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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 279 Bush League (nnd) g2
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 279
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Five
...The men pulled down their swimtrunks. I’m sure they were
glad to be relieved of them. Their cocks sprang up like soldiers rising
to stiff attention. I wondered if they’d be able to muster such fine
erections a few hours from now. In the morning I was sure they’d find
their swimsuits in the parlor and pull them on wondering how they could
ever have found them so confining. But for now, brimming with passion,
they were eager as beavers to be rid of the infernal little suits.
Their cocks glistened with pre-cum and they wanted to stroke themselves
to relieve their passion a little but Rose forbid it. They would have
something to put their penises into soon enough. We girls untied our
tops and bottoms. We couldn’t help looking at each other and comparing
ourselves as our tits and hineys and respective bushes came into view.
“Yours is nice and thick,” Dawn said to Gwen frankly, admiring
her thatch of pussy hair.
“Thanks,” Gwen smiled. It was silly, comparing bushes, but we
did it anyway. Mine was fleecy. Polly’s was fleecier still. She would
have been hairless a year ago, too young to play with us. Now she could
proudly show off some hair at least, enough to get her invited. She
took hold of Louis and Andre’s cocks with a greedy gleam in her eyes.
“Don’t play with yourselves, men!” Polly told my boyfriend and
Andre. But they hadn’t tried to. She was simply pretending they had,
so she could hold their cocks “for safekeeping,” as she put it. They
did not mind, although I was not especially fond of seeing her lead my
boyfriend around by the penis!
“Time to play,” Rose said. Her eyes were bright. She ushered
us from the room. I was the last to leave. It was my job to keep an
eye on everyone’s bottom and make sure they did just as Rose said. As I
left the parlor I turned to see Maria entering it. How strange it
looked to see our swimsuits discarded like forgotten party souvenirs
upon the floor. She began straightening the pillows on the couches.
She picked up Gwen’s panties and laid them neatly on the couch.
I turned and gazed at the partiers. Slowly they were trooping
up the long wooden staircase that led upstairs, Rose leading the way.
Gwen, who worked as an attorney, followed behind her, her ass swinging
freely, leading Phil by the hand, for Rose had insisted as we left the
parlor that we each find a new friend to play with. I walked holding
Dawn’s hand, for she seemed a little frightened. I think she relied on
her Phil to tell her what to do and now he was gone, up ahead with a
woman older than he, while Bill walked along beside Jill, he and John
intending to fuck her together, and telling her so.
“We’ll go up to the tower,” Rose said. She led us through the
upstairs hallway to the very end of it. There, having moved crossways
through the house, not toward the back, she opened a door. We stepped
through it carefully. There were newly woven spiderwebs inside the door
and the floor changed from polished wood to hard stone. Our heels
clicked on the stone and echoed up within the tower. The men, barefoot,
found the stone floor to be cold.
Rose led us up a broad circular stairway within the tower. It
was wide, as if whole squads had once had to march up and down it to
defend the clifftop from invasion, changing shifts through the night and
into the day, never relenting in their service to their Queen. I didn’t
know much Argentinean history, but I imagined that Queen Elizabeth, or
somebody, had once relied on her soldiers to defend this corner of the
British empire, lest all be lost. And, I hoped, her soldiers had
performed as faithfully as the men amongst us now promised to perform.
With wiggling cocks and quickened breathing they guided us up the stone
stairs behind Rose. John slipped away from Jill and came back to close
the door to the tower and see that Dawn and I weren’t left behind. I
gazed at his erection.
“You’re certainly ready,” I laughed. His cock was dripping
pre-cum. He was as hard as the stone floor we were walking on.
“May I have you first?” he asked, his voice gallant.
“Alright,” I replied. “But I must see to the others first.
You’ll have to wait.”
“I don’t mind,” he replied, admiring me. I blushed. Dawn
peeked around me at his erection as he walked opposite her, his hand on
my bottom.
“He has a nice one, don’t you think?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she replied quietly, her lips seeming to catch the “yes”
even as she spoke it, as if she weren’t sure she should admit such a
thing. Holding her hand, I squeezed it to reassure her. “It’s okay,
you can look at men’s dicks here without the slightest embarrassment.
Don’t deny yourself. I intend to make sure that when they come back
downstairs they’re limp as wet washing, with every drop of their sperm
spent inside us.”
“Oh, you’re naughty to say such a thing,” Dawn replied, but she
kept peeking past me at John’s cock. He proudly displayed himself. He
was cock of our walk, at least, with the other men no less boldly
displaying themselves to the girls in front of us. We walked up the
steps without complaint. I think, given how many there were, we might
have been huffing and puffing, under normal conditions. But before we
knew it, watching each other and making our plans, we were at the top of
the tower.
