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From: ROLLER666@aol.com
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 254 Cunt Castle (nnd)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 254
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Cunt Castle
Chapter Two
Skipping sex, despite the men's renewed longing for it, we got out
of the tub and Maria handed us towels. She watched as we dried each other.
The men were tall and well-haired, their cocks up and boldly displayed.
Polly seemed fascinated by the difference between drying her own little
cunny and a man's loins, he being huge and erect where she had nothing but a
little slit. We took our time, exciting each other by passing the towels
repeatedly over the sexiest areas, drying each other's loins until they were
re-wetted by their own fluids. I thought then we'd return to the bed for
sure. After all, it had fresh sheets now. Why not? I was feeling frisky.
"Men, I'm going to ask you to be on your best behavior," Rose told
Louis and Andre. Bev and Jack were holding hands, standing close by the bed.
"I see no reason why a girl can't have some fun before she's whipped. I'm
going to take Polly and Fleury dancing. Just to give them a little air."
With that Rose took Polly and I each by the hand. With newly
excited cunnies and stiff nipples we stepped from the bedroom, naked as
jaybirds. Louis and Andre and Jack and Bev, with Maria in attendance, were
left behind. I looked back, as did Polly. Bev had bright eyes. Her hands
had Jack and Andre by their cocks, with Louis extending his toward her as
well.
"I thought they weren't supposed to fuck anymore?" Polly asked in an
irked tone of voice.
"Well, honey, they're not supposed to, and I told them to be good,"
Rose replied quietly.
"Well, they look like they're GOING TO to me," Polly exclaimed.
"Let's not worry about them right now," Rose said. "I'll ask Bev to
give me a full report on their behavior later."
"Will you spank them if they're bad?" Polly inquired.
"Certainly! I told them to be good, didn't I?" Rose said.
"Ooooh, goody!" Polly exclaimed. Her legs danced as we walked,
coltish, slim and childish, long but not fully fatted yet. I was conscious
of my own legs. They were skinny like hers, but not as much. My bottom was
fuller too. Mine had a sense of womanhood about it, while hers still had
those rubbery cheeks that veer a little toward the slim side. Hers promised,
mine delivered, one might say. Rose's bottom swayed between us, round and
soft and gracious, the sort one sees on Georgia peaches in the springtime,
walking up church steps with their children, or dancing with their husbands
at evening balls. Her pubic mound was fully furred, while mine and Polly's
were fleecy and light. She projected an aura of the well-mounted woman,
unafraid of men, knowledgeable, a good wife. I was more the saucy high
school girl, unsure, willing yet unwilling. Polly seemed ever more
relentlessly wedded to childhood. I think she used it as a security blanket.
She did not have to try to cope with the world if she could pass herself off
as a baby. I at least wanted to try. I wished to look men in the eye with
the confidence Rose had. We strolled down the hall, calm in our nudity, me
copying Rose while Polly skipped alongside. We met no one. I heard sounds
behind bedroom doors that we passed. A moan, the sound of a whip? Wood
breaking? They must be starting early, Rose's guests. I did not ask about
the sounds. Polly babbled about how Louis and Andre needed to be given all
sorts of implements on their bottoms, finally concluding that a bullwhip
would be best. Rose humored her. The girl was sealing her own fate, not
theirs.
----------------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------------
We met Joanne and Sylvia, coming up the stairs. They were wet.
They had a boy with them, from the workmen's huts. They had found him, they
said, while they played outside in the rain. Rose scolded them for getting
their dresses wet. She ordered the boy back to his hut.
"Take Polly to her room," Rose said. "We're going dancing at the
cabana. You can take a quick shower in her room, then meet me downstairs."
Polly waved goodbye to me and went off with Joanne and Sylvia. The
girls did not mind losing their boyfriend. They were here to serve, and be
trained. They expected Rose to correct them. When they left the castle they
could do whatever they pleased. They had come here for something different
in this age of the liberated woman. They had come to find fulfillment in the
older ways, of servitude and obedience. Happily Polly told them of all she
expected to happen to Andre and Louis.
"And Rose will whip them, with a big, big bullwhip that will make
their balls bounce up and down!" Polly crowed. Her punishments for the men
were getting more elaborate by the minute. Joanne and Sylvia exchanged
glances. They knew Polly was sewing her own doom more than that of anyone
else, though Polly herself was oblivious. She pranced along between them,
describing in spooky terms all the things that must certainly happen to the
men if they disobeyed Rose.
Rose took me to my bedroom. Again I looked at the canopied
four-poster where she'd promised me I would taste the whip. A corporal
punishment, with no mercy, unlike any I'd ever had before. The sheets lay
waiting, fresh and crisp, to receive me.
"Oh, do it now, get it over with!" I said suddenly, turning to her.
"Not yet, dear," Rose replied. I sank to my knees and found myself
pressing my nose pleadingly into her delta. It was soft, silky, dark as the
hair on her head. She consoled my anxiety by placing a hand on the back of
my head. I stuck out my tongue, felt between her legs for her clit.
