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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 278 Bush League (nnd) g2
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 278
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Five
Rose ushered our guests into the room. A young girl walked in,
with long flowing blonde hair that she’d decided to bind into twin
pigtails. They were tied off with ribbons. I wanted to jump up and
untie them, she had such lovely hair. Yet, with her hair caught up into
two pigtails she looked like the perfect schoolgirl. Thankfully she had
not braided them. A simple tug on her ribbons would loose them soon
enough. I would do it myself, if need be. I felt an animalistic
instinct to see her utterly unfettered, with her bikini gone and her
hair flying loose, fucking her brains out with her boyfriend. He wore
jeans and a t-shirt. Perhaps he’d been uncertain about the dress code
and decided to play it safe. His girlfriend, despite her neat pigtails,
had not been permitted a similar degree of modesty. She wore a very
slinky swimsuit that seemed made out of silk. It shimmered. I guessed
he’d bought it for her especially for our party. I wanted to tear it
off her. It sounds awful, but I think Rose’s instinct for domination
had sunk into me during my long days here at the castle.
“Silly boy, didn’t you know you were just supposed to wear a
swimsuit?” Rose asked our new male friend. She reached for his waist
and frankly undid his belt buckle.
“I...wasn’t...sure,” the male responded, his girlfriend looking
on, a finger in her mouth, speculatively. Rose undid his zipper as I
heard another car pull up. She shucked down his pants and we saw that
he wore a Speedo swimsuit under his jeans.
“There, that’s better,” Rose smiled. She helped the young man
kick off his jeans and then relished taking his shirt off him. Kelly
appeared, neat in her maid’s clothes but shocking our guests with her
toplessness and her lack of panties. She bent down, scooped the young
man’s clothes up off the rug, and left. Rose guided the two of them
over to my couch and had them sit down beside me, putting the man
closest to me.
“You have a nice swimsuit,” I told him. He was erect within
his suit and his manhood seemed about to burst through. I laid my crop
over his groin and tapped his penis with three light strokes. “Your
girlfriend must not empty you very often,” I said to him frankly. I
heard her gasp. She was young. Her belly was so young and soft that
even though when she exhaled and it bulged a little, she still looked
quite slim. I might have toyed with him more but new guests arrived,
and Rose brought them in as well. I did, however, manage to ask his
name. He was Phil, he told me, and his girlfriend was Dawn.
Our newest arrivals were a woman in her twenties and her
newlywed husband. They both wore swimsuits, although the man had put on
a t-shirt as well. Rose relieved him of it at once. The woman had
large breasts, big as Rose’s. They shared glances, admiring each other
and ‘comparing notes,’ as one might say, on whose breasts were in fact
the largest. It all happened silently. Conveniently, we learned that
the woman and her husband were named John and Jill. I knew in the melee
that would follow names might be lost, but I wanted at least to try to
memorize them.
A third couple arrived. A woman close to 30, Louis’s age, with
a man who might have been just a bit younger. Here it was the woman who
had affected a bit of modesty. She wore a dancer’s skirt over her
bikini panties, sheer but necessary in hotel lobbies and such places.
Here, though, Rose quickly divested her of it. They sat down on another
couch, and Rose sat down with them. Their names were Bill and Gwen.
“As you know, none of us will be going swimming,” Rose said.
She looked around the room to assure herself that everyone understood.
Kelly appeared and offered drinks to our newest arrivals. From her
unclothed state one could readily see that this would be no ordinary
party. “Please order as many drinks as you wish,” Rose told our
guests. “If you need to feel drunk, don’t hesitate. The drinks are on
the house.” Bill and John and Phil all found their erections becoming
an ever greater embarrassment as little Kelly served them with her young
breasts hanging free. Her bottom was a sight to behold. She walked
like a little girl who’d just discovered its allure, swinging it
merrily, feeling its nakedness wobble and clench and jiggle.
I watched as the men, taking their drinks, swallowed fitfully,
feeling their arousal seize them and make their drinking difficult. The
women sipped nervously. It was all out of their hands. None had met
before. Names were exchanged, but we all knew names were immaterial
here. I guessed Gwen’s name might be fictitious, chosen just for this
occasion. I thought of making up a name of my own but Rose introduced
me as “Fleury” before I could think one up.