“Ohh, what a view!” Gwen said. She rushed up to a window and
stood on tip-toe and looked out. We stood within a huge room, with
couches at one end and two big beds at the other. There could be no
doubt of our purpose here. Between the couches stood a coffee table
with a vase on it. Colored condoms sprouted from it, not flowers, while
a collection of squirt bottles sitting beside it, labelled ‘KY,’ waited
to be put to use. Nevertheless, despite our ardor, we ran to the
windows and gazed at the sea and the countryside below.
The windows were high and small. Perhaps maidens had been
confined here once, and their captors feared they might jump, or let
down their hair. No one could get through these little windows,
however. We had to take turns and share the view as best we could. The
shorter girls had to be lifted up by the men so they could see out. We
were all buck naked, the men’s cocks hard, our pussies hungry, but we
took a moment to gaze down at the sights below.
“This is the last usable tower,” Rose said. “The others are
propped up to keep them from falling over onto my house, but they’re
unsafe to play in. Here, thanks to some refurbishment my uncle did
years ago, we can enjoy ourselves. But first you men must try out the
bathroom,” Rose laughed. To my surprise she led them over to a small
round hole into the wall of the tower. It was waist high. It let
daylight through. A space had been carved from the wall so that a man
could stand within it and put his penis into the hole in the stone and
actually feel it make contact with the open air outside. I guessed the
stone where the compartment had been cut was no more than half an inch
thick.
“The guards got tired of trudging up and down the steps to
pee,” Rose said. “And men are not much for emptying chamberpots. So
they cut this little place from the wall, and drilled a hole through it,
so a man could relieve himself without going downstairs. Would you like
to try it, men?” she asked. We all laughed as, one by one, each of the
men went up to the hole and stuck his penis through it and peed. “Watch
out, the pigeons sometimes think they’re seeing a worm!” Rose warned.
Phil, the first to try his luck with the hole, wanted to back out when
he heard Rose’s warning, but I was quick with my crop and whacked him
hard and made him stand and pee just as she’d suggested. Each of the
other men were made to go in turn. They seemed a little nervous, a few
of them, but the pigeons, if they did see the cocks, must have felt they
were too much of a mouthful to attempt.
“I have to pee too,” Polly announced.
“You don’t have a penis,” I pointed out to her.
“But I still have to go-ooo,” she replied, and clapped her
hands to her pussy to convince me she really had to.
“As to that,” Rose said, lifting a finger and walking with
light steps to the nearest bed, “we have a chamber pot.” She drew it
out and Polly went to it and happily sat down, though she wished we
wouldn’t all look at her as she did so. We looked anyway.
“Now I CAN’T pee,” Polly complained. I touched my crop to her
back and let her know some pee better appear pretty soon or she’d find
herself bottom-up over the pot.
“I STILL can’t go,” Polly said.
“Then let me,” Gwen said. Polly stood and I drew her aside for
punishment. Gwen sat and peed despite all the eyes admiring her.
“See? It’s easy, dear,” Gwen told Polly. Polly stood beside me,
watching, a finger in her mouth and my hand planted firmly on her
bottom, pressing the crop to it, to keep her still.
“I must go too,” Jill said, and sat down next and contributed
her share to the pot. Then Rose went, and finally Dawn. The men
emptied the pot out a window afterwards. Rose took a moist cloth from a
steamer and passed it around to all the females who’d gone and they
wiped themselves with it. There was no running water up here in the
tower but, fortunately, a warmer with a bin of soft, hot wet cloths was
in a corner, run by a battery, and we could all resort to it to wipe up
when we felt the need. If we ran out of cloths Kelly, who would have to
run up and down the stairs at intervals to get us whatever we needed,
would bring more. At the moment Kelly, who would not be spared
participating in the party just like the rest of us, stood modestly to
one side. She alone still wore her clothes as a sign of her service.
They did nothing, of course, to keep her charms from falling into the
hands of the men. Already John, who’d promised to wait for me, was
palming her bottom, making her squirm a little, although she tried very
hard to be modest and maid-like.
We sat down on the couches. At Rose’s insistence we picked up
the squirt bottles of KY and vaseline and began preparing each other for
the festivities. The men were squirted first. It was amazing to watch
as the girls aimed and squirted at their cocks, often from below,
getting the vaseline all over their balls and not worrying the least
about ruining the couch. I laughed as Dawn and I both did John. Kelly,
who I made stand in front of us, I did next. I lifted up her apron and
frankly squirted vaseline all over her pussy. Then I replaced her
apron. “Go fetch a condom from the vase,” I told her. She turned,
walked a few steps, and plucked out a condom. She returned to me and I
told Dawn to put the condom on John. He laughed as she tried to fit it
to him. She admitted she’d never put a condom on a man before. Her
boyfriend had always fucked her just as he was.
“Well, we must at least attempt to be safe,” I told her. I
helped her put the condom on, our breasts jiggling as we did it, the two
of us laughing. Kelly stood watching.
“Alright, sir, you have three pussies and one dick,” I said to
John as soon as he was armed for battle. “How do you propose to satisfy
us?” I fingered my crop to let him know I would accept no excuses.
