Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 31
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Thirteen
Reluctantly Amber pulled up her shirt. Her youthful breasts popped
out as she yanked it past them. The shirt was tight, specially made.
TheyÕd sewn it on her an hour before. Wiggling her hips and bottom, her
legs ridiculously akimbo, Amber finally got the shirt off. ÒDonÕt help her,
girls,Ó Tiffany advised us. ÒShe must be able to do it herself if we should
crash land in the ocean. Clothes might make us drown in the water, you
know. IÕll explain all the procedures in case of crash landings in a
minute.Ó
The last man was measured, by a nude Amber, wearing only her hat.
Her lovely breasts jiggled above his stiff-jutting organ. Twice her perky
nipples grazed across his pee hole. The man trembled, in ecstasy. The
cream bathed his testicles, warming them, perhaps killing some sperm
with its warmth. But he had plenty more.
ÒA hundred pounds!Ó Amber announced, hoping to get the whole crew
undressed. She didnÕt like being the only one completely naked.
ÒAmber, are you telling the truth?Ó Tiffany asked over the rim of her
glasses. ÒBecause if you arenÕt, IÕll have to swat you with my official
stewardess paddle.Ó She pointed to a hard wooden ping pong type paddle,
but with a long handle, hanging from a nail on the wall.
ÒUm, only 48 pounds, actually,Ó Amber said, screwing up her nose
and recalculating the imaginary figures in her head. ÒI guess I over
guesstimated.Ó
ÒIÕll say you did,Ó Tiffany replied. ÒSylvia, why donÕt you be the one
to take off your shirt this time? YouÕre the littlest of us, and nobody will
mind if youÕre naked. People only complain when they see big girls
walking around naked in Mexico.Ó
Sylvia took the jibe well and uncomplainingly put down her hat and
peeled up her shirt. It took her even longer than Amber to get out of it.
She danced around the floor, wriggling her torso, her bottom all a-jiggle.
She stood on her toes in an effort, apparently, to inspire her shirt to move
up.
ÒDonÕt rip it, Sylvia,Ó Tiffany warned. The shirt was stretchy and
light and could possibly be torn if it was excessively mishandled. Of
course, to do so would spoil the game of getting it off. ÒGirls who rip
their uniforms will be punished immediately,Ó Tiffany said, as if
reminding us, reading imaginary words on her clipboard. But I knew that
the threat of punishment wasnÕt imaginary, for besides the paddle a whole
range of flagellating equipment waited on the far wall.
At last Sylvia got her shirt off. Her breasts bounced freely on her
little chest, her ribs heaving with her effort. Her hair was hopelessly
mussed. Only the first of many such little disasters, I imagined.
Disgustedly Sylvia tossed her shirt out the ÒwindowÓ of the plane (an
imaginary space newly invented by her). She brushed her long hair with
her hand, trying to mend her coiffure. It had been neatly curled in long
strands and arranged just so. SheÕd been walking very daintily up Ôtil now
to keep it that way.
ÒNever mind your hair, Sylvia,Ó Tiffany said. ÒItÕs time for us to
take off. Men, pull your pants back on and sit down and let the girls buckle
you in.Ó
The men looked incredulous. Their pants were soaked with cream
and their cocks were hard as iron re-bars. They protested but the grandee
ordered them in Spanish to do as Tiffany asked. With great effort and to
the merriment of the mexican women watching (not to mention the flight
crew!) they stuffed themselves back in and sat down. They were obviously
uncomfortable as we bent low and strapped their seatbelts across their
waists. Meanwhile, Tiffany read off the remainder of her flight
instructions:
ÒMen, if we should have to attempt a crash landing it will be
necessary for as much weight as possible to be thrown from the plane.
This means that you will have to ejaculate as quickly as possible. Should
you not be able to do this one of our stewardesses will have to undergo an
enema, so I hope you will be able to help us out on this.Ó We looked up at
Tiffany, shocked at the thought of having our guts filled and spilled in
front of the mexican women. But this the grandee had actually written for
her, and she could not alter it.
ÒI shall have to be the pilot,Ó Tiffany said next. We knelt by our
three male passengers for takeoff, massaging the protrusions in their
pants. She turned around and faced the chair that was designated as the
pilotÕs chair. It was turned backwards, so that when she sat down on it
her arms were folded over the chairback. Her naked butt loomed proudly at
us. With accomplished grace she took hold of a dildo just beyond the chair.
It had been standing on what we girls actually used as our make believe
flight kitchen. It was a master touch, using the dildo as the planeÕs flight
stick. None of us had thought of it, nor the grandee. Simultaneously the
dildo became TiffanyÕs radio communicator.
