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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Hamilton. Sturges.
http://www.amazon.com
Issue No. 359
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Epilogue
Shantila rubbed my bottom. Her touch was light.
ÒReady?Ó she asked me. I hesitated, then nodded briefly. IÕd come
here for this. She would pay me when it was over.
Shantila drew back her hand. And the nerd did a strange thing. He
plopped right down behind me, sitting on the floor, and squeezed his legs
together. Then he pulled a small spiral notebook out of his shirt. He
grabbed a pen from behind his ear.
ÒWhat are you doing?Ó Shantila asked him.
ÒIÕm going to write all this down!Ó the nerd said happily. ÒI mean, if
you wonÕt let me take photos... of course IÕd need to borrow a camera from
you if you have one...Ó
ÒNo photos,Ó Shantila said firmly. ÒI do have some respect for her
privacy.Ó She nodded perfunctorily at me, but I was grateful for it.
ÒOkay, then. Just paddle away and IÕll write it all down for the guys
on the Internet!Ó the nerd grinned. I couldnÕt see him but I could hear his
voice and it certainly sounded like he was grinning.
ÒWhat are you going to write... SPLAT?Ó Shantila asked.
ÒUm, donÕt worry. IÕll add in some extra stuff and name it after this
girl at school who calls me a nerd,Ó the nerd answered.
ÒAlright then,Ó Shantila said. And, as if inspired by his reportage to
give me a really sumptuous punishment, she struck me as hard as she
could.
THE END
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
PassionÕs Playpen
Chapter One
She sensed it within him. A restlessness, a kind of animalistic
hunger. They had met only recently. They were new lovers. And yet she
sensed that somehow they were not. He had known other girls. And now
he knew her. And there was something in her that sparked him to do more
with her than he had done with any of the others. Did he wish to use her?
All lovers use each other in some fundamental way. They meet, they
chat, and then they love. But she felt he was bored with such superficial
passings. This girl today, or that tomorrow. And although she herself had
not had many lovers, and was much younger than he (at least she felt she
was) she yearned too for something more. But not, it would seem, the
simplicities of life that an older female might wish for. She was still
quite young and spirited, in her own shy way. She wished to be loved as
deeply and as thoroughly as any human being could be.
She listened as the horses drew their carriage down the gas-lit
street. Turning her head to look at this quaint attempt at urban renewal,
her breath slightly fogged the carriageÕs glass window. There was a
flurry of snow outside; premature for this early in the autumn.
He put his arm around her. She drew away, a little frightened. Of
herself, really, for he would never hurt her. Unless.... she let the word
hang within her mind. Unless she asked for it. But not directly. No.
Directly would be too gauche. But she remembered the pain of losing her
hymen and knew she had wanted to be hurt that night, when she was 13
and the moon was full and her lover was brimming with passion.
Now, with another lover, much older and suave in his movements, she
sensed again the possibility of pain. This lover had all the social graces,
yet he wished to use her as no man dared. As a...
ÒDo you wish for me to be?Ó And again her voice broke, this time
audibly, not just in her mind. She tried to give a little cough to cover her
nervousness.
ÒDo I what?Ó he asked politely. He straightened a lock of her hair
that had fallen crossways into her eyes. He tugged at the collar of her
blouse. She had not brought her fur and she was cold and the coldness
forced her to find warmth and solace in the arms of her lover.
ÒA slave.Ó
There. She had said it. She had not meant to say it but she had. She
felt him adjust himself, as if a sudden growth within him had made him
uncomfortable. And she realized he was not as old as she fancied. She
could feel a kind of youthful exuberance shiver through him, like on the
night when she was 13 and her lover had stripped her panties down to
expose her sex and pierce it.
For the first time.
ÒI...Ó Now it was her lover who coughed.
ÒPossess yourself,Ó she thought, gritting her front teeth a little. ÒI
am putting myself into your hands.Ó
ÒYes. I want you to be a slave.Ó
ÒA slave.Ó She felt the same excitement shoot up her spine that had
just possessed him moments ago. Not ÔhisÕ slave, but ÔaÕ slave. That was
quite different. ÔAÕ slave could be used by anyone, and was the center of
attention for all whom she served. That was not the simple, passionate
slavery of a girl alone in a cabin with her lover. That was... Well, what
was it? That was the girl as complete subservient, obeying all, but loved
by all too, in a physical way.
Could she stand such love? Would it be too much for her? She did
not wish to think of it. She put it out of her mind with all her effort. Yet
she sank a little more deeply into her loverÕs arms. Because it was cold,
she told herself.
He unbuttoned the top button of her collared blouse. ÒI can have the
driver take us there if you wish,Ó he murmured. He was all suaveness and
self-possession again. She liked that.
