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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 297 Pussy Playland (nnd) g2
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BYE, BYE, LADIES
“Seeing ‘Lolita’ at last reveals that Lyne has translated
Nabokov’s classic with sensitivity, intelligence and style. ... ‘I’m
very proud of this movie,’ [says creator Adrian Lyne], speaking from
Rome. ‘And I think it’s important that it be seen.’ ... Lyne is
‘stunned’ at what he sees as the atmosphere of cultural constriction in
America: ‘Six year-olds who kiss each other in school are charged with
sexual harassment.’”
- Newsweek, October 6, 1997, pg. 72.
(Currently there is no U.S. distributor for the $60 million film
‘Lolita’ because, in the words of one studio executive, “Pedophilia’s a
hard sell.” - h.j.)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 297
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Three
Jeff reached down and grabbed me beneath my arms. With one
pull he yanked me straight up to my feet. My boobs jumped and bobbled
on my chest. I gasped. My hips fell forward, presenting my bush to the
wall. I tottered, finally found my balance. He slapped my bottom hard
to wake me up. I was a newborn, newly in the world after my first real
heavy-duty, butt wrenching fucking. I winced, howled, at the pain of
his slapping palm.
“Oooh, don’t!” I scolded. He did not hit me again. He liked
letting me have a little power. He turned me carefully around and with
Sherry’s help we walked slowly out from the maze of equipment. Jeff’s
penis bounced merrily, not stiff but not deflated, still tantalized by
all the youthful female flesh he had at his disposal. We were, indeed,
his to do with as he pleased.
“Jeff, let’s go upstairs and take a break,” Sherry suggested.
Jeff yawned.
“Alright, but we’re coming back down here,” Jeff said. “No
excuses. I’ve got you both (he looked at Sherry) for the entire
weekend. Kelly doesn’t get sent back home until Monday morning.”
Sherry smiled and showed no disappointment. I think she was
starting to like me as a real person, instead of just as someone who
could be brought into their marriage to make her husband happy, or to
satisfy some kinky longing they both felt to share themselves with a
third person.
“She can stay, dear, provided we go to the beach next weekend
and pick up a boy,” Sherry said. Jeff looked at her. I watched in
amazement as these two lovers, this husband and his wife, clashed a
little. Her eyes were dark, fiery. His were a little glazed. He was
satisfied. He’d gotten to shoot out his sperm and his fight was spent
for the moment. I had no doubt he could be a very demanding master,
insisting on his way in all things but, like most men (I guessed!) he
was so satisfied and sated right now he had no desire to argue.
“Alright,” Jeff said. His penis actually grew a little as he
said it. Did he like the idea of seeing a young man poke himself into
his wife? Did he have some deep, repressed fantasy of poking the young
man himself? I didn’t know.
We stepped up to the ladder. Jeff climbed up first. I watched
his hairy butt as he climbed. He needed to go first because neither
Sherry or I were strong enough to lift up the trap door. His balls
swung merrily as he climbed. They’d been strung up tightly to his
groin, full of passion, when we’d come down. Now they just swung
aimlessly, loose and spent. His dick was retracting. It dripped precum
down on us as he went up the ladder.
There was a slow screech of hinges as the door protested being
lifted. Jeff puffed out his breath, pushed harder, and at last got the
better of the heavy door. It fell with a bang against the floor in the
study. I could see nothing above. The sun had set. The house was
dark.
“OW!” Jeff bumped his head on the ceiling trying to find his
way out through the opening. Sherry and I giggled. We really were
prisoners down here. I hoped Jeff never had a heart attack fucking us.
We’d starve, with nothing but a half-eaten cake to feed ourselves on
until we finally expired.
I went up the ladder next. Sherry stayed below to follow me,
and help me if I needed it. I’d never climbed up before. She had Jeff
had played down here before, and knew their way back up in the dark
better than I did. Behind me, below me, the candles in the dungeon were
burning low. Jeff and Sherry’s one sop to cleaning up had been to flick
off the lights at the back of the dungeon. In a dwindling pool of
candlelight I climbed up the twelve foot ladder and, just as I had to
scoot through the trapdoor’s opening, Jeff flicked on the lights in the
study.
I poked my head up through the opening in the floor. I was
greeted by the sight of Jeff’s penis. I looked up at it with childish,
innocent eyes. He was big even when he was spent. Then, elf-like, I
ascended into his world. He took my arm and lifted me the final foot.
