Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 21
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Ten
ÒWell,Ó Candace said at last, licking her lips again. ÒLetÕs do the
enema thing then, shall we? IÕve never had one, and I imagine every girl
must, sooner or later, and Kevin said I must have mine sometime this
weekend in any event.Ó Kevin nodded, wordless, seemingly in awe of his
newlywed wifeÕs boldness. With mature grace she asked Danielle to get
the enema equipment from her bag, while inviting me to join her in a
submissive posture on the floor. She got us both two pillows each to rest
our knees and faces on. With great reluctance I let her persuade me into
kneeling beside her, my bottom saucily upturned, my face pressed into the
pillow. My breasts hung pendant. I stuck my bottom up as high as I could
to keep my swaying, tender-nippled teats from scraping the floor.
Kevin stroked himself freely, admiring us. Danielle filled an enema
bag with wine.
ÒIf you come IÕll make sure you get one of these up your butt too,Ó
Candace admonished her groom.
ÒDonÕt worry, I can control myself,Ó he replied. They were new at
this, strangers together, embarking on a quest for sensual delight, sexual
pleasure, as all newlywed couples must. Danielle and I were just guests,
playmates, coming along on their ride. I could feel the sexual tension
between them, Candace with her marvelous bosoms, bent over like some
dairy cow in a wooden barn, Kevin a farmer with bestiality on his mind.
Rosy never had a prettier bottom, I dare say, and looking at it every day,
milking her privates, well it just got to me officer...
Danielle found a pole, perhaps one left there for just such a purpose,
though it was made of wood, and hung her enema bag on it. Trailing down
from it was a single tube, which split into two tubes about halfway down,
each one leading to an nubbed end that Danielle now set about greasing.
ÒDonÕt just stand there, get some vaseline and prepare their
assholes,Ó Danielle said to Kevin. Candace turned her face to me.
ÒAre you ready?Ó she asked, obviously somewhat nervous herself.
She shivered like some little girl about to be given a big lollipop, or taken
into a new theatre for the first time, to experience some promised
spectacle.
ÒI guess I am,Ó I replied. ÒThough now would be an excellent time
for me to visit the outhouse.Ó I imagined locking myself inside, waiting
to come out until theyÕd exhausted themselves on each other and were
ready to go home.
ÒSilly dear, you must be brave,Ó Candace said. She was solicitous
all of a sudden, a nurse with a new patient. She kissed me lightly on my
lips. Then she opened her mouth, let her tongue protrude, and I offered her
mine also, impulsively, feeling the heat rise within me as my exposed
pussy greeted our friends, feeling moist suddenly, something IÕd not felt
since IÕd been teased by Candace in the jeep. I guessed her snatch was
dewy now too, and we kissed with a frank abandon, drilling our tongues
deep into each otherÕs mouths, waiting for the inevitable impalement of
our bottoms.
KevinÕs hands came to us, his pointing finger on each hand drilling
into us simultaneously. We jerked, bucked, kept kissing one another for
mutual comfort, reassurance. He cranked his fingershaft around,
lubricating us all around our rims and within to the first few inches.
Danielle watched, expectantly, holding her still-clamped enema tubes in
each hand. Then he withdrew, leaving us rearing back for more, wanting
him and not what was to follow.
As Kevin watched, his organ thick and menacing, leaping now and
then with sudden uncontrollable surges of anticipatory passion, Danielle
introduced the twin tubes into our fannies. I flinched, not wanting it, she
urged me to be still, forcing it in deeper. At almost the same time she
began threading Candace with a tube of her own. The woman bucked once,
stilled her hips. We left off kissing for a moment as we dealt, each in our
own minds, with the prospect of having something go up where things
were only ever supposed to come out. Candace was determined to show
herself to be a proper wife, able to accommodate anything her husbandÕs
passion required of her. I simply had no choice, I was a prisoner, though
sometimes my conscience whispered to me that I was really a prisoner of
my own device. I might have been in school, you know, studying latin or
geometry, instead of flirting with newlywed games.
ÒWhen you are both juiced up properly IÕm going to take both of you
at once!Ó Kevin crowed. I stole a glance over my shoulder at his thing. It
was stiff and the knob was purple. I daresay he was close to coming just
looking at us. But he had a stalwart member, I could see, and if he could
hold himself in long enough heÕd certainly give us both the reaming of a
lifetime. I shuddered. I wanted him and yet I didnÕt.
ÒOooch!Ó Reality, in the form of an inward snaking tube, intruded
upon me.
ÒHold still dear, IÕve got it almost halfway up,Ó Danielle admonished.
