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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 282
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter One
We chatted. About sex. I confessed to her that IÕd had very little of
it.
ÒBut youÕre willing to try,Ó Tabitha suggested. That was her name.
She looked about 30 and was sleek as a model, with long tapering legs and
delicate hands and glorious, glossy long hair, but with bosoms much bigger
than any runway model. I must admit I felt a little intimidated in her
presence. I was just a schoolgirl, with my t-shirt that said ÒLOSERÓ on it
and my jeans that were torn in the knees. Even my hair, which IÕd tried
extra hard to make perfect, had been caught outside the restaurant by a
big gust of wind that had left it hopelessly tousled. Tabitha, whoÕd been
inside waiting for me, had not met with any unfortunate breezes.
But Tabitha assured me I looked Ôabsolutely lovely,Õ as she put it. I
knew I must look pretty good, because Alex didnÕt hang with uncool chicks.
Just to get him, IÕd had to pry away a redhead who looked like a Penthouse
Pet.
When sheÕd quizzed me completely on my sex experiences and (much
more to the point in my case) my unfulfilled sexual fantasies, she took out
a little form. She told me I should write my name on it and sign it. I
looked at it carefully. Mom always told me to never sign anything. It said,
ÒI hereby state that I am old enough to make decisions for myself, and
that I wish to be an applicant member of the Brentwood Sex Club.Ó Maybe
it was my own momÕs admonition about not signing anything that got me
to sign. We werenÕt getting along at the time. I was feeling rebellious
and she had just joined the Mormon Church. Not the best match for
parent-teen relations. So I signed. When I was done I wanted to rip up the
application but TabithaÕs hand stole it away from me before IÕd even
realized what IÕd done. The interview ended at that point. She bid me
goodbye, asked if I wanted a ride home (I declined) and then left the
restaurant by way of her Mercedes. I rode my bike home.
You might be thinking I was too young to join a sex club. But, looking
at me from a distance, you wouldnÕt have known it. I stared at myself in
the mirror that night and gawked at how different I looked from just a
year earlier. My hips were still a little on the slim side but IÕd gained
height and my bosoms looked like some mischievous boy had blown them
up in my sleep with a tire pump. I was a sight to behold. I knew if IÕd had
fake I.D. I could have signed with Playboy tomorrow. Not Penthouse, maybe
(my boyfriend says they have older girls) but definitely Playboy. Or that
awful Hudson Hawk magazine I once found in my boyfriendÕs apartment
(left, he said, by a pervert friend of his) that features girls actually DOING
IT to each other! IÕd never pose for a magazine like that.
My boyfriend said my first party at the sex club would be on the
beach, along a small private portion of the beach. He told me to just wear
my best swimsuit and (to make sure I looked really great) he fronted me
the money to go buy whatever I wanted at the bikini shop. ÔThe sexier the
better,Õ he told me. ÔAnd donÕt mind the cost.Õ He gave me more than
plenty to buy whatever they had.
I bought a little silk number that was skimpy as sin. When I showed
up at his apartment in it he got another one of his ÔrisesÕ in his pants
instantly. It was tied off with bows. The bra cups were slim triangles
and the bottom portion was cut so low you could see the first few wisps
of my pussy hair curling seductively out of the top of it. In back, it
couldnÕt make up its mind whether it wanted to be a thong or not. The
compromise kept wedging in my ass crack, which kept my hands busier
than I liked.
ÒYou came over in THAT?Ó my boyfriend asked. He sounded like my
dad that I see once a year.
ÒUm, yeah, you said to buy a sexy one,Ó I told him.
ÒWell, donÕt answer my door if somebody knocks. IÕm liable to have
half the beach up here in a minute,Ó he told me. He lived in a walkup
apartment, on the second floor. IÕd parked my bike outside, chained it, and
trotted on up the stairs without really thinking about how I looked. I
mean, I always wore bikinis, and I was getting to like the more daring
ones. This one was just a tad more daring than any of the others, thatÕs
all. I figured he was feeling nervous about what we were going to do
together. I know I was.