ÒWhere?Ó she asked. She looked at him with big innocent childÕs
eyes, for she was a child, really, she told herself. Barely 19 and just a
college sophomore. He was 35, not young at all, nor did she wish for him
to be. And yet again she felt him twist a little in his seat and she
watched as he moved his legs, trying to relieve himself of a sudden
stiffness. Where he was taking her, he had not been there before either.
ÒA place where IÕd like to keep you for awhile,Ó he said softly. He
looked at her with his deep sky-blue eyes and she felt small in his arms.
He brushed her cheeks with his lips and she drew away again, but his arms
were completely around her now and there was noplace for her to go.
ÒYouÕd like me to stay there?Ó she asked.
ÒYes. IÕd like to keep you there,Ó he said.
ÒBut--Ó she did not cough this time. She merely spoke the word and
let it hang. He unbuttoned the second button on her blouse.
ÒYou are on break from school,Ó he said.
ÒOnly for three days,Ó she replied. ÒBecause of the renovations.Ó
ÒBut you could stay away a little longer? Your things are in your
dorm room, nobody will bother them. You are only taking electives this
year...Ó
ÒThatÕs true,Ó she admitted. She looked down at her knees. They
were bare. She remembered skinning them as a child. She had run home
crying and they had taken two weeks to heal but sheÕd learned to skate.
He reached down along her thighs and straightened the hem of her
skirt. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something. She swallowed.
He had picked her up for dinner at eight and now it was ten. They had both
eaten salmon and she felt an easy softness within her.
ÒAre you wearing panties tonight?Ó he asked her. She felt herself
shiver. He knew she always wore panties. She was not like those girls
who went dancing without their panties on. Her legs were fine and firm
and flawless and she was barelegged, without hose, but she of course
wore panties. And a bra, beneath her prim blouse with her collar and her
buttons, two of which heÕd now undone. Her skirt was black leather and
she wore a seductive little black leather vest, and black pumps, and a
black ribbon which held her hair in a loose ponytail, but she still
nonetheless wore her panties. They were white. They might have been
slinky black or red but on this night, dressing, she thought sheÕd prefer
white, perhaps as an antidote to his intentions.
ÒOf course IÕm wearing panties,Ó she replied softly.
ÒTake them off,Ó he said.
This time when she tried to draw away there was not even any room
in his arms, and she found she could not pull even a little bit away, though
she tried.
ÒTake them off,Ó he said again.
ÒBut?Ó she let the question hang lightly in the air. It was a
butterfly. He had the net.
ÒThe seat is spotless. Take them off and give them to me. I will
need to give them something when we arrive to show your consent.Ó He
drew back to give her room, but only so that she could take off her panties.
She reached behind herself. She unzipped her skirt. It was too tight
for her to reach inside of. She had purposely bought a skirt that moulded
her ass and clung to the tops of her thighs. And then, sheÕd bought the
finest, silkiest panties she could, for she still wished to wear panties
despite the snugness of her skirt. They were opaque panties though, to
keep her from being seen should she somehow find herself without her
skirt on.
And yet now, obeying him, with the snow falling outside and the air
quite chilly inside the coach, she unzipped her skirt. She felt her girlish
bottom push through the unzipped halves of her skirt, like a balloon
seeking freedom. She unzipped her skirt right down to the end, watching
all the while, nervously, the driver of the coach in his rearview mirror. He
had the courtesy not to look back on the lovers, on her.
ÒNow the panties,Ó her lover told her. She felt her panties against
her bottom, protecting it from the coachÕs smooth vinyl seat. She
adjusted her skirt on her thighs so that it lay over them, unzipped but still
shielding her from the coachmanÕs eyes.
She raised her bottom a little and tugged down the back of her
panties.
ÒWhere are we going?Ó she asked her lover, looking up at him, as she
felt the nakedness of her bold bare bottom make contact with the vinyl of
the seat. It was chilly and slick, for they had only entered the carriage a
little while ago and her bottom had not had time to warm it. Her lover
seemed to enjoy the look on her face as she felt the coolness of the vinyl
touch her bare ass.
She drew her panties down her thighs. She had to yank them down
carefully lest she displace her skirt and send it to the floor. That would
have left her bare, with just her blouse on, showing her bush to the driver.
Her lover, gallantly, saw her predicament and caught a corner of her
unzipped skirt in his hand to keep it in place.
ÒAll the way off,Ó he said. She leaned forward and felt her breasts
fall broodingly forward into her blouse. Her bra was light and sheer and
held her only tangentially. She had full uplifted bosoms that needed no
support. She liked to feel them move when she danced but she could not
bring herself to not wear any bra. So she chose just the very lightest
ones, sheer, lace trimmed, but without any underwiring or elastic. They
were to preserve her modesty. They did nothing to keep her from having a
bouncy demeanor.
CATALOG REVIEW
by holy joe
Mystic Trader, free. Catalog, 8 1/2 x 11, full-color, slick paper, 48
pages. 1-800-634-9057.
