And Exon said, ŅLet there be Decency.Ó And there was...
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 43
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
A Party for Perversion
Chapter Three
Roger, meanwhile, had apparently been persuaded by Lori's long kiss
to forebear spanking Lori. The teen, sensing an opportunity, sprang up
from her "daddy's" lap and tottered away on her heels. Peter glimpsed her
nude bottom as it retreated into the shadows of the apartment.
"How many girls do you have in there?" Peter asked Alison. There
was an air of incredulity in his voice.
"Three!" Alison said enthusiastically. "Do you like us?"
"Yeah!" Peter breathed. "Do you guys do this a lot?"
"I never have before," Alison said. She turned her face inquisitively
toward Jane's.
"I'm a bit more experienced than Alison here," Jane said demurely.
Mike came up behind her and rubbed his unshaven face against her clear
cheek. Jane let her eyelids close and pressed herself back against Mike.
Her hands slipped down and closed around his hips. She pulled them
forward.
"Hey, that's my girl for tonight," Jake said peevishly to Mike. "You
take Miss Chastity here. Maybe you can break her curiosity."
"Sorry!" Mike said in mock embarrassment. He separated from Jane
and stepped over to press himself into Alison. The blonde, less sensual
than Jane, merely accepted his torso pressing against her back side
without comment.
Lori appeared suddenly between the two girls.
"I'm the lady of this house and I say you can come in," Lori said
matter-of-factly. "But you've got to change into this first." She handed a
skimpy leopard skin loin cloth through the open window.
Peter was dumbfounded as he took the loincloth, but obviously
turned on.
"IŃI'd have to undress out here," Peter said.
"That's what we're waiting for," Lori said frankly. "But I promise not
to peek if you other girls don't." Alison and Jane giggled and agreed not to.
"You'll just have to take your chances with anyone who might be passing
out on the beach though," Lori said.
"If you want to join us, do it," Jane said. And with that blunt
statement she reached out and grasped the raised half of the window and
pulled it closed. A moment later and the curtains had been drawn, leaving
Peter staring at a the mute silence of a closed window that didn't even
hint at the debauchery within.
After a moment's hesitation, with his dog jumping at his feet in
ignorant anticipation of the circumstances that were about to unfold,
sensing only his master's stimulation, Peter decided to undress. He
unbuckled his belt faster than he ever had and kicked off his pants. He
peeled off his shirt and, after a moment's reflection, shucked off his
underpants. If these girls were as hot as he thought they were underpants,
much as he hated to part with them out here on the porch, would not be
needed again until morning.
Peter stood trembling, bare assed naked, intently studying the loin
cloth he had been instructed to wear.
"How the Hell do I put on this thing?" Peter was asking himself when
the porch light was flicked on. He heard giggles from inside the
apartment.
"Dammit! Turn off the fucking porch light!" Peter swore. Perhaps
this whole thing was a put on after all. But a moment later the light was
doused and Peter, his eyes adjusting once again to the light of the newly
risen moon, figured out how to tie the loin cloth around his waist.
It was a simple affair, as might have been imagined. This was a true
loin cloth, not the modest one cooked up for Tarzan matinees by
Hollywood. The loin cloth was tied at the side of the waist, and it
consisted of nothing but a triangle of hanging cloth in front and a triangle
of hanging cloth in back. Between the two triangles Peter's hips were
bare.
The triangle in back did a serviceable job of covering Peter's bare
buttocks, but the triangle in front lay atop his erect penis, the apex of the
triangle just covering his pee hole. Beneath his balls dangled freely, not
covered by anything.
Peter rapped on the sliding glass door that led off the porch. The
curtain whisked back and the door opened. Peter stepped inside, his dog
at his heels. The odor of sexual excitement came to his nostrils, mixed
with the smell of the wood that lay crackling in the fireplace.
"No dogs," Alison said to Peter. She handed him a rope. Reluctantly
Peter took the rope and led his agitated dog over to the porch railing. He
made the dog sit and looped the rope through the dog's collar and tied it.
Then, painfully aware of the display he was providing to any passersby on
the beach as he crouched in the moonlight in his loin cloth, Peter bound the
rope's free end to the porch railing. He prayed that the sliding glass door
wouldn't be locked behind him, leaving him foolishly crouched on the porch.
Acts of vandalism passed in quick succession through his mind.
Peter bade his dog be good and though the dog whined it did not bark
as he turned away. The glass door was re-opened for him and Peter
entered. The sight inside was unbelievable.
Three girls, all naked, two with their bottoms and breasts coated
with dried cream, stood in high heels awaiting his entry. Two of the three
females had a naked man beside her, gently caressing her lithe form as his
penis throbbed in anticipation.
"I may be over-dressed for this," Peter said.
"Not at all," Jane said cheerily. "We like you in your little loin
cloth."
"So what exactly were you expecting of me?" Peter asked.
"A great erection, which you obviously have," Alison smirked.
"She collects men with big dicks," Jake, who stood beside Jane, said
of Alison. Jake's fingers passed over Jane's flat tummy and pulled gently
at her pubic hair.