In the car driving over (he had a nice big pickup) he said, ÒDonÕt get
attached to that swimsuit. YouÕre liable to lose it.Ó I felt a whole swarm
of butterflies rise up in my tummy when he said that. But he assured me
that heÕd buy me another just like it if I Ôbehaved,Õ as he put it.
ÒDonÕt worry, I wonÕt be a brat,Ó I told him.
ÒGood,Ó he replied.
I donÕt know what I was expecting. Probably to pull up to some
gigantic penis-shaped house with lechers leering out at me from every
window. Instead, Alex pulled up to a very modest house along the beach.
Tabitha met us at the door. She gave me an admiring look. Then, without
so much as an indiscreet word, she led us out back to her private yard.
The party was just getting started. A big spread of food was laid
out. Fresh scalloped fish, salmon steaks, a smoked cheese ball, some pub
dip, and all kinds of veggies for people like me who liked to graze and play
vegetarian.
The yard was sheltered by a phalanx of palm trees that surrounded
all three sides of it. The beach lay just beyond, through a small wooden
gate. A hedge served to keep prying eyes away. Here and there along the
small swaths of neatly clipped grass various flowers grew, adding their
scent to the delicious aroma of the food.
The girls at the party ranged in age from a little older than me to
women in their early 30Õs. Most of them had bikinis on, although a few of
the older women opted for t-shirts too, as if to separate themselves a
little from us younger girls. Tabitha had on a t-shirt but her bosoms
jiggled so freely I quickly guessed there was no bra at all underneath.
The men were all older than me. Some were as young as Alex, while
others couldnÕt be any less than 40. They all looked quite handsome,
though, with the younger ones being especially cute while the older ones
exuded a sense of reserve and power that I found a real turn-on.
I helped myself to the food and found everyone to be very cool and
delightful. Soon I had almost forgotten that I was at a sex club party. I
chatted with different girls. Everyone welcomed me without the slightest
presumption or indifference. I actually felt more welcome there than at
my momÕs church socials, where they were always preaching Ôlove and
friendship.Õ
Then, suddenly, as I was walking casually across the grass, with a
drink in my hand, eating a slice of the cheeseball, somebody untied my top.
I almost dropped my drink as I tried to keep my bra cups from slipping into
the space between my breasts. I found myself standing there, in front of
everyone, with my bosoms showing as if I were some Polynesian girl.
Tabitha slipped up beside me. She slid her hand up over my shoulders and
behind my hair and undid the part of my bra that was tied behind my neck.
In a moment my bra had dropped to the grass. I was truly topless, with
nothing to hide my tits from all the friendly eyes.
ÒYou have such lovely breasts,Ó Tabitha said to me. Her voice was
soft but had a strange yearning in it. ÒPlease let them be seen.Ó My
boyfriend came over to me and picked my bra up off the grass and stuffed
it in the pocket of his shorts.
ÒAlex!Ó I hissed. He grinned.
ÒEnjoy the party,Ó he said. Then everything went back to normal.
Except, of course, I was topless. Nobody else was. I pleaded with Alex to
give me my top back but he told me not to embarrass him. So I was left to
mingle just as I had before, but with my breasts bouncing in front of me
quite freely and nakedly. Traitorously, my nipples stood up immediately
and refused to go back down. They caught more than a few eyes as I tried
to regain my composure and let people talk to me. The girls spoke to me
just as before. They tried very hard to be friendly and put me at ease. The
men, obviously, were more interested in my breasts than my face when I
talked to them. But everyone was very nice about it and, again, I soon
found myself enjoying their company and trying not to think about how my
breasts stood out.
I was talking to a girl named Beth when Tabitha came up to her with
a can of whipped cream. I thought she was talking about BethÕs plateful of
strawberries when she asked her, ÒMay I?Ó Beth nodded. She held her
plate off to one side and looked down at herself, arching out her hips, as
Tabitha neatly opened her bikini panties in front. With a quick shake of
the can, Tabitha filled the front of BethÕs panties with the cream.