Review: Well, IÕm moving up in the world. Before, I was living in
a cardboard box. But now I live in my very own porta-potty! ItÕs a
little smelly, but I thank God every day that the construction crew that
just finished building the new Federal Building forgot to take it with
them. Hopefully they wonÕt come back for it. I figure, with my own
toilet, IÕm pretty well set in life. Sure, it would be nice to have a
shower, so I could take a bath, but, then again, it does rain pretty often
where I live. I figure I should count my blessings, instead of wishing
for more. DonÕt you agree?
IÕm no longer alone in the world, either. Yesterday a man visited
me. I welcomed him into my home. I showed him around. I even let him
take a shit on my toilet. He liked the flowers IÕd picked out of the
lawn, from the Bank next door, and put in a vase. He told me I was
unrecognized by the world, and would I be interested in making an
impact?
Of course! I told him. He asked if IÕd be kind enough to store
some boxes for him, in my porta-potty. They say ÒTNTÓ on them. The
man said that stands for ÒTurner Network Television.Ó Imagine! I
guess IÕm affiliated with the Turner Networks now. I guess theyÕre
going to set up a news bureau outside the new Federal Building. I hope
they have plenty of news to cover. Maybe IÕll even be on T.V.!
Let me tell you, I could certainly use the money. The can
collecting business isnÕt what it used to be. Lots of guys are muscling
in on it these days. All the good dumpsters are taken-- something
called the Can Collecting Mafia has moved into town. They wanted me
to join. They told me they could get me rights to a good dumpster, in a
ritzy area. But I said Ôno.Õ IÕm a law abiding citizen, after all!
So here I am, broke but happy, sitting in my porta-potty, reading
my porn. If youÕve ever seen pointy bottles in a porno pictorial, and
wondered where the photographer got them, I now have the answer.
Check page 25 of this catalogue. You can now take photos of your
favorite girl, with sexy, pointed bottles sticking up in the background!
TheyÕre called ÒEgyptian Aromatherapy perfume bottles.Ó You can get
one for $18.00, or seven for $99.00.
If you wish to be more direct, add a ÒTown CryerÓ to your photo.
(Page 12) ItÕs a statue of a man with a large, removable penis.
Primitive villages use him to summon the townspeople; by removing the
penis and whacking it against the man. Thank God in America we have a
wholesome way of gathering our people together: prime time T.V.!
If your girl is youthful, perhaps youÕd like to give her this prop: a
ÒShaman Rattle.Ó (Page 13) Each rattle is hand carved, from a gourd
picked from a tree. The rattle comes in two sizes: one big, one small.
Is the small one for her bottomhole, and the big one for her twat? ItÕs
up to you!
This is a nice catalog. There isnÕt a whole lot of great stuff in
here, but if you like the Far East, and Africa, youÕll find some items you
might not be able to get otherwise.
The Age of Innocence, by David Hamilton, $31.50. (Retail: $45.00)
Large-sized Art book with many black-and-white photos, and some
color photos. Many pages. Web: http://amazon.com or
http://barnesandnoble.com
Review: This book is the sacred religious text of Temple of Pan, a
religion devoted to worshipping little girls.
A central tenet of the Pan theology is that God is an 8-year-old
girl. Satan, in this theology, often takes the form of a grown woman.
Lesser demons are male lackeys of Satan. They serve SatanÕs will
instead of GodÕs.
Daily worship of this divinely inspired book is required for all
GodÕs believers. Any who blaspheme this book are damned to Hell. Hell
is defined as association with Satan. (A grown woman.) The worst
offenders are often found to literally be in bed with Satan.
Previously this book was found in the Art and Photography section
of better bookstores. However, if you see it on display there, please
ask that it also be stocked in the Religion section. Then new adherents
to the Pan theology will be able to locate it without exposing
themselves to photo-books of grown women.
Just as the Holy Bible consists of the Old Testament and the New
Testament, this book has a companion. It is:
A Place in the Sun, by David Hamilton, $31.50. (List price: $45.00)
Hardcover. Many color pages. Web: http://amazon.com or
http://barnesandnoble.com
AND IN THE END...
Of course, thereÕs always this religion...
ÒBut what is Nirvana? It is difficult to find an erroneous answer
to this question; for the Master left the point obscure, and his
followers have given the word every meaning under the sun. In general
Sanskrit use it meant ÔextinguishedÕ - as of a lamp or fire.Ó
- The Story of Civilization, by Will and Ariel Durant, Volume 1, pg. 435.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browserÕs ÒLocationÓ window. Press your ÒreturnÓ key.
Click on ÒPower SearchÓ in the middle of the screen. Next,
Type in: roller39@idt.net in the box that appears.
Click on ÒfindÓ (the button to the right of the box).
-Or search using: roller666@earthlink.net
-Other providers:
Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com
or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock SturgesÕ Radiant
Identities and David HamiltonÕs The Age of Innocence. Support art!
- JOIN NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 359 EMISSION
Thank God they didnÕt ask about my religion!