ÒOooh! Must we do this?!Ó Candace begged, seeming now to wish to
be let off the very thing sheÕd proposed. Playfully Danielle withdrew the
tubes slightly and then urged them in again, back a forth, fucking us with
them. ÒGaak! Just DO it, you crazy girl!Ó Candace half-laughed, shaking
her head at what sheÕd let herself in for. We were so perfect, the two of
us, and here we were letting things go up our butts. Mother (mine and
hers, that is, our real ones, would definitely not have approved). Is that
why we did it then, to flaunt our parents, society? To do what good girls
like us werenÕt supposed to?
ÒoooOOch!Ó I yelped.
ÒThere,Ó Danielle said. ÒNow IÕll just unclamp the tubes and let you
both start having your enemas. TheyÕre good for the constitution you
know, and the Bill of Rights too!Ó And with that silly remark she undid
both tubes and Candace and I both squealed and rocked forward on our
knees, as if to bolt away, as the smooth wine started flowing in. It went
right up our asses, filling our intestines with an ease and thoroughness
that frightened me. How would she know when to turn it off? Had she
ever done this before? Had she worked as a physicianÕs assistant
somewhere or was she as new to this as Candace and I were? I hardly
trusted Kevin to help us. He was lusty enough to fuck dead women, as far
as I was concerned, or ones with burst rectums. His only thought was
pleasuring his penis and (not too soon, he hoped) emptying his balls. HeÕd
have his fun, but what price would we pay?
I felt fuller and fuller, and I glanced over at Candace. She had a
worried look on her face, but she was biting her lower lip, trying to
remain calm. I felt like I had to go to the bathroom, and pretty badly too,
but of course my bottom was pointed in exactly the wrong way.
ÒYou must kiss, darlings, kiss and show me you enjoy it,Ó Danielle
said. With a sudden fever, perhaps to distract ourselves, Candace and I
turned our faces toward each other and pressed our lips together. Our
tongues snaked into each otherÕs mouths. Our bottoms wiggled.
ÒOh, shit!Ó I heard Kevin say, and the thought of him spurting
prematurely gave us both an impulse to our passion that was
extraordinary. I donÕt think IÕve ever kissed another woman quite as
sensuously, as urgently, as I kissed Candace then. We shivered with our
desire, still pent up in our pussies, while wishing Kevin had kept his in
play also, instead of spending it. Young husbands, IÕd read in a book once,
can get too excited, and the only cure is lots of fucking. But how can you
do that if he keeps coming too soon? Once again the burden is put on the
female. You must inspire and arouse him, but not too much. Oh, me!
I was very full now, too full. Candace broke her lips from mine and
yelled over her shoulder at Danielle.
ÒPlease! Stop!Ó she cried, but Danielle, apparently timing things
perfectly, was just now touching the clamps, and a moment later the flow
had stopped. Candace and I breathed sighs of relief into each otherÕs
faces. Her breath was sweet; mine also, I suppose. We still smelt of the
strawberries and cream weÕd indulged in at dessert.
ÒTherre, therre, you are both perfect little adventuresses,Ó Danielle
said. She lifted both our faces by putting a finger beneath each of our
chins, and wiped our mouths and cheeks and eyes with a soft hot cloth. We
shivered, feeling all pent up and wanting very much now to pay a visit to
the outhouse.
ÒOh, the chamber pot will never do,Ó Danielle said, walking over to it
and inspecting it. ÒYouÕd both overflow it. YouÕll just both have to run out
to the outhouse and empty yourselves there. IÕm sorry girls. If IÕd known I
wouldnÕt have filled you so full.Ó We looked up at her, hunched over like
we were, and there was a smirk on her lips. She knew damn well what
sheÕd done to us, and had planned this outcome all along. The tubes were
still up us, of course, protruding from us like monkey tails, and I felt like
one letting this stupid thing be done to me!
Danielle sauntered back around behind us again, relishing our
condition.
ÒGod, this must be what a pregnant woman feels like,Ó Candace
breathed, though not looking at me or anyone in particular.
ÒI hope not,Ó I replied. To me this was the most awfullest thing IÕd
ever felt. Surely carrying a baby wouldnÕt feel this...enormous!
Almost by surprise Danielle began removing our tubes. They sleeked
out slowly, taking what I donÕt know with them. I didnÕt turn around to
find out.
ÒGet me a Glad bag, dearie,Ó Danielle nodded to Kevin, indicating her
backpack with a flick of her eyes. What other obscene delights from the
dungeon did she have concealed in that pack, I wondered? I didnÕt want to
find out, but I suspected Kevin did. The men always just got to watch such
things, it seemed, while the girls had to undergo them.
