The Most Widely Read Zine on the Net!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 63
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Desire Isle
Chapter Seven
...A moment later and all three girls were splashing together in the hot, comforting water of the valentine shaped tub, enjoying a soothing soak after their long flight.
Melanie gazed at the pair of boobs on either side of her. Kimberly's were speckled with water, the result of a bout with Melanie that had wetted both girl's mammaries. But both girl's hair still flowed, almost dry, over their slim shoulders, just as if they were posing for some naughty magazine. Melanie noticed that the upper halves of Candy's large, exquisite breasts still bobbed in dry splendor, her shapely skin untouched by the churning water which buoyed them up. The redhead's nipples, so pink and pretty, looked like struggling shipwrecked sailors as they barely kept themselves above the moving froth. Melanie couldn't help herself. Perhaps it was the liquor she had drunk, perhaps the conversations of sapphic pleasures with Gwen that inspired her. Melanie took a bottle of perfumed soap from the rim of the tub and upended it over the nearest of Candy's teats. She squeezed the plastic bottle and soap drooled out its neck and fell onto Candy's bosom. Candy gasped at the unexpected tribute to her titty. She looked down and watched as the scented fluid lumped up on the curve of her breast and then, overcome by its own weight, began to roll down toward her nipple. Melanie saw Candy's nipples stiffen. The trail of soap bumped into Candy's pink bud and curled around it, then, building up, it rolled over the top of the erect nubbin.
Kimberly, never one to be left behind by her sister, joined in the girlish fun by extending a finger to Candy's soap drowned nipple. Easily, gently, she began rubbing the pad of her finger over Candy's little nubbin.
"I wonder what a man would pay to see us like this right now?" Melanie asked, looking deep into Candy's eyes. Candy laughed, an easy laugh, her breasts jiggling slightly.
"I don't know," Candy replied. "He'd pay even more to be with us."
"Perhaps we should relieve those bellhops of their wallets," Melanie said, not knowing why. Kimberly giggled, her massage of the outermost point of Candy's breast continuing.
"Come take a bath with us," Kimberly mimed. "We need our backs washed."
"And our nipples," Candy said.
"Yes, those too, we must be clean all over," Kimberly said. Grinning, she focused her eyes even more assiduously on Candy's soaped teat, as if performing a vital task for a newborn babe.
Melanie anointed Candy's other breast, and Kimberly just as quickly lent her own special touch to that teat as well. It was as if the sisters were welcoming their new friend into the most intimate parts of their lives.
"Do my tits too!" Kimberly said after a moment, sloshing back away from Candy and thrusting out her lovely, newly grown breasts.
"Do them yourself!" Melanie laughed, and aimed her soap bottle at Kimberly and squeezed it hard enough to send a trail of the stuff arching across the tub to hit Kimberly in the face. Kimberly cried out and Melanie, still squeezing, caused looping spurts of the aromatic fluid to splatter upon Melanie's neck and breasts. Candy, joining in the act, grabbed a soap bottle of her own and inundated Kimberly with her own oily tribute. Kimberly, far from retaliating, lifted both her hands to her breasts, grinned, and began rubbing them with her palms. Soon suds were forming, and Candy and Melanie sluiced their bodies across the tub to add more soap to Kimberly's teats. Murmuring of the beauty of Kimberly's breasts, Candy and Melanie squirted yet more soap upon them. Kimberly lifted her breasts, accepting the further oily accolade, eyes glowing as layer upon layer of fluid was mounded onto the curves of her mammaries, looking like half-built spires of some wet sand castle.
"Mmm, strawberry!" Kimberly said as some of the soap that had earlier struck her face trailed past the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were wide, the soap in them not stinging them in the least. "Give me more!" Kimberly demanded, opening her mouth so some of the soap could be squirted into it. But Melanie interceded twixt her and Candy.
"It's not for eating, though a little bit in your mouth won't hurt," Melanie advised. Kimberly, not to be denied, lowered her face toward her breasts to lick the soap off her breasts. But Melanie's hands got there first, and began rubbing the unassimilated mounds of soap into the suds that already clung to Kimberly's tits.