"Ah! Please!" Rose cried. I'd found her spot. I tongued it with
babyish little licks, like Polly might. She said 'please' again and I knew
not whether she wished me to continue or stop.
I clasped her womanly thighs and parted them wider. I urged my
titties between her legs. She let her knees buckle a little, clearly
enjoying my efforts. But we were going dancing, in public! We must not play
like this, making ourselves all wet.
"Enough!" Rose said. Roughly she pulled me up my my hair. She held
my blonde locks in her hands a moment, staring at me, her eyes and her cheeks
hot. At last she let go. "I want you to show off your flawless bottom once
more before it's whipped," Rose said to me.
"Will it still be flawless tomorrow?" I gulped. I felt butterflies
lift off anew in my tummy. This was getting serious.
"Not for a few days," Rose replied. "Then it should be fine again.
Unless Louis wants a replay."
"I don't want a play, let alone..."
"I know," she said, putting a finger to my lips. "Get dressed.
There are bikinis in the drawer. Just wear a bikini. Nothing else." I
walked to the dresser drawer in my room and opened it. There, arrayed before
me, were all sorts of colorful bikinis just my size. Had someone gone out
and bought them for me?
"They're beautiful," I sighed. They were skimpy too. I picked one
that had a nice full bottom to it. Rose might want me showing off my ass in
public, but I didn't. Louis' eyes were all I needed. I tried not to think
of what he might be doing right at this moment.
Rose walked over to me. She put a hand on my back and did not stop
me from slipping on the bikini with the modest panties. She helped me tie
them. To my chagrin I found the panties didn't cover all of my bottom crack.
I dared not ask to exchange them. I was lucky Rose hadn't insisted on a
thong. She rummaged through the suits and I realized there were bigger ones
intermixed with what I thought were all just for me. She found one her size
and I helped her into it.
"Armed for battle!" Rose said to me when we'd both dressed. We
looked like two girls in an underwear store, wearing just little bikinis,
mine cotton, hers leather, but they were decorated for swimming. Mine had
pretty dolphins with bulb noses swimming across it. Hers were imprinted with
eels. The fabric of both our suits was impossibly thin. My nipples stuck up
their nubs despite my bra cups. Her mound was not quite covered. It bulged
where it was covered, letting the eye see clearly that she had a nice nest.
I wondered how Polly would look. She took my arm and we marched with a
sense of gay abandon back into the hall and down the staircase at the front
of the house. I wondered if she'd made a little wet spot in her panties from
my licking.
Polly greeted us outside in a plastic swimsuit. She was
investigating a cricket, holding it in her hands and trying to figure out
what made it chirp. She showed it to us. Joanne and Sylvia loitered beside
her, mildly intrigued by the cricket. Joanne wore a bikini of felt, Sylvia's
was woolen, a matrix of interlaced little bits of yarn. She was lucky it was
dark out. I think in the daylight one might have been able to see thru the
yarn to her pubis. Polly, I thought, was lucky too. Bright sunlight would
have quickly heated up her fashionable little suit. She'd have found it
burning her like a vinyl car seat. Joanne, I suspected, wouldn't make more
than two laps in a pool in her suit. It looked like water would fray it and
make it fall apart. But a little sweat from dancing wouldn't be too bad for
it and that, I guessed, is as much water as we'd see tonight. We were
dressed for swimming but we'd just be nightclubbing in the city, along the
shore.
Rose complimented Polly for catching the cricket. Polly wanted to
bring it with her in the limo but Rose told her to let it go. She did,
calling goodbye to it as it flitted away into the night.
Chapter Three
The five of us squeezed into the back seat of the limo. I think it
made us feel more secure somehow, going off into the night, with nothing to
protect us except our faithful driver. He would shadow us, Rose said, to
keep us out of danger.
"But still, we must have our wits about us. Men will be men, you
know. Let's support each other and help each other. And we'll definitely
team up on any women who bug us."
"Yes!" we all agreed. So this would be a real nightclub, not
something specially arranged by Rose with one of her customers. It would be
just us in our teensy bikinis against all the world. I shivered at the
thought. Mine didn't even cover my bottom properly, but Rose assured me that
everyone would be really cool and as daringly dressed as I.
"The beach atmosphere is totally liberating," Rose told me. "The
cover charge where we're going is $200.00 per person, so you can rest assured
we won't be partying with mulish college boys on spring break. On the other
hand, drug lords can afford to get in sometimes, and their cronies, so don't
think you can just let your guard down completely. And women are always
bitchy." Polly nodded.
"Yes, they always take too LONG sitting on the commode!" Polly said,
brushing back her hair and sticking her nose up.
"Commode! Where did you learn that?" I asked her.
"I know big words, Furry," Polly told me, using my nickname. I
wasn't as furry as Rose, but I guess I did have more now than when I was 10.
So, furry it was, even though most men might say I needed a little more.
"How do you spell it?" I asked her.
"Commode," Polly said with an important air. "C- um, O and, M and,
uh, MODE!" Polly announced.