ÒHead Stew to tower, head stew to tower,Ó she announced. ÒIÕm
ready for takeoff!Ó
ÒTakeoff approved, Head Stew. And take off your shirt while youÕre
at it.Ó
ÒSorry boys. Maybe some other time,Ó Tiffany replied to her make-
believe companions.
Then Tiffany pulled back on the dildo, pretending to take off. But
after a little while she announced that the plane was racing down the
runway and wouldnÕt be able to make it.
ÒThe tower says my ass is too fat!Ó Tiffany exclaimed, looking back
over her shoulder at us. ÒWill one of you men please stick your thing in my
butt and help get it up?Ó We were shocked at her courage. We knew she
had the tightest asshole in the universe and her butt, though mature and
well-rounded, was anything but fat. It was just a game she was playing,
getting more and more involved with every second. I gulped as I watched
the middle nephew leap up and drop his trousers. If Tiffany was willing to
sacrifice her butthole for our fun, what wouldnÕt she sacrifice?
Sylvia, perhaps remembering her past conquest, leapt to her feet and
helpfully fetched a phial of oil. The manÕs stiff rod burst from his zipper.
Together they lubed him up. Amber bent low just before he was ready to
enter Tiffany and enclosed his organ with her pendant breasts. She could
play make-up games too.
ÒNow you go back and forth, like this,Ó Amber said, looking up
sweetly at the man. She wriggled back and forth, sluicing his oiled dick
between her close-held breasts. Then she let go of her boobs and kissed
him lightly on the head of his penis. ÒGood luck!Ó she smiled. The man had
lost a lot of his oil between AmberÕs bosoms, so Sylvia hastily re-did the
lube job. Or penis job, as the case might be. We were just inventing it as
we went along, and I found myself enjoying the whole thing more and more
with every tantalizing minute.
ÒOh! I think IÕve got it!Ó Tiffany said, not sure she wanted another
impalement at the hands of Sylvia, or perhaps meaning only to have teased
the man all along.
ÒNothing doing!Ó Sylvia replied. ÒYou made me take my shirt off and
now its your turn!Ó
ÒSylvia, there is a big difference between a shirt and an anus,Ó
Tiffany said. But weÕd all gathered round her now. We stroked her and
told her how pretty she looked and made her put her hands behind herself
and pry apart her buttcheeks. Cheryl squirted a little preparatory oil into
TiffanyÕs anus with an atomizer. Tiffany started, bit her lower lip.
Bravely she held her lovely hams apart with her slim-gripping fingers.
ÒOoooh, NO!Ó Tiffany choked as the big knob burrowed into her butt.
ÒYES, TIFFANY!Ó We all cried delightedly. Tears welled in her eyes
as she realized how difficult it would be for her to take him. He was
large, and she was smaller than sheÕd remembered.
With grimacing, anguished little puffs Tiffany took the big member
up her colon. The going was so slow that we decided to get the ruler and
measure off the inches as they went up. Suddenly, when he was about
halfway up the young nephew discharged. He tried frantically to yank his
cock out in an attempt to prevent it, but he was stuck! Only after his
member had deflated somewhat was he able to get it out. Tiffany, our
pilot, was left weeping, her face down on her arms, now folded back over
her chair back. But she was not unhappy. SheÕd conquered another sexual
hurdle in her life, and a fearful one at that. Well, halfway, that is.
Tiffany stood up finally and announced that the plane was up in the
air. She was back in control, looking as pretty as ever and still wearing
everything but her lost panties. But her butthole had a telltale smear of
semen on it, and the excess had trickled down to her love pouch.
ÒWell I guess IÕll just have to be a sticky stewardess thanks to your
half-assed job, sir,Ó looking down at him. But weÕd been massaging him
and he was up again, ready for more. ÒNo, no, sir! There will be many
emergencies later that weÕll need your strength for,Ó Tiffany said. He sat
back. He was hard and did not want to lose himself again. It was too
enjoyable watching us all with his penis nice and stiff. Another
ejaculation might spoil his fun for awhile, leave him out of the
festivities. As for the other men, they looked like theyÕd gladly fuck
anything that moved, immediately.
ÒMen, the pilot has turned off the Ôconceal cocksÕ sign,Ó she said
helpfully. ÒYou may now display your organs freely if you wish.Ó Grunting
with relief they unzipped themselves and yanked out their penises. They
held them aloft at her, though they remained obediently seated.