“She has a crop,” Jill, the newlywed, said to Rose, indicating
me. “Are we to be punished?”
“Only if you need it,” Rose replied. “Fleury will make sure
all of us, including me, ‘party hearty,’ as they say.”
“We will need...” Gwen paused. Should she breach such a
subject so soon? No matter. It had to be done. “Lubricant,
condoms...” she let her voice trail off.
“I forgot my Pill,” Dawn, the youngest, piped up.
“I told you not to mention that,” her boyfriend Phil scolded
her.
“Well, I want you to father my child when I have a baby, not
somebody else,” Dawn answered. She reminded me a little of Polly.
“I forgot mine too,” Polly piped up. I knew she hadn’t. She
just wanted to make trouble. Rose had seen to all her needs this
morning. Rose had made Polly put on a bikini when Polly had insisted,
inexplicably, that she must have a one-piece (though Polly usually swam
naked in Rose’s pool.) I saw that Polly’s hands had crept to Louis and
Andre’s crotches and she was lightly massaging them, making their
erections even worse. The men, of course, didn’t complain.
Kelly appeared and offered Dawn a small powder-blue Pill. Dawn
gazed at it a moment, then let Kelly pop it into her mouth. Perhaps
Dawn hoped to preserve a bit of her modesty by pretending that she’d
been forced to swallow the pill. Her boyfriend lifted his drink to her
lips and, shivering visibly, her bosoms quaking like jello in her bra
cups, Polly sipped the drink and swallowed the Pill.
“As for lubricant and such, Dawn will provide those when the
party begins,” Rose said. She brushed her hair back. She liked to
wait. The breeze blew in off the ocean beyond the cliff. It was fresh,
with a tang of salt in it. The morning sun lit up the parlor. The
curtains were open, as if we had nothing to hide. “Let’s begin with a
little background first. Everyone should be aware of their partner’s
level of experience which, given we’ll all be partners before the night
is through, means we must all know about each other. Is anyone a virgin
here?” A few eyes stole to Polly, who blushed. She was young, but
hardly a virgin, and she had her hands busy fondling Louis and Andre’s
swim trunks. “Good,” Rose breathed after a moment. Kelly appeared with
a tray full of crackers topped with exotic cheeses and meats and bits of
greens. “Any anal virgins?”
Dawn blushed and, at her boyfriend’s insistence, lifting her
elbow, she raised her hand. The other women, including myself, regarded
her with a kind of pleasant disdain. Even Polly had a touch of hauteur
about her. Dawn’s blush deepened.
“Don’t worry dear, there’s nothing to be shy about,” Rose
assured Dawn. “We all were anal virgins once... even the men.” This
caused a stir. The men glanced at each other. The women giggled. Dawn
lost her blush and felt at ease.
“Now let’s tell a favorite sexual experience,” Rose suggested.
Eating our crackers, sipping wine, we went around the room, telling our
stories, our fears, our fantasies and our hopes. All the while the sun
moved slowly within the room, altering the shadows it cast. Other
guests passed quietly by, not interrupting us, but listening, perhaps,
for a moment or two, before pursuing their own private pleasures. The
castle was mostly empty today, but a few lingered, Brent and his wife,
their two young daughters, Joanne, some others. Sylvia was no longer
with us. Her master had come at last and taken her away. I missed
her. I hoped she was happy with him. She would bear his initials for
the rest of her life, the ones I’d given her, within her bottom cheeks.
I remembered my pussy and the little tattoo I bore from my dinner party
with Lady Lalique. I felt vastly experienced, yet I was only 14. If I
went to a bar they wouldn’t let me drink, and no one would let me drive,
or vote, or anything really, yet here within Rose’s private world I held
the crop this morning, and I intended to use it.
“Please don’t smack me with that unless I really need it,” Dawn
said quite seriously to me, leaning forward, her breasts full and firm
and held lightly by her nothing bra. She had been speaking, in a
high-pitched voice, about how her greatest fear was that she’d wind up
in a bondage dungeon and be made to serve all the men in it.