I landed on my feet in his study. It was as if he’d just lifted me off
of some carnival ride.
Sherry came up behind us. I turned as her head broke through
the opening and felt a strange sensation as she was greeted, looking up,
by the sight of my bare bottom. She climbed the rest of the way
herself, stood, tossed her hair back from her face.
“Well, wasn’t that fun?” Sherry smiled. She stood back from
the dungeon’s opening so Jeff could bang the door back down into place.
She bent and pulled the throw rug over it. Now it was disguised.
Nobody knew. For all the world this was just a study filled with law
books and guides to our state’s penal code. And, in the corner, I saw
Jeff had started to pick up some medical books. They seemed to be
mostly about girls; how they worked and functioned and birthed and grew
breasts and had periods. Girls and Women, their bodies, their parts,
but not, it seemed, what they thought or felt about their bodies and
parts. Just how they worked. Men see us as bodies, I guess. Bodies to
be fucked and spermed and made pregnant with their seed. It’s up to us
to figure out the rest. I drew close to Sherry and sought her hand.
She accepted it. At least we had each other. Jeff hustled us out of
his study and closed the door.
“Call Angela,” he said to Sherry.
“I will, honey,” Sherry replied. “The maid,” she said to me.
“We gave her a cell phone so she could come up and clean for us whenever
we need it.” We drifted down the hall to the kitchen and Sherry picked
up a cell phone and dialed their maid. Jeff picked up a banana. He
peeled it and squirted it with a bottle of honey. He came close to me
and put it to my lips.
“Jeff, don’t you ever think about anything else?” I asked him.
I smiled but I was a little baffled. He simply used the opportunity of
my speaking to force me to take the banana. He made me eat it all the
way down to the end. I heard Sherry talking to Angela as I was
force-fed the banana. When she hung up and turned around she saw me
with my cheeks bulging with the fruit.
“Always playing with my hubby, hmmm?” Sherry asked me
accusingly. She reached out and pinched one of my nipples.
“Owww!” I said. I was helpless between them. Jeff made her
relent and together we went to the bathroom in their master bedroom. We
showered together. There was a little intimacy, but mostly we just
wanted to get clean. Sherry had me bend over in the shower and she used
a special spray nozzle to hose out my bottom. Poor Jeff. His seed did
not breed babies in me but instead got washed down the drain.
We stepped out, toweled off. “When we’re ready to go again
I’ll have you take a pill,” Sherry said to me. “I do NOT want you
pregnant with my husband’s sperm.” She turned to Jeff. “We should have
been more careful, honey.” Then she frowned a little. She poked him in
his belly. “You wouldn’t mind getting her pregnant, would you? It
would just give you an excuse to have two wives and start a harem!”
Jeff just grinned. He was no ‘man of the 90’s.’ He was an
old-fashioned guy. Girls were put on this earth to be possessed and
fucked. Sherry put her hand between his legs and drew out her husband’s
penis. It was still long, even after he’d shot all he had into me. She
regarded it. This was the organ of the man she’d married; her organ as
much as his. Hers to put to use in making children for the two of
them. “I ought to cut this off, you naughty, lusty boy!” Sherry said
spitefully. Did she guess he might try to see me after our one weekend
together? She turned to me and slapped my tummy. “Just one weekend
together,” she warned me. “Just one. This cute little tummy of yours
is NOT going to swell up with my husband’s sperm, no matter what. I’ve
got plenty of coat hangers, honey!” Sherry said. I think she was
feeling a little frustrated because I’d gotten her husband’s all down in
the dungeon.
Jeff put a hand behind each of our necks. He reached right
through our long, thick tumbling hair and gripped us hard.
“Girls, we’re going to bed,” Jeff said. And with that he
turned us both around so we faced the door. He marched us straight into
the bedroom, our tits bouncing like melons. He made us pull back the
covers of his big bed and he put us into it.
Sherry and I each fell asleep with a new dog collar around our
neck. We were chained by our necks to the bedposts on either side of
Jeff. He owned us, we were his. He fell asleep snoring and we had to
content ourselves to liking his protection. His arms encircled us and
his cock, perhaps dreaming of us as he slept, began to grow again.
In the darkness I awoke. I had to go to the bathroom. What
could I do? Did I dare to wake Jeff? I didn’t want to pee in their
bed. I saw a shadow move past the bedroom door. Eyes peered in. I
started. My hand flew to my throat.