ÒVery good, boys,Ó Tiffany said. ÒThe pilot sends his compliments.Ó
She bent over and gave a teasing lick round each manÕs purplish plum.
When she lifted her mouth her lips gleamed with their pre-cum.
We all waited with tingling anticipation as Tiffany retrieved her
clipboard. I wanted to rub myself. I saw Sylvia give herself a furtive
little wipe between her legs. She looked at her fingertips. They were wet
with her dew.
ÒTonightÕs dinner is baked bosoms,Ó Tiffany announced to our
passengers. ÒHowever, since our oven is broken you will either have to eat
them raw or go hungry,Ó she added. ÒWhich do you prefer?Ó
ÒYours!Ó they exclaimed. Tiffany tapped her foot impatiently.
ÒThatÕs not what I meant, boys, and you know it. I see however that
you do wish to partake of the evening meal. Amber? Sylvia? We must eat
quickly. Come over here and present your bosoms at once.Ó
With little gulps Amber and Sylvia obeyed, both of them the
youngest, with freshly grown bosoms waiting to be plucked by our fares.
Sylvia seemed especially nervous. Her breasts had been growing recently,
perhaps because of all the sexual excitement sheÕd been undergoing. She
said her nipples felt sore and she wasnÕt sure she wanted to.
ÒSylvia!Ó Tiffany warned. After getting her butt bopped a second
time by the girl she wasnÕt about to show her any mercy.
The girls climbed into the willing laps of the men, facing them,
offering them the fruit of their bodies. Greedily the men took their titties
in their mouths and nursed frantically upon the nipples. It was the first
and the third nephews who were favored in this way, the one in the middle
looking slightly bereft. ÒYou, sir, I have a special treat for,Ó Tiffany said.
She walked over to Cheryl and wrapped her arm round the girlÕs waist. She
brought her to the man and had her stand right in front of him. ÒCheryl,Ó
Tiffany said. ÒSince youÕre my best friend I want you to give this man our
pussy of the month, or is it of the mouth?Ó she said. TheyÕd been playing
checkers all morning together so I guess that was as good a qualification
as any for Òbest friend,Ó although I felt a little crestfallen when I heard
her say it. Cheryl glowed, happy at last to have a little attention on her
yearning, excited pussy. These airplane games were very stimulating. She
placed her hands firmly on the manÕs broad shoulders. As he watched,
delighted out of his mind, she thrust her still-clad torso toward him,
aiming to hit him smack in the kisser with her bare pussy. And she did!
Soon she was moaning as the man hungrily ate her out. That left only me
and Tiff.
She came over to me, tall and proud and ever so sophisticated.
Although I was almost as tall as her I felt meek in her presence. ÒYou,
however, are my breast friend,Ó Tiffany smiled at me. ÒTake off your
shirt. No wait! She went and got a ruler off the nightstand that was our
flight kitchen. ÒTake your shirt off now,Ó she said. ÒAnd youÕd better
hurry Ôcause IÕm going to keep on smacking your ass until you do!Ó I knew
she had to. The mexican ladies were growing restless. They did not like
seeing us having this much fun. Or perhaps it was in the minimal script
the grandee had written on her clipboard. In any event I saw in TiffanyÕs
eyes that she was begging me not to refuse.
I nodded. I turned my back to her and she positioned me so that my
pretty fundament was facing the audience. She took off my hat. I toyed
with the hem a moment, not wanting to lift my shirt. Finally, with a quick
confirming look at Tiffany, I began the arduous process.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I yelped and danced as I Tiffany laid in the
first strokes. The other girls, surprised, looked up at us. I thought I heard
Sylvia breathe a sigh of relief that sheÕd not objected to offering her
breasts. She saw that the alternative was obviously worse. With renewed
enthusiasm the girls gave themselves over to the men, not wanting to be
next for the ruler. Cheryl especially, for she still wore a shirt.
I yanked and pulled at my shirt, finally releasing my breasts. They
spilled out and immediately joined in my antics, juddering freely all over
the place. Soon my shirt was up around my face, and I couldnÕt get it off
my head. For seemingly the longest time I scampered about, Tiffany
chasing me with the ruler. ÒStop!Ó she cried, laughing. ÒYou canÕt see and
youÕll bump into something!Ó Like a little animal I jiggled about, my ass
reddening more every few seconds as TiffanyÕs ruler connected. At last,
to my vast relief and with an enormous sigh, I managed to tug the shirt
above my chin, then off the top of my head. But my arms, upraised, were
still trapped in it. Like some wiggly mutant from Dark Castle I leapt
about the room. Tiffany found my heinie wherever I went and gave it a
new crack. In the end I finally got my shirt off, tossing it right at the
mexican ladies. They clucked their disapproval. My hands immediately
flew to my ass and as we resumed our Òflight dutiesÓ I stood briskly
rubbing it.