Roger strode forward, still dressed except for his exposed penis, a
drink in one hand and a whip in the other.
"Here, son, have some Chivas," Roger said, handing Peter the glass.
"That's quite an impressive member you've got there."
"Uh, thank you, sir," Peter said uneasily. He accepted the glass and
took a swallow. Lori, slightly shorter than the other two females and
visibly younger, beamed at him.
"Jane and I have decided that as the resident expert on the subject, I
should provide a course," Roger said aloud to the group. Jake now realized
what Jane and Roger had been discussing as Lori and Alison were peeking
at Peter undress. "The six of you shall obey my instructions that you
might learn and carry on in my stead once we have parted. I shall teach
you all manner of unusual tricks and positions that you may delight your
friends with. Are you game for such a proposition?"
"I want to fuck," Jake said impulsively. But tonight he was Jane's,
and she was adept at handling eager males.
"We must take you downtown to the Pink Pussycat and fit you with a
groin thong," Jane said to Jake. She curled her finger around the flange at
the base of the head of his penis and smiled at his wide-eyed disbelief. "I
know you're very eager, Jake, but I need you at your maximum fullness if
we're to get just the right fit for you."
"IŃI don't want a, a whatever it is you said," Jake protested.
"You just don't want one because you've never had one," Jane said.
"Roger here assures me that they're quite fun...at least for us girls."
"Fuck that," Jake said, and seized Jane's slim shoulders. He thrust
her backward down onto the rug. He mounted himself between her splayed
legs and was just positioning his penis for entry into her labia when
Roger's whip struck him hard against the buttocks.
"Eeeyow!" Jake howled. Mike, Jane's husband-to-be and more
accustomed to her predilections, seized Jake around the torso and bodily
lifted him up from Jane. Peter, not really knowing why, helped Mike. Even
Alison and Lori got in the act, although largely for show. Alison did
manage to grab hold of Jake's rod as he was pulled away, however.
"Girls, let's sponge these men off so we can take them downtown,"
Roger commanded. Jake sat in defeat on his haunches as the girls, at
Jane's direction, proceeded to the bathroom. A minute later Roger asked
Peter to accompany him.
There was the sound of splashing and something being filled as Mike
squatted down beside Jake.
"Hey old boy, don't take it too hard, Jane's done this to me before,"
Mike said consolingly. "In the end she'll pump you drier than a desert. She
just likes to tease a lot, that's all."
"Well, I'm definitely not used to waiting," Jake said.
"That's one of the things a man's got to learn," Mike replied. He was
a year older than his friend and had left the world of fast sex in the back
seat of a car behind. "You've got to let your sexual tastes mature a little.
All females love to flirt, right?"
"Yeah, but I'm pretty good at cutting through that bullshit," Jake
said. "At least I was, until you and Jane invited me and Alison here. Now
she's even making friends with other guys, like that bozo in there," Jake
said, indicating Peter, who had left with Roger.
"Jane brings out the coquette in girls," Mike admitted. "But trust me,
you won't lose Alison. She's just frisky...playful. You weren't expecting to
lose her to me, were you?"
"Hell no," Jake said. "But you've got Jane watching over you."
"And despite what you think Peter's got Lori watching over him,"
Mike said. "Roger seems to be turned on by the whole affair. Maybe he's
bi-."
"Well I'm horny," Jake said, rising. "Horny as Hell! What are they
doing in there, anyway?"
Down the hall laughing was heard as Jane, Alison and Lori filled a
large metal container with water and bubbles. Peter and Roger stood
expectantly by, their penises erect, waiting to carry the tub out to the
living room.
Jake and Mike were standing in the living room, gazing down the hall,
when Peter and Roger appeared with the tub. They struggled slightly as,
girls in tow, they carried the tub to the bearskin in front of the fire. The
girls, each carrying a dry sponge, winked beckoningly at Jake and Mike as
they passed.
All of them had recently bathed, but Jake, Mike, Alison, and Jane had
applied cream to their private parts which needed to be removed before
they went downtown to the Pink Pussycat sex emporium. The girls knelt
beside the tub and called Mike and Jake over.
The two men walked up to the girls and all three, including Lori,
dipped their sponges in the warm sudsy water and proceeded to wash the
men's genitals.
"I wish I had cream on my dick," Peter said. Lori smiled up at him
but continued her ministrations with Jake. Both men had to struggle to
keep from coming as the warmth of the sponging laved their aroused loins.
"Keep it over the bearskin," Roger cautioned, not wanting soap suds
all over his carpet. The bearskin could be rolled up and tucked away. The
carpet could not. Roger dearly wished he could lash the girls' sloping
narrow backs and jutting hindquarters. He contented himself with adding
a few logs to the fire. Peter stood amazed as he watched the spectacle
before him. This was more outrageous than anything he had encountered
before, even in supermarket porno mags. His penis ached for attention but
he knew that he was still basically a guest here among his newfound
friends. He wondered what lay in store for him at the Pink Pussycat.
Chapter Four
The sex emporium was filled with all kinds of unique toys whose
sole purpose was to produce some bizarre sexual outcome. The demure
woman behind the counter introduced the six visitors to anal butt plugs,
vibrators, dildos of all shapes and sizes, and even a collection of rubber
ball gags.