Candy, perhaps inspired by Melanie, slipped behind the girl and lifted her own hands to cup Melanie's boobs from behind. "Does that feel good?" Candy asked, even as Melanie's face took on a look of wonder at the unexpected attention.
"Mmm, yes," Melanie purred, letting herself be pampered as she worked to keep her little sister from devouring the soap on her breasts. This tableau had continued for just a little while when Candy leaned forward and whispered amorously in Melanie's ear:
"I wish I had a dildo on to fuck you with."
"I wish I had one--I'd jam it right up this little cunt," Melanie said of Kimberly. Then: "I told you, don't eat the soap!" as the obstreperous Kimberly made to bow her face to her breasts yet again.
"Help me submerge her. I'll never get her away from this soap otherwise," Melanie said to Candy. The redhead came around from behind Melanie and each of them pressed their hands upon Kimberly's shoulders. As they pushed the girl down into the foaming water Kimberly extended her tongue and flicked it at Candy's teat, just catching a bit of the strawberry soap on her tongue.
"Mmm!" Kimberly said, impishly licking her lips just before her entire head was dunked beneath the tub's miniature waves.
Kimberly began struggling as soon as her head disappeared beneath the water. Melanie felt a hand attack her pussy, Candy too gave a lurch as she was bopped in the tummy by a fist. A moment later and a spluttering Kimberly was let up from beneath the rippling waters, looking like a kitten that had taken an unwelcome bath. At once Kimberly lunged at her sister, and a moment later it was Melanie whose head disappeared beneath the waves. Candy clambered atop Kimberly and managed to pull her off her sibling.
Effortlessly the girls segued into an actual bathing of their bodies. The strawberry squeeze bottles empty now, the girls turned to a cake of soap to do their actual work with. There being only one, and nobody willing to go look for more, the girls shared it. Fortunately it was a generous cake. All three girls rubbed their hands simultaneously on the bar of soap until they had raised suds. Twice the bar slipped from their joint grasp and had to be fetched from the bottom of the tub, necessitating a re-start of the entire procedure. But the girls didn't mind. They giggled and laughed and, finally, hands caked with suds, they each began lathering their own bodies. The bathroom being a bridal suite, no washcloths were in evidence, though no doubt one could have been found if the effort had been undertaken. Instead each girl just used her hands to lather herself, aided by frequent return trips to the bar, which alternately passed between them as each claimed it for her own. (Kimberly seemed to get to hold the bar more than the other two.) At one point, about halfway through, Melanie happened to lean just far enough over the side of the tub to see an unused bath sponge lying on the floor, an apparent casualty of their earlier frolics. Melanie retrieved the sponge for herself and had no sooner wet it than it too became an object of contention between the girls. Like the bar of soap, it also wound up changing owners with surprising frequency.
Their soak and washing finally at an end, the girls stepped from the tub. Languorously their lean bodies reached for towels, their long legs and pendant teats reflecting back at them in the room's many mirrors. Each girl bent forward, hoping to pluck a towel from a towel bar along the wall without having to step off the furry bath mat by the tub. The tiled floor beyond promised to greet their feet with a chill. Kimberly managed to pluck a towel from a bar, but in doing so she caused one of the other two towels to fall to the floor along the wall.
"Thanks a lot," Melanie said. She knew one of them would now be without, and even as she spoke Candy managed to grab the remaining towel from the rack. Melanie need not have complained. Candy, towel in hand, turned to her and wordlessly offered to dry her. Melanie accepted. Even as Candy's body still dripped water, beginning to feel the cold of the room, the redhead worked the towel over her, massaging her deeply with it. Soon Kimberly, wrapped warmly in her towel, was gazing forlornly at the other two, certain that she had been deprived of their fun yet again.
Finally Kimberly hopped from the furry bath mat and leapt across the cold tiled floor to the bedroom carpeting beyond. Melanie, dry now, rubbed down Candy in turn. She admired the redhead's body as she worked. Their was a feeling of electricity between them. Forbidden pleasures seemed to beckon. The curls of Candy's pubic hair seemed so neat and tight, as if God himself had sewn them on for his own personal pleasure. Her thighs were lissome, lightly tanned as if someone had gently brazed them over a fire.
