó
4. Say, ÒMy God! I didnÕt know cheerleaders were allowed to wear
skirts that short!Ó (At least if IÕm there youÕll get one pervert to drop
what heÕs reading!)
5. Say, ÒWhy is Channel 4 filming in the bookstore this morning?Ó
Well, once again we have shown the educational importance of the
Internet. We have discussed Porno Etiquette, the Porno Pecking Order, and
Guerilla Tactics for getting your hands on porn when the porno rack is
clogged with men. I guess I didnÕt get around to reviewing any magazines
today, but who knows? Maybe the feminists will surrender and weÕll be
too busy fucking them to read any more porn!
(ItÕs all up to you, ladies!)
AND IN THE END...
x: Hey broÕ, can I borrow a dollar?
y: Sorry, I donÕt speak Ebonics.
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-END OF 186 EMISSION
- Veruca Salt, please write to me. I want to fuck you.