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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 277 Bush League (nnd) g2
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NOTE to the Christians: Is this my new “hideout?” Gosh. Why
aren’t I hiding?
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 277
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Four
I picked up the brands. Cool handles of cork, swathed in
velvet, kept me from being hurt in picking them up. I walked carefully
to Sylvia. I held the brands far out from my body so my wriggling tits
wouldn’t bump their devilish spheres, or my tummy, or any other part of
me. Louis appeared in the doorway. He brushed past Andre and Polly.
“Louis, come and sit,” Rose beckoned to him. He went to her
and stood beside her solitary chair. Gently, quickly, she unzipped
him. He drew in his breath as he felt her draw out his cock. My brand
was just a few feet away.
“Yes, Louis, how vulnerable you feel, hmmm? What if you’ve
mistreated Fleury, and she suddenly decides to get revenge on you?” Rose
put two fingers beneath Louis’s cock, slender fingers, his cock big and
meaty, and lifted him up for me to examine if I wished, as I held the
deadly brand.
“Don’t squeeze your cheeks,” I said to Sylvia. I touched the
inside of her furrow. She flinched. “It’s just my finger,” I told
her. She said something, I couldn’t understand it. I brought the brand
close to her ass crack. I let her feel the heat of it.
“Don’t allow it to cool. Press it right in. Now!” Rose
ordered me. I bit my lip. I pressed into the flesh of Sylvia’s bottom
with all my might, using not my finger but the brand itself. She
howled. I think I lost some of my hearing, she screamed so loud. As
she screamed I realized I’d forgotten the other brand. She would have
to suffer twice. “Hold, hold, hold, ten seconds must pass,” Rose said,
counting to herself. I closed my eyes and kept the brand pressed hard
against her bottomflesh. I could smell the skin as it sizzled, like
meat over a roasting pit. Sylvia tossed her head frantically. Her long
hair was still streaming, threshing, when I reopened my eyes. Rose told
me that the time was up. I lifted away the brand. Deep in the cleft of
her wide-apart bottom, right next to her anus, there was an angry red
V. Her brand. I stood up and rushed to the fireplace. I did not want
to make her wait.
Fetching the other brand, I returned to her. She was sobbing
in a loud outburst of tears. Her bare legs, pinioned to the platform,
shivered, her bare hips strove to break free somehow of the tummy rope.
I got down behind her, put my fingers within her frantic buttcrack, and
stabbed the second brand home. Rose counted off the time. When she hit
10 I lifted up the brand. I felt vastly relieved that the whole
procedure was over. I was wet with my own sweat. Trembling, I stood up
and returned the awful brand to the fire.
Louis was guided to Sylvia by Rose. She had been frigging him,
and he was deathly excited by seeing Sylvia branded. It was a simple
matter to bring him off. Gladly he loosed his soothing sperm into the
crack of Sylvia’s bottom. He did not fuck her. He merely stood over
her and showered down his love juice. I don’t know whether she
appreciated it or not. She was in too much agony to care much either
way, I think. I ran to her and knelt in front of her and patted her
hair and kissed her face. We all consoled her then, Polly and Rose and
myself, and Louis, and even Andre who, with a little help from Polly,
found himself emptying his balls into Sylvia’s bottom crack. Maria
brought a bowl of cool water and we bathed her face with soft clothes
and then, kissing her bottom, tasting the sperm of our boyfriends, we
poured the cool water over her bottom. When we untied her she rose
shakily to her feet, lifted by Andre and Louis, and she thanked us.
Amidst her free-flowing tears she thanked us. We took her to her room
and bedded her down. For the next three days we took special care of
her. My role became that she’d assumed toward me. I joined Joanne in
bathing and feeding her and seeing to her potty. Louis and Andre fucked
her every day, to keep her happy. They fucked her in her cunt. They
were forbidden to touch her bottom.
----------------------------------------------------------------
A R E A D I N G F U N D has been established for Stephen Knox,
imprisoned in a federal penitentiary for ordering a swimsuit video
featuring teenage girls. To help provide books to Knox (formerly a Phd.
candidate at Penn State), send any amount to: Uncommon Desires
Newsletter, P.O. Box 2377, New York, NY 10185. Make checks payable to:
Ophelia Editions.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Five
There was to be an orgy. (There’s simply no politer way to put
it.) Rose sat me down beforehand and pressed a riding crop into my
hand. It was stout, not too long, or too short, with a loop of leather
at the business end of it.
“Use this to see that everyone keeps fucking,” Rose told me.
Her eyes were sincere. “No slackers.” I turned the crop in my hands.
It felt light, yet it would surely hurt if I whacked it against
someone’s bare hiney.
“No slackers,” I said aloud.
“Not even the females,” Rose told me. “Everyone is to keep
working at it, right through. If not with one person, then with
another. If the males lose their hardness, there is nothing to prevent
them from pleasing females with their mouths, their fingers, their
hands. Of course they will all be young males so they should be up
again in no time, but don’t let them rest. Keep them busy.”
I swung the crop through the air. It made a whistling sound.
“And the girls?” I asked.