"Can you spell potty?" I teased.
"No, but I can SMELL potty!" Polly said, giggling, and I had to
pinch her for that. For which she started pulling my hair.
MAGAZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Club International, June 1997, $5.99. Club International, P.O. Box 133,
Mount Morris, IL 61054.
I just about dropped dead when I saw the cover of this magazine. I
mean, look at that little blonde on the left side of the cover. Ye Gods!
Who is that little angel, and what is she doing nude on the cover of a dirty
men's magazine?
All three of these girls, frankly, look like they've descended from
Heaven. I haven't been very impressed with the "Angels" from Victoria's
Secret that are currently on MTV. They look too old to be angels, unless
they're angels from a senior home. But not these girls, on the cover of Club
International! The one on the left looks 12. The one on the right, though
more mature, is still youthful looking. The brunette, in the middle, looks
like she convinced the two blondes to come visit me on earth and to leave
their wings, harps, and panties behind.
As you can imagine, this issue was all but sold out at Tower, even
though it's newly released. I was forced to settle for a banged-up copy.
Now I have these three angels hanging right next to my computer. They've
earned a special place of honor, right next to Jackeline Marie from Playboy.
(If you girls want to stop by my dumpster and autograph your photos,
I'll be happy to change my socks for you.) (And shave and put on some
underarm deodorant too.) (Plus my pants.)
I have learned something recently. Go to the bookstore. Go to the
porno rack. Look closely at the magazines that are there. Some magazines
will be present in quantity, looking all crisp and new. But, studying the
rack intently, you'll find that there are only one or two copies of some
magazines. Usually they're rather damaged.
Those are the good issues. For a long time, I did not know this.
If I saw that there were only one or two copies of a magazine, and they were
all dented up, I'd avoid them. Big mistake! The reason there's only one or
two copies left is because that particular issue is very, very popular.
I thought I was different from other males. I assumed that, as an
individual, I had tastes unique to myself. But, since becoming aware of the
'dented magazine theory' about nine months ago, I have tested it repeatedly.
What I've found is that I'm not different from other males. The
issues that are almost sold out, because those particular issues proved to be
popular, are the very issues that I find to be the best for that month.
So, what's in the June 1997 issue of Club International? Well, the
cover alone is worth the price. But, inside, there is a pictorial titled
"Kitchen Kicks." Four luscious babes undress each other in a kitchen and
make love to each other. Any time you see several attractive females engaged
in plausible, well-photographed lovemaking, you know you've got a top-selling
pictorial on your hands. It's the reason, I assume, that this magazine sold
so well.
But there's much more in this issue! "Rosie" plays around with a
bottle. "Samantha" plays with ice. And there's a very attractive
centerfold, "Tina." "Sleazy Riders" features two cute girls and a guy. And,
in a pictorial I found quite exciting, a woman and a man do it in "Bathroom
Boffers."
Sadly, the little Angel on the cover of this magazine isn't inside
the issue. Why? I have no idea. (Maybe she's too young!) Anyhow, even
though you do get sort of ripped off, since none of the girls on the cover
are in this magazine, it's still an issue worth buying.
Vogue, May, $3.00. Vogue, P.O. Box 52155, Boulder, CO 80323.
Review: This week, JonBenet Ramsey isn't on the cover of every
tabloid in America. Some tabloids have a different person on their cover
this week. Brooke Shields.
This is quite amazing. America, which claims to hate pedophiles,
replaces little JonBenet with Brooke. Who is Brooke Shields? Her greatest
claim to fame is that she played a 12-year-old prostitute in the movie Pretty
Baby.
So when America isn't obsessing over a 6-year-old model, it's
obsessing over an actress who played a pubescent prostitute. I've got to
hand it to my fellow Americans -- you claim to despise 'sexual perversion,'
but you think about it all the time! There is a maxim, you know, which is,
"You are what you read." And the late Earl Nightingale claimed that "You are
what you think about." Hence, given what America's constantly thinking
about, only one conclusion is possible: America is a nation of perverts and
pedophiles.
As an honorable and decent individual, I skipped buying any tabloids
this week. I bought Vogue. It has an adult woman on the cover. Admittedly,
she's a young adult woman. And, I admit, I bought it because she reminded me
of a 15-year-old girl I admired (when I was 14). And, yes, I did take the
magazine home and jack off to it, thinking about the 15-year-old girl. But,
still, at least I wasn't wallowing in pedophilia by buying the weekly
tabloids!
Anyway, I don't really have anything to say about this magazine.
After all, it's a ladies' magazine, for women. I just bought it to jack off
to the cover.
AND IN THE END...
Why we "need" prisons
THE ESSENCE OF AMERICA
"Most white people were not going to let blacks remain in this
country free. If the slaves are liberated, they're gonna have to be removed
outside the country. [Even Thomas] Jefferson had argued that."
- (white) author Stephen Oates, (Booknotes, C-SPAN, April 27, 1997.)
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-END OF 254 EMISSION
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