Only Tiffany and Cheryl retained their shirts. The rest of us wore
only our hats and heels, no doubt the cutest flight attendants these
nephews had ever laid eyes on. Perhaps the ONLY flight attendants theyÕd
ever laid eyes on, living as they did in their rural village. Our cunnies
were moist, CherylÕs more than most. Tiffany had a violated bumhole,
stepping awkwardly sometimes because of the lingering discomfort there.
But our elegance remained, despite our disheveled locks and not-quite-
perfect makeup. We were still stewardesses on Pretend Airlines, and our
men were still eager passengers.
The grandee had given Tiffany one rule above all the rest, and we all
knew what it was, even the nephews. There could be no cunt fucking. I
imagine with all of us eager for one another there might have been an orgy
then. But the grandee and his guards stood by watching, and we knew
anything we did to each other wouldnÕt be half as bad as suffering under
them. Tiffany stood considering, wondering what to do next. Impatient
with herself, she absently brushed the sides of her thighs with her hands.
She still looked very distinguished in her boots and stockings, the rest of
us bare or bare-legged.
Suddenly she turned and looked at her imaginary altimeter. ÒOh,
my!Ó She cried. ÒGentlemen, we are losing altitude. Please take
absolutely everything off!Ó She turned to Cheryl. ÒYou too, hun. Get out of
that shirt.Ó Cheryl didnÕt mind, for it looked like Tiffany had forgotten
about spanking people while they were trying to get out of their shirts.
Best to get undressed before she remembered. Meanwhile, the men
remained seated, handing their clothes up to Tiffany as they pulled them
off. Clutching their clothing she went to the side of the plane and tossed
them into an imaginary sea.
Returning to the men, Tiffany sat down on the lap of the nearest one.
She wriggled until he was nicely placed in her bottomcrack. The man
groaned, his organ trapped once more, but he did not mind this sort of
confinement. Tiffany beckoned me and together we got off her boots.
Then I rolled down her stockings. I pulled them off her feet and tossed
them out to sea. There were high heels waiting especially for this
moment, held up by the grandee, and I ran into the audience and got them.
The mexican ladies pinched at my bottom as I ran through them. They
were allowed more liberties tonight, apparently. I shivered.
Returning to Tiffany, I quickly fitted her into her shoes. ÒThe
natives are restless,Ó I whispered.
ÒI know. Think of something!Ó Tiffany hissed.
ÒWell, I donÕt really want to take one of them up my bottom, despite
what we did to you,Ó I said.
ÒThanks a lot!Ó Tiffany replied.
I FLEW WITH ELVIS ON A UFO!
by holy shit
They came into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Not little
green men, no. There are not just little green men in outer space. There
are little green...little girls. They are desperate to mate with earthmen,
and they wished to be impregnated by my semen.
Up I went into the heavens! ÒWhy do you want my sperm, o little
ones?Ó I asked them. (You speak sort of strangely in outer space.)
ÒTo make a species composed of the genes of little green girls, and
earth men,Ó they replied, their voices sounding like synthesizers.
ÒBut why?Ó
ÒOur little green men have small penises,Ó they answered. (Simple
enough.) I asked why they did not have any green women. ÒBecause, on our
world, when you get bigger, you become afflicted with a disease known as
Ôyuppification.Õ You begin to dream about driving around all day in a volvo,
with a car seat in it, and becoming a moral pillar of your community.ÕÓ
(Fortunately, such thoughts are followed by a quick and painful death, dear
reader!)
So we had some great sex and they sent me back down to earth when
we were done. (Elvis never showed up, but I figured youÕd be more likely
to read this story if I mentioned him in the headline.)
P.S. Expect to see me on NOVA soon, PBSÕs premiere science
program!
AND IN THE END...
THE PROMISE OF YOUNG GIRLS
Are young girls simply sex-neutral proto-feminists? Not,
apparently, according to Star WarsÕ George Lucas. He is currently looking
to cast a Òyoung teen-age girl who...shows the promise of blossoming into
a sensual exotic beautyÓ (for a character referred to as Òthe young QueenÓ
in his new Star Wars film.)
- words in quotes from ZENtertainment #31, which quotes the LA Daily
News.
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666
-Back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-or send e-mail to: file.archives@backdrop.com
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-NEW small Usenet newsgroup: uw.alt.sex.stories
-END OF 31 EMISSION