“That is the biggest myth of all, that girls are dainty,” Rose
laughed. “Keep them at it too. Girls can spend and spend, and we’ll
have plenty of lubricant if their moist little pussies clam up. Make
sure they are kept just as busy as the men. If they don’t like one boy,
they can certainly have another. There’ll be no shortage of young cocks
for them to milk.”
I looked at her. Lightly I touched the crop to her bare
shoulder. We were in our bikinis. “And you?” I asked her.
“Don’t spare me either,” Rose said, and bowed her head a little
bashfully. I stuck the loop of the crop against her bosom. Lightly I
tried to pry her bra cup down to loose her breasts upon the quiet
sedateness of the parlor. The cup was lightly woven. I watched as her
nipples sprouted within them, pushing against the fabric and denting it.
“It will be fun dominating you,” I told her frankly. I touched
the tip of the crop to each of her risen nipples.
“Not too hard,” Rose breathed.
“No harder than you did me,” I answered, and intended to
include in my remark all those she’d let strike me at her castle. Rose
brushed the insides of her thighs with her fingers. I lowered the crop
and pointedly stuck it directly against her pussy.
“Don’t,” Rose sighed. Only her flimsy bikini panties kept me
from poking the crop into her.
“Those will come off soon,” I told her. She looked up at me.
I had pink ribbons in my hair. My makeup was exquisite. I’d spent all
day letting her beautician do my hair and my face for me. Now the
beautician had left. Rose and I looked like we were made-up for some
fine formal event, but we only wore our bikinis. Plus earrings, and
spiked pumps.
Rose picked up one of the invitations and gave it to me. I
looked at it. Lace trimmed its edges. On its outside, written on
satin, in cursive, as if for a wedding invitation, was “You are
Invited.” I opened it. The interior was satin too. “To a Sex Party!”
was inscribed inside. Had Chuck Rob received invitations like this when
he was governor of Virginia? Did Bill and Hillary have such invitations
secreted away in their ‘family’ album, the part Chelsea was never
permitted to see? I wondered.
“Drinks and Food will be Provided, as well as all Necessaries,”
the invitation went on to say. “Attire is Casual, Preferably a Simple
Swimsuit. Expect to Stay the Night.”
I heard a car approaching within the castle’s sheltered
entryway. “That should be the the first of them,” Rose said to me.
I laid my invitation on the coffee table in front of the
couch. “Alright,” I said. I flicked my crop at her but didn’t hit
her. “I expect you to be on your best behavior,” I told her.
“I’ll try,” Rose answered. Then, rising slightly to peer
through the parlor’s windows, whose shades were uncharacteristically
drawn back to let in the sunlight, she added, “Let me handle the
introductions.”
Kelly heard our guests arrive and ran to fetch Louis and Andre
and Cheyenne and Polly. Bambi was away, thankfully. She would have
wound up taking my place as mistress if she’d been here. I let out a
little breath of surprise as Louis walked into the room. Polly was
between him and Andre. She was happily leading them both. They wore
small Speedo swimsuits and Polly had on a tiny bikini. Like mine, her
bikini contained no elastic. It had to be tied on to stay on, and as a
result she had twin bows tied along her hips, to keep her nothing
panties on, and another bow at her back to keep her bra on. Her bra was
so light that it didn’t hold her at all, but merely covered her. As a
result her boobies jiggled at her every slightest movement. My bosoms
were no better contained. Simply by breathing I put on a show. My
nipples had risen. I felt their points pressing stiffly into my bra.
Louis and Andre walked with some embarrassment. The thought of
an orgy had sent their cocks into the stratosphere in terms of
erection. Their small swimsuits could barely contain them. I feared
either of their cocks might pop out into public view at any moment.
“Try to control yourselves, boys. We have company coming,” I
said to my Louis, and to Andre. I lifted the crop a little to hint that
I might whack them right across their members if they didn’t try to calm
their erections a little. They sat down with Polly between them on a
couch. Kelly appeared, her breasts prettily bare, wearing just an apron
and black thigh-high stockings. Plus pumps, of course, and earrings,
and her little white maid’s hat, that matched her apron. She offered
them drinks from a tray. Then she offered me a drink in turn, showing
her bottom unselfconsciously to Louis and Andre as she bent to serve
me. I sat on a couch near theirs, but angled so that she was showing
them her bottom as she showed me her breasts. Taking my drink slowly, I
admired her young bosoms as they swayed like ripe fruit hanging from a
tree. Her nipples were as hard as mine. I brushed my riding crop over
their points. Kelly shivered.
“You must serve us, but you must participate too,” I told her
frankly. She bit her lip. I think she was a little scared of the crop,
or at least of me wielding it.
“Yes ma’am,” Kelly answered me.
“Her bottom is too white,” Polly said aloud. I think she
assumed she might get to play with the crop too, since we were friends.
Kelly’s bottom was, of course, perfect. Her legs were tanned right up
to where her panties usually were. Then, since she in fact had no
panties on now, in the parlor, we could admire her bottom crack and her
smooth cheeks.