ÒOoooh,Ó Beth shivered. I had no doubt the cream was cold. The can
had speckles of moisture on the outside of it, like a Pepsi fresh from the
fridge.
ÒYouÕre next,Ó Tabitha said to me. She didnÕt ask my permission. But
she did slip a hand behind the small of my back and gently ease my hips
into an outthrust position. Then she moved her hand to the front of my
panties, pulled them open, and filled me up with cream.
ÒThere,Ó Tabitha said to me when she finished. Gosh, that cream
was cold! I nearly screeched and dropped a plateful of celery and pub dip,
but at the last minute I managed to control myself.
I looked at Beth as Tabitha moved away from us. ÒItÕs cold,Ó I
confessed to her.
ÒDonÕt I know,Ó Beth replied. She smiled at me and I couldnÕt help
smiling back. A girl came up behind her and undid her top. Beth shrugged
it off and I found myself with a boob-mate. She was now as Ôbad offÕ as I
was.
And the rest soon followed. Tops were discarded and t-shirts and
tops came off just as readily. Amazingly, when I looked around, I didnÕt
see a sagging pair of tits anywhere. They were all firm and high and
wonderfully beautiful. I felt like I was at a convention for breast cancer
prevention or something. ÔDonÕt wear a bra, dear, and let them stick out
freely,Õ I thought I might hear some bra-burning feminist say to me.
Meanwhile, as if whipped cream in my panties and no bra werenÕt
stimulating enough, I saw that the men were stripping off their clothes to
just their Speedos. Some guys hadnÕt worn Speedos, but inexplicably had
on underpants instead. They were the fashion kind, too small to wear for
comfort. I didnÕt mind. The sight was heavenly. Beth and I forgot to eat
our food and just stood and stared at them as they stripped down to their
last piece of clothing. Tabitha, ever handy with her whipped cream,
insisted on squirting the men full of cream just as she did us ladies. The
men had much less room to spare.
And so the party proceeded. Once everyone had been Ôcooled offÕ by a
little cream in their shorts, the affair proceeded just as nonchalantly as
if we were still clothed in our bras. I could hear people playing volleyball
on the beach. I was thankful they couldnÕt see into our yard. Imagine
seeing a yardful of people where the girls were all topless and everyone
had cream in their pants!
WHY AMERICA IS CONSERVATIVE
by holy joe
Much has been made recently of the fact that America is
conservative. Naturally, all the reasons given have been self-interested,
and wrong. Fortunately there is the Internet, and me, to set things right.
(Not that anyone will actually read my opinion...) (The sex story, if youÕre
wondering, can be obtained by moving your scroll bar in the ÔupÕ direction.)
Why is America conservative? Is it because liberalism is wrong,
and conservatism is right? Far from it! The reason is entirely
demographic. LetÕs look at the relevant American demographic groups:
1. Old people - Old people are, generally speaking, always
conservative. Hence the old, when they vote, or respond to a poll, respond
with conservative views.
2. The Yuppies - formerly liberals, the yuppies, like all people, grew
conservative as they began to have children and acquire property. Hence,
in middle age, the yuppies are conservative.
3. The 20-somethings - They are conservative. Why? The previous
generation, after all, (the hippies, now yuppies) were liberals in their
youth. But thereÕs your answer. Every group of young people chooses to be
different from the group of young people that preceded it. Hence, since
the hippies were liberals, the 20-somethings decided (without Ôdeciding,Õ
really), to be conservative.
In the not too distant future a group of young people will come along
that is liberal. This will no doubt be blamed on the Internet, but it will be
entirely due to demographics. Since the 20-somethings are conservative,
the next generation will be liberal. (And the one after them,
conservative.)