“I’m sure you will,” I replied. I whacked the crop against my
thigh and let out a little screech as I unintentionally hit myself to
hard! She giggled a little. Her boyfriend ran his fingers down her
spine, spiderlike, making her shiver.
“I think we’re all ready now,” Rose said. She’d wanted to feel
us out, get our inhibitions into the open and let them be released. We
were all feeling much more comfortable now. I did not mind when Phil
touched my thigh to soothe it and let his hand stray up to my pussy. I
only knew his first name, but he quickly got to know the contours of my
most intimate place. My private. Dawn watched, let out a little moan
of disappointment.
“Phil,” she whined. He took my crop from my fingers and
whacked her thigh with it. She yelped. He gave the crop back to me and
touched her welt with his fingers. Soon he’d forgotten her injury and
was exploring her pussy outside her swimsuit, even as he continued to
explore mine.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Rose suggested. “Unless anyone would like
more to eat?” We shook our heads ‘no.’ We’d had our fill of crackers
or, rather, our appetites were quite forgotten. Even Polly did not beg
for another cracker. She had stolen a finger within Louis’s and Andre’s
swimsuits, leaving the rest of her fingers outside, hoping nobody saw.
Of course, Rose saw, and she said, “There are beds and such upstairs.”
We stood up. “Please take your things off. I don’t want us
bringing any clothes into the Playroom. No one ever has violated it in
that way, and I don’t wish us to either,” Rose said.
“But the windows are open,” Jill said.
“So they are,” Rose replied. “You’ll find yourself doing a few
things you’re not used to here, dear, which is why I’ve asked Fleury to
bring along a crop.” Jill looked at me but said nothing. In the
ensuing silence everyone saw to their own undressing. I think Rose had
spiked the proceedings with a little fear and uncertainty again, which
I, at least, didn’t mind, since I had the crop.
NAKED AT THE NEWSTAND
by holy joe
HUSTLER, September 1997, $5.99. Web: http://www.hustler.com
Review: Recently, I got up from my computer. It was the
second time this year. And I made an important discovery. I am on
planet earth! I had thought, you know, with idiots like Bill and
Hillary ruinning the country, and the Supreme Court putting everyone and
their neighbor in prison (provided they’re a man), maybe I was on Pluto
or something. But no, I’m right here on good ‘ol ‘little girl earth.’
(Sure, I know, there are lots of mothers on earth. But I figure, since
each mother usually has several children, there are probably more little
girls on earth than there are mothers. So I don’t say ‘mother earth.’
I say ‘little girl earth.’ It’s more accurate. (Not that I spend lots
of time thinking about little girls or anything.)
Last year I tried going to a health club. But ever since they
let women in the club, it’s become impossible to go there. Too many
women want to have sex with me. I figure, if a woman gets within 20
feet of me, she wants to have sex. Not that I do. I mean, she’s a
woman! Usually they’re married and have several children, too. I don’t
want to get shot hanging around with some guy’s wife. (Of course, if I
was hanging around with his daughter, he’d shoot me too. I guess I’m
supposed to be a gay or something.)
Anyway, I decided to get rid of all these married women who
were trying to glom on to me. I figured I needed to make a statement to
these women. Without offending them, of course. I could just say,
“Sorry lady, I’m not interested in having sex with you.” But who knows
what might happen? In 50 years, I could be president. And then the
right-wingers would haul her out and she’d say, “holy joe said, “I’m
interested in having sex with you.” That would constitute sexual
harassment, of course, since she is on this planet, and I am on this
planet, and there is already a legally cognizable relationship between
us due to this fact. And she is, of course, trusting that I’ll do what
she wants, which means we have a trust relationship between us. So I’d
be violating a trust relationship, in which I occupy a position of
power, since men are more powerful than women. Violating a trust
relationship is a big ‘no no.’ So I don’t want to do that. It’s bad
enough with psychiatrists, lawyers, and professors all running around
violating trust relationships. God knows we don’t need me doing it too.