Melanie stood erect, her task done. The towel slipped from her grasp. The two girls looked at each other, their eyes bright. Their hands brushed each other's hips. Their mouths seemed to linger over one another, though untouching. The nipples of their breasts grazed one another. And then, just as quickly as the passion had welled up within them, it was repressed. The girls stepped back from one another. They had shared something there, in that moment, but had pressed it back down within themselves. Someone else was needed to bring it out. A woman like Gwen perhaps, or, better, a man.
The girls retreated across the room together, toward the carpeting of the bedroom. Somehow their feet neglected to inform them of the cold of the tiles. They walked without flinching, their minds preoccupied with other thoughts. Their hands brushed but did not clasp. Breasts preceding them, hips rolling in farewell to the tub, they gained the carpeting beyond the doorway. Kimberly was there, sitting on the edge of the room's only bed, playing her space game. Once more the aliens were on the run. Candy sat down beside her and urged the game from her hands. Kimberly put a palm to Candy's shoulder and leaned in to her, then pointed out the aspects of the game as Candy took command of the imaginary spaceship. Soon Candy was engrossed in childish ways, the sensations she had shared with Melanie on the bath mat shut from her mind. Melanie too, though no fan of the space game, found herself once more preoccupied with simpler things. She found a teddy bear alarm clock snuggling behind a night table lamp on the far side of the bed. With juvenile enthusiasm she picked it up and began fiddling with it. Next to where the bear had been was a bowl of jellybeans. As Melanie looked over the bear she began plucking beans from the bowl and popping them into her mouth.
Chapter Eight
The three girls slept soundly that night, their heads finding refuge on each other's shoulders as they snoozed away the remainder of the waning evening, ensconced in the big honeymoon bed. The next morning they were up bright and early, eager to continue with their trip. After tickling their fancies by ordering room service to bring them breakfast in bed (which they ate in the nude, beneath their sheltering covers), they set about dressing.
Reluctantly the girls split up. Melanie and Candy promised to write. Then separate cabs whisked them away, Melanie headed back to her parents, Melanie and Kimberly back to theirs.
After a week with Gwen home seemed somehow out of place to Melanie. She was glad to be back in her own bedroom with her stuffed animals, prom photos, and boyfriend's letter jackets, but it all seemed so staid now, so boringly normal. Even for a good girl like Melanie, who always tried to do the right thing and please her parents and teachers, there seemed a sudden dullness to life. Was the senior prom and cheap dates on the weekend really all she could look forward to from now on? Not to mention the homework, the ever more stale cheerleading practice, and her lessons on her flute for band. Everything that had always kept her totally happy before seemed hollow now.
Melanie stripped off her clothes and stepped into the bathroom for a shower. Afterward, towelled off, a blowdrier in her hand fanning out her long locks, she looked in the mirror. Suddenly she had a new awareness of her beauty. Just look at that face! Even without any makeup it would have charmed a legion of barbarians. And her body, so slender, yet with a pair of tits that looked like twin juggernauts hell bent on piercing the nearest ship--or the hearts of the sailors onboard. And then there were her long, long legs, supporting trim hips that had just enough flare to them to let every man know she must be legal. Melanie spun about and looked at her bottom. She cupped the twin halves of jutting flesh. They looked like mounds of powder, they were so white. She had felt the riding crop there, thanks to her little sister. What would it feel like to be hit by a whip there, though? Or, as she had seen in a book at Gwen's house, by a birch rod? Is that what the men who always leered at her on the street really wanted to do with her? Was that what was expected of a woman, to pleasure her husband by bouncing and writhing under his punishment? Melanie shivered.
Kimberly knocked on the bathroom door. "Hurry up!" the girl yelled in a demanding voice. Melanie sighed. She opened the door and Kimberly bustled inside. "Some of us have a date tonight," Kimberly said primly.
"Who cares about dates?" Melanie said. "I'm sick of them. Haven't you seen enough back seats of cars by now?"
"Just because you don't have any," Kimberly said, and stuck out her tongue.