“Polly, I’m in charge of the crop,” I told her, and dismissed
Kelly, who left the room, despite her misgivings, sashaying her bottom
just as lewdly as she could for Louis and Andre. Cheyenne entered.
Like myself and Polly and Rose, she wore only a teensy bikini. She
walked to the couch where Louis and Andre sat. She smoothed her palms
under her bottomcheeks, as if smoothing out her dress before she sat
down, perhaps thinking that she wore one, moving her hands by force of
habit. Then, realizing she had no dress, she blushed a little and sat
down. Selfconsciously she glanced at Louis, who sat beside her, and saw
that his groin was stuffed full with his excited erection. Her blush
increased. Then, summoning a little courage perhaps, knowing I held a
crop, she lightly plucked at the front of Louis’s nylon swimsuit with
her fingers.
“You’ve got a wet spot on the front of your swimsuit,” Cheyenne
told Louis. None of us had gone swimming this morning. We were wet, if
we were wet, from our own juices alone.
“How’s your bottom?” I asked Cheyenne. She shifted her seat on
the couch, as if to check its condition.
“All better,” she answered me shyly. “And yours?” She
remembered how Bambi had strapped me after I’d finished with her.
“The same,” I answered.
INTERVIEW WITH A SPAMMER
by holy joe
I finally tracked down one of the people who’s spamming me. It
turns out it’s a young woman. She’s a student at Peoria University.
(PU for short.) I found her in the ‘Womyn Only’ dormitory. I’ll omit
her name. Here’s my interview with her:
h.j. Hi. Are you the person who’s been spamming me?
PU: I am ONE of the people who’s been spamming you. There are 23
million people on the Internet, and three of us don’t agree with your
views. Therefore, you must be eliminated.
hj: Why don’t you like my views?
PU: I need a beau. But if all the men are reading your sex stories,
how can I ever get a man interested in me?
hj (detecting an odor): Did you ever consider wiping your butt after
you take a shit?
PU: You men! That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Perfume, underarm
deodorant, vaginal deodorant. There’s more to a woman than how she
smells! Why can’t you accept me as I am?
hj: All 300 pounds of you?
PU: That’s another thing! Why should you care about my weight? It’s
my mind that’s important!
hj: I just didn’t want my bed to break when you hopped in it...
PU: Well, I’m not going to give you a piece of my ass! I’m going to
give you a piece of my mind! First of all, you men are evil!
hj: Why?
PU: Because you won’t go on a date with me!
hj: I don’t want to have to buy 300 extra air fresheners for my car.
PU: And if you did take me on a date, we’d probably go to some horror
movie, where you’d expect me to jump in your lap!
hj: Not exactly...
PU: Or you’d take me to some romance flick, and expect to kiss me after
it’s over!
hj: Sure, if Hell freezes over.
PU: And then you’d probably take me home to your dumpster and rape me!
hj: Um, yeah.
PU: And then I’d have to go to the rape crisis center, and I’d have to
sue you, and receive YEARS of counseling --
hj: That wouldn’t be a bad idea...
PU: And in addition to that I’d be a victim! For the rest of my life!
hj: Fine. I won’t take you on a date then.
PU: WHAT?! That’s what’s wrong with you men! You have no interest in
a strong, assertive woman like me!
hj: I value my life, that’s why. And my dick.
PU: Get out! How dare you imply that sex with me wouldn’t be as good
as sex with some dopey Playmate!
hj: Would it even be sex?
PU: OUT! OUT! OUT! And if I ever catch you on MY Internet again,
I’ll complain to your ISP!
hj: That would be a new tactic...
PU: You [irrelevant bullshit deleted] !!! I’m calling the campus
police right now! You’ve insulted me!
hj: I think ‘assaulted’ would be the term you’re looking for, if I’m up
to speed on my feminist theory.
PU: Yes! You’ve assaulted me! You came up here, and knocked on my
door, and you came in when I invited you to come in, and you even LOOKED
at me! That’s ‘lookism,’ and it’s a form of sexual harassment, which is
specifically prohibited by our code of conduct here at PU!
hj: Well, I’ll go look at some cheerleaders then.
PU: You men !!! That’s all you care about !!! Bimbos in skimpy
cheerleader outfits !!! Bimbos who like you and say nice things to you
and smile at you !!!
hj: I guess I’m just some evil man...
PU: That’s right !!! ALL men are evil !!! Go to Hell you awful
piece of shit !!!
hj: I think I’m already there. Goodbye.
Well, anyway, that was my interview with her. I guess we’ll
just have to put up with her, here on the Internet. After all, it’s not
like she’s going to be spending Friday nights out of her dorm room.
AND IN THE END...
“Most abortions could be prevented with better contraception.
The range of contraceptives available in America is much smaller than in
most of Western Europe; education is scanty; access is harder and more
expensive. Unsurprisingly, the rate of unintended pregnancies is far
lower in Europe. Many insurance companies and managed-care
organisations will pay for abortions, but few cover the cost of
contraceptives. When will some enterprising politician take up that
cause?”
- The Economist, May 24, 1997, pg. 27.
(Vote for holy joe! - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 277 EMISSION
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