Note: I use ÔliberalÕ to connote 1960Õs liberalism, not Clinton-style
ÔliberalismÕ of the 1990Õs. (Which is conservative, though not, obviously,
as conservative as Republican conservatism.)
Our Conservative Planet
Why is capitalism (wrongly defined by some as ÔconservatismÕ),
spreading around the globe? ItÕs because America, finally getting it right,
has tacked to the right. And the world, following AmericaÕs moral
example, has decided to tack to the right too. Right? Wrong. HereÕs the
reason:
The world was divided into the capitalist model and the socialist
model (communism, or quasi-communism). The capitalist model is based
on how people actually behave. The communist model is based on a notion
of how people OUGHT to behave. Big difference. You ought to drive 55, but
do you?
Now, you may quibble with me. You may say, especially if youÕre a
college professor, ÒHoly joe, thatÕs crap, that capitalism stuff.
Capitalism is ALSO based on a notion of how people OUGHT to behave.Ó
Maybe so, but it is nonetheless a model that is CLOSER to how people
actually behave, if left to themselves, than communism is. For instance,
Newtonian physics is a decent way to explain the universe. But EinsteinÕs
Relativity is better at explaining the universe. So, if we posit that both
communism and capitalism are models based on how people OUGHT to
behave, nonetheless, capitalism is closer to how people actually behave
than communism is.
The capitalist model is closer to human nature than communism.
Hence, in the competitive, bipolar world once inhabited by both capitalism
and communism, capitalism won and communism lost. (You may, arguing
ÔcontainmentÕ, argue that communism never had a chance. But, given its
gulags and poor production, IÕd say it had chance enough.) (And you may
argue that Soviet-style communism wasnÕt true communism, which I
would agree with, but, absent an unquenchable, permanent, overabundance
of goods in the world, it was communist enough, Soviet-style or not.)
(Incidentally, I think communism is in our future, but only when
there is, indeed, an unquenchable, permanent, overabundance of goods in
the world.)
Hence, since communism failed (quite visibly, I might add), and
capitalism triumphed, capitalism is being adopted by the entire world.
This is not, however, because the world has decided to become
conservative. It is, rather, because people prefer higher wages, more
groceries, and subscriptions to Penthouse.
A final note: What about Òstagnant wagesÓ in the West? Simple
dimple. The world is going global. If you make shoes in North America,
for $5.00 an hour, and I make shoes in Mexico, for 50 cents a day, who do
you think a shoe manufacturer is going to employ? Me -- in Mexico. But do
you think IÕll ALWAYS make 50 cents a day? Do you think my children are
going to be happy with 50 cents a day? Of course not! In 100 years,
everyone around the world will make the same wage. Computer
programmers in India will command the same salary as computer
programmers in America. And environmental regulations will be roughly
the same around the world. So, in 100 years, there will be no incentive
for a company to transfer work abroad. Hence, the phenomenon we are
currently seeing of Òstagnant wagesÓ will disappear. ÒStagnant wagesÓ
are not a curse of capitalism. They are, rather, simply a Ôgrowing painÕ of
globalization. (Sort of like a kid having teeth. They hurt coming in, but
once they come in, they donÕt hurt anymore.)
Well, there you have it. America is conservative because of
demographics, not because of the inherent superiority of conservatism
over liberalism. And the world is capitalist not because itÕs choosing
conservatism, but because itÕs choosing capitalism, and capitalism is
inherently superior to communism.
AND IN THE END...
SAINT DWORKIN
ÒAll of my colleagues who fight against pornography with me
know that I prostituted. I know about the lives of women in
pornography because I lived pornography. So have many feminists who
fight pornography.Ó
- Andrea Dworkin, feminist, writer, anti-pornographer and
(incidentally) ex-prostitute.
(- Next: Al Capone and the mafia campaign against playing cards! - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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- JOIN the worldÕs greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
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NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 282 EMISSION
- Dworkin: C-SPAN 2, About Books, August 3, 1997 (Reading from her
new book, Life and Death).