Mike and Jake had been asked to don loincloths identical to Peter's
before departing for downtown. They had ridden barechested and barefoot
in an open convertible, wearing only their loincloths. It had been
embarrassing enough for Mike, Jake, and Peter riding along the dark roads
that along the beach to the town, but the humility really hit when they
entered the brightly lit town. Things had not, however, turned out as
uncomfortably as they had expected. CrestPointe, as it was called, was a
beach town. The most any man was wearing on that evening was swim
trunks and a t-shirt, and it was just assumed by people that Mike, Jake,
and Peter were barechested with swim trunks. Even a glance from a truck
or van into the shadowed recesses of the seat compartments in which the
men sat would have revealed only a patterned loincloth. Even the erection
was not much of a problem, as quite a few men on the streets wore "ball
hugger" swim suits which displayed prominent upthrust penises.
In fact the men were not much of an attraction compared to the
girls, who on account of their beauty received appreciative whistles from
not a few of the town's men. Most were visitors, still getting their
bearings with regard to beach life when confronted with yet more
examples of the lure of half-dressed females. Lori, Jane, and Alison wore
braless tee shirts, their nipples poking against the fabric as a result of
the cool night air. Little did the visitors suspect, however, that
underneath each flimsy shirt was a translucent corset. Lori wore a pink
ribbon in her hair to match her pink corset, Jane a black ribbon to match
hers, and Alison a white one. None of the girls wore panties or stockings.
The garters of their corsets dangled uselessly but alluringly in the
vicinity of their pussies. Now, of course, the girls were seated, and each
had brushed her loose garters off the top of her thighs in order to reduce
the chances of their being noticed. The girls sat with backs straight,
jutting their bosoms forth so that their ample cleavage might block a
man's view down into the car and between their legs. They attempted to
look as nonchalant as possible. Roger had forbid the girls crossing their
legs, fearing that they might thereby provide stimulation to their
clitorises. The men, of course, did not cross their legs either.
Roger had insisted that the girls sit up front and the men in back. He
didn't totally trust the girls in their current state of arousal, and didn't
want to be seen driving through town with a trio of self-stimulating,
orgasming girls in the back seat. He doubted the men would choose to
masturbate themselves. They were having trouble holding on to their
semen, and certainly wouldn't spill it and possibly miss out on the
pleasures which lay ahead.
"How much longer?" Lori asked Roger breathlessly. Roger took note
of the fact that the girl had not asked how much further, but rather how
much longer. Clearly she was eager to get inside the Pink Pussycat and
hoped to find release there. Roger made no response and Lori extended her
hand to Roger's penis, which still stuck lewdly out of his tuxedo. She
thumbed the dollop of pre-cum on the tip of his penis, but he brushed her
hand away. He was not about to cheat when everyone else was behaving so
nicely. Lori looked at him with her big eyes and sucked the pre-cum off
her finger.
"We'll arrive before you come," Roger said, squeezing Lori's thigh.
Its flesh shone palely in the moonlight as they crossed between two
sections of the town. The car bumped over a set of railroad tracks and the
girls let out a squeal.
The convertible parked directly in front of the sex shop. The store
was off the beaten path of the town, not in a red light district as might be
expected. It nestled in the business district of the town, some distance
from the bustling beach front, between a small collection of smoked glass
multi-story buildings. Though crowded by day, this district was deserted
at night.
Leading up to the door of the sex shop was a pink carpet which, due
to the curling up of its ends, appeared only recently unfurled. The carpet
was plush and appeared immaculate. The sidewalk on which it lay was
well swept. The emporium itself was subdued, with only a small neon
sign reading "Pink Pussycat." Obviously the store catered to the majority
of its customers during the day; the business crowd.
Roger insisted that everyone get out on the carpeted side of the
street, in other words directly on to the sidewalk, that he might keep his
restored convertible as clean as possible. The girls asked the men to walk
behind them so that their behinds might not be noticed by anyone. The
men, barely better attired themselves, consented. Peter found himself
staring down at Lori's naked bottom as she sashayed into the sex
emporium.
FEMINIST COMPLAINT DEPT.
No complaints have been received this week. Hence, it must be
assumed that the feminists are now entirely satisfied with the contents
of NND.
FORGET ROBERT FROST
President joe has his own inaugural poem!
Who said femininity
Is equated with a Phd?
To me this is insanity
All women need are big titties!
Cooking, cleaning, sewing too
Those are things a woman should do
And at night, when itÕs dark,
Then itÕs time for bedtimeÕs lark!
Vote for me and IÕll restore
America to its days of yore
Traditional values, thatÕs for me
Good food, good sex, tranquility!
VOTE FOR holy joe IN Ō96!
AmericaÕs true BACK TO BASICS candidate!
AND IN THE END...
END OF AN IDEOLOGY?
Yoo Hoo, Ladies!!! Your sacred dogma is once again being questioned!
Opening this Friday is the film Carried Away, starring Dennis Hopper. He
plays a 47-year-old man who has an affair with a 17-year-old girl... and
lives!
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