So anyway, not being able to say anything, you can guess what I
did. I helped myself to a big can of P.D. Wilson’s World Famous Robert
E. Lee Beans. He grows them behind his outhouse. He sent me a can,
recently. The jalapeno variety. Also, I skipped putting on my underarm
deodorant. And I got out my smelliest pair of underpants. Usually I do
my laundry once a month. Fortunately, though, I’d gotten a little lazy,
and so I had a really smelly pair of underpants that I’d worn to the
House of Strip.
Anyway, I wore these underpants. As usual, the health club was
pretty crowded. And of course all the women were there, looking for
guys like me to have sex with. So I came in and got my executive
dumbbells off the rack. (The two pounders, not the four pounders.
Those are still too heavy for me.) To save time, I did both my curls
and squats at the same time. Plus I watched the Computer Chronicles on
T.V., so I wouldn’t miss any important computer-related information
while I was away from my computer.
Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Three squats is a lot of work,
let me tell you. But I did all of them. Plus, I made three farts. The
first one was sort of a small fart, but I figured that was the ‘warning’
fart. Then, with my next squat, I made a slightly bigger fart. I
called that the ‘warm up fart.’ Finally, really sweating now from all
my exercising, I squatted and farted again.
Howard Stern, you have nothing on me. Somebody called an
ambulance. Somebody also called the police. Now I’ve found that
whenever the police are called, I somehow wind up being the one who gets
in trouble. So, being all finished with my workout anyway, I left. It
was a good workout. Not my best, though. Usually I also flush the
flusher on the toilet in the bathroom, to exercise my fingers. But I
didn’t have to pee, so I skipped that part of my workout.
Anyway, I hope my ‘fart for freedom’ worked. I haven’t been
back to the health club lately, but I’ll bet those ladies are still
remembering me. It’s okay if they think about me and have wet dreams
about me and stuff, just so they don’t interfere with my exercising by
trying to have sex with me.
Ladies, if you do want to have sex with me, take a look at the
cover of this month’s Hustler. This is what I’m looking for. You have
to stick your finger in your mouth, like this girl, and look at me like
she’s doing. I imagine she’s thinking, “Gee... sex. I wonder what that
is?” That’s what I’m looking for. (Fortunately, I found it, right here
on Hustler, so I’ll be busy for the next few months, ladies, but then
you can try it out on me the next time I show up at the health club.)
Now, you must also not be married. Some women are tricky about this, so
I figure, if you still live with your parents, and go to elementary
school, or junior high, or (maybe) high school, you’re okay for me.
(Some girls get married in high school, so I have to be a little careful
about them.) Also, you need to have tits, or at least look like you’re
on your way to growing them. (Hey, I don’t mind a little waiting. I
wait for the Playboy, Penthouse, and Hustler web pages every day.)
(Plus Bianca’s Smut Shack.) Anyway, don’t bug me while I’m lifting
weights. I’m trying to sculpt my body, so I look good for you. Then we
can do stuff together, after I finish and go home and check in on my
computer. We’ll do something fun like go look at new software at Comp
USA. Or maybe there’ll be a computer fair in town. We could learn all
about the Java extensions for Windows 95 together.
Yes, ladies, I am interested in you, even if I did pass a lot
of gas at the health club the last time I was there. I just have
certain standards that you have to meet, that’s all. Hopefully now that
I’ve published them on the Net you’ll read them and not bother me if you
don’t meet my needs. (And DO bother me if you do.)
Oh, yeah. I was going to review Hustler but since I was
jacking off as I was writing this, thinking of the sort of female I’m
interested in, I guess I’ll just skip the review. Maybe when I build up
my sperm count again I’ll try reviewing it. Check your e-mail in
another ten minutes or so.
AND IN THE END...
NO, I DON’T HAVE TO SHUT UP
“The spreading of ideas is as important, I think, for the
industrial welfare of the so-called ‘post industrial society’ as
anything else.”
- Michael Naumann, President and CEO, Henry Holt & Co. (C-SPAN, About
Books, June 8, 1997.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 278 EMISSION
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