"It's not that I don't have any, it's just that I don't want any," Melanie protested. "It's always the same. A back seat that smells like the football team threw up on it, even when the car's a Porsche. An empty beer can or two rolling around under the front seats, somehow missed by the "professional" vacuuming the guy did an hour before the date. I mean, it's just sooo romantic. A touchy-feely movie, then a "romantic" dinner at Denny's with the gang, then the all-important trip to inspiration point where the boy tries to get me undressed before he creams his pants."
"Well, I like it," Kimberly replied, pulling off her taffeta top for a shower. Her breasts jiggled in their bra cups.
ZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Pissed Off Comics #4, 25¢. Minicomic, eight urine-colored pages. Brian Kirk, 93 Sunapee St., Springfield, MA 01108. mootcomics@aol.com, 76365.273@compuserve.com
Review: I have been thinking about walking around town in my Barney the Dinosaur suit. Not only would nobody know that IÕm the great holy joe, but all the little girls would run up to me and hug me. A pervert like me could use a hug now and then.
If youÕre sitting there reading this and thinking, ÒWhat?! You goddam PERVERT!Ó then you need a copy of Brian KirkÕs new Pissed Off Comics. (I call it ÔnewÕ because IÕd never seen it before, even though this is issue 4). Right on the cover some extremely pissed off dude is opening his mailbox and yelling, ÒWhat the HELL is this?Ó YouÕd think he got an unsolicited copy of NND or something. I remember when I got a list of poets and sent out RollerÕs ÒUp Yours, America!Ó minicomics to them. Unsolicited, of course. Roller got back some juicy letters, I can tell you. He likes being abused, which is why I did it for him, as a Christmas gift. (By the way, if gay marriage becomes legal we intend to be married. Not to fuck in Georgia, or anything, but merely as a tax deduction. Shakespeare was enamored of an underaged boy. Roller thinks maybe he can write like Shakespeare if he trains himself to be more gay. (Not that IÕm underaged, of course... we wouldnÕt want any visits from the F.B.I. when weÕre saving money by sharing a hotel room or anything, like those British Parliamentarians do.)
But enough of my long-winded crap. (YouÕll notice I tried every which way to offend you in that last paragraph, just to get you ÔpreppedÕ for this review of Pissed Off Comics!) (Oh, yeah. Did I tell you IÕm opening the holy joe Preschool? The best part is that every girl will be required to get a physical before sheÕs enrolled.) (Hmmm, you should be well ÔpreppedÕ now. Let us proceed...)
(In case you didnÕt notice, I hadnÕt actually read this issue yet. We reviewers are a sly lot, arenÕt we? All that time of yours I just wasted, and I hadnÕt even READ the fucking issue!) (Now I have read it, however... just now.)
This is an O.K. comic. A character named ÔButticelliÕ gets a minicomic out of his mailbox. It pisses him off, so he goes to see its creator. The guy turns out to be a nerd who looks (almost) like Roller. Butticelli proceeds to treat the nerdÕs comics with the ÔrespectÕ they deserve, if you know what I mean. The ending, though, was unsatisfactory. In my opinion, Butticelli should have told the nerd that he was going to help him dry his comics faster when he threw a match on them. Otherwise, the storyÕs ending isnÕt really humorous or anything. But, like IÕve said, BrianÕs best asset is his marvelous drawings. His stories can be slightly deficient at times, although they are still about the best stories youÕll find in all of small press, with the exception of Matt Feazell. (My apologies to Ian Shires, of course.)
You have now taken more time to read my review of Pissed Off Comics than it ever would have taken you to read the comic itself. (Some of us practise time management and some of us donÕt, I guess.)
AND IN THE END...
THE PERVERT IN YOUR DAUGHTERÕS BEDROOM
ÒHe loved little girls. He had tea with them, told them stories, taught them tricks, took them to the seaside, wrote them letters, courted, flattered and teased them. And he took naked photographs of them.Ó - Michael Dorsey on Lewis Carroll, author of Alice in Wonderland. (Penthouse Letters, June 1996, pg. 64.)
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (CuntCastle2c)
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller6666
-(Both sites contain different stories)
-Back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-or send e-mail to: file.request@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. For C-SPAN programming, Call 1-202-628-2205
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-NNDÕs favorite ftp site: members.aol.com/fm99999
-END OF 63 EMISSION
- Ômost widely readÕ source: Holy JoeÕs Research Center