A voice asked, “Is anything to be cleaned in here?” It was
Angela!
“N-No,” I whispered in response. We were still squeaky clean
from our bath. We had just started playing in here.
A cloud stole back from the moon. Its light thrust into the
bedroom and all was illuminated. My figure, quite nude, lay upon the
sheets. The night had warmed. Our coverlet and sheet had been thrown
back in our sleep to keep ourselves from getting hot. Angela stared in
at me. The tips of my breasts poked skyward. My tummy was flat despite
my playing and my hips were trim, still a little childish, waiting to
fill out. My bush was newly fleeced and my legs were long, with slim
ankles. Around my neck, quite embarrassing for me at the moment, was a
dog collar, chained to a post of the bed. I put my hands to my pussy
and held myself, lest I pee on the sheets.
“Unlock... unlock me,” I whispered to Angela.
“I mustn’t,” she answered.
“I...” Could I say it to this ancient woman? She had a kind
of dignity despite her years. She looked in at me like my grandmother
might have. “I... I have to pee,” I said.
“I mustn’t,” she said again, her voice more insistent. She
turned away. I bit my lip. I felt a sudden onrushing of need. And
then, quite suddenly, it happened. I peed in the bed!
I heard Angela go out. The front door shut and she locked it.
Jeff turned, almost awoke, but fell asleep again. I think you only wake
up at night if you pee yourself. If somebody else pees, you might or
might notice it, like you don’t notice a bed wet with sweat until you
awake in the morning. Jeff began snoring again. Sherry, opposite me,
did not stir at all.
I lay there in the darkness, feeling awful. But, at last, I
rolled atop Jeff. He did not awaken. I was light. Perched safely atop
him, I at last fell asleep again.
“Who wet the bed?!” Sherry hollared. I woke. I turned my head
sleepily. I was about to admit that I had when she blamed her husband.
“Jeff, PLEASE don’t just make a mess whenever you feel like
it,” Sherry exclaimed. “I know you’re a very happy husband and I do
everything just for you, but don’t just pee without bothering to get
up!!!”
“I- gosh, did I do that?” Jeff asked himself aloud. Then he
burped. That seemed to seal his fate.
AT THE DINNER TABLE
by John Grey
here we are
in the enclosure with our fellow beasts
and feeling pretty safe
because these relationships are long tested;
mama, pass me the okra
or the Hemingway,
the one tastes green and fleshy,
the other shot himself
in the head
and my father who says that
the source of everything that provides
brings with it nostalgia
for that source,
and I add that the Arabian Oryx
is dead in the wild,
and my sister, tame as a spoon,
reaches for the glittering ice-cream
faster than her eyes fly open,
oh these relationships
have suffered under more microscopes than Plato,
but we still get away with so much,
like our hearts bouncing
to the tune of the coffee bean
or the way I sneak naked women
to the dinner table,
or the bones of Frank Lloyd Wright
dug up from Unity Chapel Cemetery;
but good to be in a cage
where no one’s peering in,
where all dreams are paired off
with their prison,
where the okra rises up in clouds
and the potato thickens so hard
the air screams land ho!
and that gravy spreads
to the edges of the plate in great oceans
and you can live easily
in this landscape
and the voices that swirl around you
are like gods
and religion sprouts in
the touch of flatware,
in the death of a bird,
the chill of ruptured milk;
and Hemingway,
called to dinner in Idaho
of all places,
and that oryx,
hearing the cry as well,
surprised to find it’s the dinner,
and lives netted by old winds,
hauled in off the common
into family
where the winds are safely dead,
elbows on tables and out of danger,
mouths telling what we did
a hundred years ago,
and food creating the roads
and the buildings
that will someday be highways
and Malls
when, at the prompting
of all that’s gone before,
our subject matter,
fearful of being chosen,
chooses us
AND IN THE END...
WALK LIKE AN EGYPTIAN
“Girls were nubile at ten, and premarital morals were free and
easy... Children of both sexes went about, till their teens, naked
except for ear-rings and necklaces; the girls, however, showed a
beseeming modesty by wearing a string of beads around the middle.
“...It was a well-organized government, with a better record of
duration than any other in history.”
- Will and Ariel Durant on Egypt. (The Story of Civilization, Volume 1,
pgs. 166, 169, and 162.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 297 EMISSION
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