Neatly and quickly Danielle dropped the tubes into a disposable
plastic bag while Kevin held it open for her. A moment later it was as if
theyÕd never been, as if Candace and I were just this way naturally,
inseminated or something, mothers with babies in our bellies, except our
tummies were as flat as ever, it was our buttocks that seemed in bloom.
ÒUp, girls! Up!Ó Danielle called, lifting her hands in gesture (as if we
needed to know what she meant!) With quivering forms, our cheeks
clenching tightly, Candace and I made to stand. It was awkward, difficult,
we reached out and grabbed each other for support. I was sure IÕd spill all
over the floor at any moment. How embarrassing that would be! To tell
mother IÕd been a naughty little girl, gone potty right on her floor!
Trembling, shaking, Candace and I turned to our tormentress, with a
flick of our eyes at Kevin. He was still hard! Had he kept his strength in
or... Our eyes scanned the floor for evidence of lost sperm. There was
none. He must have saved himself at the last moment.
ÒYes, he was a good boy after all, werenÕt you, dearest?Ó Danielle
said. Wickedly she stroked his cock with the tips of her long fingernails.
Candace and I trembled with our need to relieve our bottoms, yet as we
watched Danielle we wondered with fearful eyes if she would take him
while we were away.
ÒOh, I must go!Ó Candace cried with sudden dismay. I felt it too.
There was no waiting. Absolutely none. We both dashed for the door.
ÒMother! Mother! Let us out, we must go to the potty!Ó we were both
about to cry, but Candace found the door had been surreptitiously unlocked.
Perhaps she knew! How embarrassing! Or worse, she may have peeked in,
watched us degrade ourselves for the dubious goal of sexual pleasure.
Candace flung open the door and dashed out. I was right at her heels.
We ran down the hall and as we turned the corner to go outside I saw a
shadowed figure sitting in a chair, knitting, and heard a quiet cackle. We
were so young, so pretty, and here we were, titties swinging wildly,
making a naked dash for the outhouse, our bottoms full to bursting.
Sick with humiliation I ran out the side door with Candace. Like
children running from bees we bounded across the grass to the little shed
enclosed potty that sat waiting for us, waiting to receive us like it had no
doubt received so many newlywed girls before us. I felt like a newlywed
wife myself, surely, for wasnÕt I promised the marital cock just as much
as Candace? HadnÕt Kevin said, Òboth of you?Ó That had been his manly
boast. Two wives for the great Kevin, with his great cock, too big for just
one girl!
Candace got the potty first and sat down on it, leaving me to dance
around watching as she let her bowels open. With a sudden rush her
insides came out, shit and whatever else was up there, plus the wine. I
say Òwhatever elseÓ because for all I knew sheÕd been fucked up the butt
sometime in the past, and given KevinÕs magnificent manhood I had little
doubt he could plant a foetus up a girlÕs behind if he had a mind to. But in
any event it was all aborted now, happily, and Candace looked up at me
with a grin as she felt the last of it plop into the cesspool down below.
ÒHurry, get up! IÕve got to go too!Ó I cried, with urgent, bulging eyes.
Candace just sat there admiring me for a moment, all jiggly and desperate.
Admiring the power she had over me suddenly, to make me wait and suffer.
ÒWell, I must wipe, mustnÕt I?Ó Candace asked demurely.
ÒGet UP!Ó I cried, and yanked her by the arm. With a squeal, her tits
shaking, she let me pry her up from the potty and take her place.
And what a toilet it was! Just as hole cut in a knee-high wooden
shelf, nothing more. How we had reduced ourselves! Here I was, the envy
of rich men everywhere (and Candace too), about to shit into a hole made
for minus-10 girls in Appalachia. I could picture Fat Mollie squatting
here, or Fat Matilda. But me? The urbane city girl? The girl bored with
Rio?
ÒAck!Ó Too late! I must sit, I must shit!
WHOOSH! It came out then, all runny and quick, making a giant splash
somewhere below which (thankfully) didnÕt rise high enough to splatter
my bottom. With a great sigh of relief I felt myself empty out, while
Candace, grinning, watched me, hands on her hips.
When I was done I got up and we both wiped each other, to make sure
we looked our very best back there for Kevin. Then we stepped out of the
outhouse, into a patch of bright late-afternoon sunshine that shafted
down. I felt renewed, refreshed. Candace and I clasped hands. Together
we walked back to the cabin, happy and content. We were one with nature,
and it with us, and we were ready for whatever it had in store for us.