“You mean, ah, you want me to, ah, bring you all off? All
three of you?” John asked. He glanced at his wife, sitting across from
him, but she was busily putting a condom on Louis. Well, if she were
going to do my boyfriend, I was certainly going to do hers. Polly, who
still needed to be punished for not peeing when she said she must, had
been turned around by Rose and was being fitted into a bondage glove.
She stood with her legs quaking but unprotesting otherwise. Gwen,
perhaps in collusion with Rose, had knelt in front of her and clasped
her thighs. She was, very lightly, kissing Polly’s pussy. Phil, Dawn’s
boyfriend, stood beside Gwen, his penis at the height of her head. He
had just been fitted with a rubber and stood ready for battle.
Rose yanked back on the glove, tying it off to Polly’s arms.
Polly winced and let out a little yelp. The glove, hooked round her
shoulders by straps, lifted her bosoms obscenely. She had high breasts
to begin with, but with the glove on they looked like twin offerings to
the God of Love, or War, as the case might be, given she must be
punished. Her nipples, sweet and young and marvelously stiff, presented
themselves to Phil’s eyes like treats. He lifted a hand and plucked at
them. Polly whimpered and begged him to stop. Rose knotted her glove
tightly closed so that Polly’s arms were bound straight behind her,
together, unable to move. She was like a mummy now, with her bosoms
bobbing in front of her, utterly free and unprotected, and her little
pussy available for plunder by Gwen. The older woman stabbed her tongue
into Polly’s pussy and my friend let out a whine of distress and
pleasure. Oh, how I longed to play with her! But I had John to
instruct. He was randy as a stallion before a race. I flicked his
rubberized cock with my crop and watched delightedly as it sprang up and
down like a flagpole.
“Yes, all three of us, Johnnie-boy, with that big stiff cock of
yours,” I said. “Turn around, Kelly, I want you to have him first.
You’re going to have to do a lot of work tonight, serving us, and it’s
only fair you get yours now,” I told her. She eyed my crop anxiously.
“You’re not going to hit me with that if I turn around, are
you?” she asked.
“Why not?” I replied. “It’s mine. I’m sure John will fuck you
even more zestily if he sees you cry a little first. Show us your
bottom, Kelly. You didn’t feel any embarrassment waggling it about
downstairs.” I snapped my crop against her thigh to show her I meant
business. Reluctantly she turned around and I found myself staring
directly into her clenching cheeks. They were white and satiny and
unmarked.
Sorry, friend! Despite a 3-0 ruling, followed by the U.S.
Supreme Court’s 9-0 ruling, the White House plans to issue an Internet
Speech Policy early next week. (This according to Friday’s PBS program,
Washington Week in Review.)
Thanks to our many Washington contacts, FUCK DECENCY has
obtained an advance copy of Clinton’s Internet Speech Policy. (There
are also some notes intermingled with the Policy, apparently from
Clinton’s Whitewater days in Arkansas.)
Bill Clinton’s
I N T E R N E T S P E E C H P O L I C Y
and tips for
extramarital affairs
1. All persons speaking on the Internet shall not use the following
words: “and” “to” “but” “draft” “pot” “adultery”
PENALTY: $250,000 fine and two years in federal prison.
1. If you are a young, 20-year-old woman who works for me, and six
state troopers show up at your door, you MUST obey them. They are the
Law. You will accompany them to my gubernatorial suite, where you will
find me with my pants around my ankles and my penis exposed. You will
service me until I ejaculate into your mouth. Then you will leave.
Don’t call me. I’ll call you.
2. All elementary schools shall be wired to the Internet so that I can
claim that there are lots of children who have access to the Internet,
and need protection from the aforementioned words.
FUNDING: Increased Government spending, plus pressure placed on
Internet equipment providers to “give us this stuff for free or we’ll
say your company doesn’t care about children.”
2. When your wife is pregnant with your only child, tell her bluntly
that you can’t control your sexual desires and will continue to use
state troopers (at taxpayer expense) to procure 20-year-old women for
“quickies” in lavish hotel suites (paid for by the taxpayer).
FUNDING: Not needed. (That’s what taxpayers are for). The woman might
ask for money (or a raise), so send six thuggish state troopers to get
her and intimidate her. Then tell them to listen closely to what she
says when she leaves the hotel room, so anything she says can be used
against her.
3. All Internet content providers shall continue to be demonized so
that I can divert the public’s attention from my extramarital affairs.
FUNDING: Not needed. The gullible non-Internet Media will spread this
story so they don’t have to face competition from Internet content
providers.
3. Lie, lie, lie. Lie about your lies. This is very necessary when
engaging in lots of extramarital affairs whose only purpose is raw sex.
When lies don’t work, talk about protecting children.
NOTE: Make sure the women you procure use birth control.
AND IN THE END...
MORE sex stories, please!
“When adolescent narratives of desire are driven underground,
harm is done to the psyche.”
- Naomi Wolf, Promiscuities
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 279 EMISSION
- Wolf: TIME, June 30, 1997, pg. 71.
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