DIARY OF A PERVERT
By Deep Thought
Reviews of Playmate Video Centerfold Julie Clarke and Playboy's Girls of
Spring Break - Part Two
At the beginning of the Julie Clarke video, and eating up way too
much of the running time of the tape, is an ad for the video Playboy's Girls
of Spring Break. In this ad a girl romps across the screen wearing nothing
but panties and chaps. Not having ejaculated over Julie Clarke, I was, upon
seeing this, off to Tower Video again.
But first I called Tower. "Do you have Playboy's Girls of Spring
Break in stock?" I asked. An anonymous clerk said they did. Upon arriving
at Tower, I couldn't find the video. A clerk who was short, fat, white, and
gay (the latter being his only worthwhile attribute) looked on his
computer terminal and didn't see Playboy's Girls of Spring Break. Then,
flipping to another screen on his terminal, he did find the old R-rated flick
Spring Break, and a discussion ensued between us where the clerk claimed
whoever had answered the telephone MUST have been speaking of the R-
rated Spring Break when I asked about Playboy's Girls of Spring Break.
Fortunately, at some point the fucking clerk switched back to the
original screen, which listed the Playboy tapes, and I found the listing for
Playboy's Girls of Spring Break. (Thank God the screen happened to be
facing toward me, instead of away from me!) The clerk, no longer able to
find refuge in his inability to read a computer screen, led me on a half-
hearted search of the shelves for Playboy's Girls of Spring Break. Our
quest concluded empty handed. I complained to the clerk that whoever
answered the telephone shouldn't have just looked on the computer screen
(although that was apparently a major accomplishment), he should have
actually checked the shelves to see if the video was really there. The
clerk launched into a lecture, wherein he informed me that HE always
checked the shelves, and it was simply unfortunate that I had talked to
some other clerk on the telephone who was not as assiduous as he.
I had the clerk call another Tower store, and was informed that the
other store did not have Playboy's Girls of Spring Break in stock. The
previous day I had been to yet a third Tower store, and it did not have
Playboy's Girls of Spring Break in stock either. (Or any other Playboy
videos, except half a dozen of some negro Playmate of the Year that
they've been trying to get rid of for half a century.)
Not easily defeated, I proceeded to make a thorough search of the
premises of Tower video. Soon enough, I found Playboy's Girls of Spring
Break, right in the Playboy section! (It was behind two other videos.) I
showed it to the clerk who had been unable to find the video on the
computer screen, or on the shelf, but he seemed to take no interest.
Not being one to shoplift, I of course got in line to purchase
Playboy's Girls of Spring Break. I was delighted to see that, after a negro
lady and her white husband had been attended to, I would be served next.
Unfortunately, the clerk (a negro) was apparently using his job at Tower
to familiarize himself with the writing of the English language. Whatever
the young man was up to, it took him 10 long minutes to attend to the
needs of the couple in front of me. A gigantic line formed behind me. The
clerk who had been unable to find my video began making himself useful by
leaving his post and talking to some short Polynesian guy with a beard. I
was remarking to myself on the generally shitty appearance of the
Polynesian dude when a little voice in the back of my head said, "Don't be
too critical. He's probably the manager." And, sure enough, he was. Or at
least he did work at Tower, and was the replacement for the white clerk,
who made himself useful to society by going on break.
As you may surmise, I did finally get to pay for the fucking video and
get the hell out of Tower. It is worth pausing to comment, however, on
the general nature of the Tower chain, as viewed by me from its
headquarters, Sacramento. I should point out that I have no reason to
trash Tower. They do not distribute my zines, and I have never solicited
them to. However, I have been a regular customer of Tower books and
video for six years now, right here in Sacramento, and it has not been a
pleasant relationship. (They even called the cops on me once. But I won
that round.)
Tower's good points are that it is open long hours, 365 days a year,
and has a very diverse selection of merchandise. Its bad points can be
summed up in two short words: the clerks. Ninety-nine percent of the
male clerks are diffident homosexuals who apparently think the morning
will bring their ascension to Emperor of the Earth. One must be extremely
polite to these clerks, and even then they are a total pain in the ass. They
do not give a fuck about the customer. I'll repeat that: TOWER'S CLERKS
DO NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE CUSTOMER. The clerks who aren't faggots
are either lesbians or hippies or transvestites. I have nothing against
faggots, lesbians, hippies, transvestites, or even negroes just learning
how to write the English language after 18 years of schooling. But I do
have something against clerks who don't give a damn. If a guy is just
stupid, or just slow (as in the case of the aforementioned negro), I am
perfectly willing to put up with his inadequacies. You can't blame
someone for not having talents God didn't give him. But when a person is
obviously capable (such as the white clerk), and simply doesn't put forth
the effort, that is when I launch into editorials such as this.
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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