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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 282 NEW! Pussy Playland (nnd) g2
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 282
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter One
We chatted. About sex. I confessed to her that I’d had very
little of it.
“But you’re willing to try,” Tabitha suggested. That was her
name. She looked about 30 and was sleek as a model, with long tapering
legs and delicate hands and glorious, glossy long hair, but with bosoms
much bigger than any runway model. I must admit I felt a little
intimidated in her presence. I was just a schoolgirl, with my t-shirt
that said “LOSER” on it and my jeans that were torn in the knees. Even
my hair, which I’d tried extra hard to make perfect, had been caught
outside the restaurant by a big gust of wind that had left it hopelessly
tousled. Tabitha, who’d been inside waiting for me, had not met with
any unfortunate breezes.
But Tabitha assured me I looked ‘absolutely lovely,’ as she put
it. I knew I must look pretty good, because Alex didn’t hang with
uncool chicks. Just to get him, I’d had to pry away a redhead who
looked like a Penthouse Pet.
When she’d quizzed me completely on my sex experiences and
(much more to the point in my case) my unfulfilled sexual fantasies, she
took out a little form. She told me I should write my name on it and
sign it. I looked at it carefully. Mom always told me to never sign
anything. It said, “I hereby state that I am old enough to make
decisions for myself, and that I wish to be an applicant member of the
Brentwood Sex Club.” Maybe it was my own mom’s admonition about not
signing anything that got me to sign. We weren’t getting along at the
time. I was feeling rebellious and she had just joined the Mormon
Church. Not the best match for parent-teen relations. So I signed.
When I was done I wanted to rip up the application but Tabitha’s hand
stole it away from me before I’d even realized what I’d done. The
interview ended at that point. She bid me goodbye, asked if I wanted a
ride home (I declined) and then left the restaurant by way of her
Mercedes. I rode my bike home.
You might be thinking I was too young to join a sex club. But,
looking at me from a distance, you wouldn’t have known it. I stared at
myself in the mirror that night and gawked at how different I looked
from just a year earlier. My hips were still a little on the slim side
but I’d gained height and my bosoms looked like some mischievous boy had
blown them up in my sleep with a tire pump. I was a sight to behold. I
knew if I’d had fake I.D. I could have signed with Playboy tomorrow.
Not Penthouse, maybe (my boyfriend says they have older girls) but
definitely Playboy. Or that awful Hudson Hawk magazine I once found in
my boyfriend’s apartment (left, he said, by a pervert friend of his)
that features girls actually DOING IT to each other! I’d never pose for
a magazine like that.
My boyfriend said my first party at the sex club would be on
the beach, along a small private portion of the beach. He told me to
just wear my best swimsuit and (to make sure I looked really great) he
fronted me the money to go buy whatever I wanted at the bikini shop.
‘The sexier the better,’ he told me. ‘And don’t mind the cost.’ He
gave me more than plenty to buy whatever they had.
I bought a little silk number that was skimpy as sin. When I
showed up at his apartment in it he got another one of his ‘rises’ in
his pants instantly. It was tied off with bows. The bra cups were slim
triangles and the bottom portion was cut so low you could see the first
few wisps of my pussy hair curling seductively out of the top of it. In
back, it couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to be a thong or
not. The compromise kept wedging in my ass crack, which kept my hands
busier than I liked.
“You came over in THAT?” my boyfriend asked. He sounded like
my dad that I see once a year.
“Um, yeah, you said to buy a sexy one,” I told him.
“Well, don’t answer my door if somebody knocks. I’m liable to
have half the beach up here in a minute,” he told me. He lived in a
walkup apartment, on the second floor. I’d parked my bike outside,
chained it, and trotted on up the stairs without really thinking about
how I looked. I mean, I always wore bikinis, and I was getting to like
the more daring ones. This one was just a tad more daring than any of
the others, that’s all. I figured he was feeling nervous about what we
were going to do together. I know I was.
In the car driving over (he had a nice big pickup) he said,
“Don’t get attached to that swimsuit. You’re liable to lose it.” I
felt a whole swarm of butterflies rise up in my tummy when he said
that. But he assured me that he’d buy me another just like it if I
‘behaved,’ as he put it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be a brat,” I told him.
“Good,” he replied.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Probably to pull up to some
gigantic penis-shaped house with lechers leering out at me from every
window. Instead, Alex pulled up to a very modest house along the
beach. Tabitha met us at the door. She gave me an admiring look.
Then, without so much as an indiscreet word, she led us out back to her
private yard.
The party was just getting started. A big spread of food was
laid out. Fresh scalloped fish, salmon steaks, a smoked cheese ball,
some pub dip, and all kinds of veggies for people like me who liked to
graze and play vegetarian.
The yard was sheltered by a phalanx of palm trees that
surrounded all three sides of it. The beach lay just beyond, through a
small wooden gate. A hedge served to keep prying eyes away. Here and
there along the small swaths of neatly clipped grass various flowers
grew, adding their scent to the delicious aroma of the food.
The girls at the party ranged in age from a little older than
me to women in their early 30’s. Most of them had bikinis on, although
a few of the older women opted for t-shirts too, as if to separate
themselves a little from us younger girls. Tabitha had on a t-shirt but
her bosoms jiggled so freely I quickly guessed there was no bra at all
underneath.
The men were all older than me. Some were as young as Alex,
while others couldn’t be any less than 40. They all looked quite
handsome, though, with the younger ones being especially cute while the
older ones exuded a sense of reserve and power that I found a real
turn-on.
I helped myself to the food and found everyone to be very cool
and delightful. Soon I had almost forgotten that I was at a sex club
party. I chatted with different girls. Everyone welcomed me without
the slightest presumption or indifference. I actually felt more welcome
there than at my mom’s church socials, where they were always preaching
‘love and friendship.’
Then, suddenly, as I was walking casually across the grass,
with a drink in my hand, eating a slice of the cheeseball, somebody
untied my top. I almost dropped my drink as I tried to keep my bra cups
from slipping into the space between my breasts. I found myself
standing there, in front of everyone, with my bosoms showing as if I
were some Polynesian girl. Tabitha slipped up beside me. She slid her
hand up over my shoulders and behind my hair and undid the part of my
bra that was tied behind my neck. In a moment my bra had dropped to the
grass. I was truly topless, with nothing to hide my tits from all the
friendly eyes.
“You have such lovely breasts,” Tabitha said to me. Her voice
was soft but had a strange yearning in it. “Please let them be seen.”
My boyfriend came over to me and picked my bra up off the grass and
stuffed it in the pocket of his shorts.
“Alex!” I hissed. He grinned.
“Enjoy the party,” he said. Then everything went back to
normal. Except, of course, I was topless. Nobody else was. I pleaded
with Alex to give me my top back but he told me not to embarrass him.
So I was left to mingle just as I had before, but with my breasts
bouncing in front of me quite freely and nakedly. Traitorously, my
nipples stood up immediately and refused to go back down. They caught
more than a few eyes as I tried to regain my composure and let people
talk to me. The girls spoke to me just as before. They tried very hard
to be friendly and put me at ease. The men, obviously, were more
interested in my breasts than my face when I talked to them. But
everyone was very nice about it and, again, I soon found myself enjoying
their company and trying not to think about how my breasts stood out.
I was talking to a girl named Beth when Tabitha came up to her
with a can of whipped cream. I thought she was talking about Beth’s
plateful of strawberries when she asked her, “May I?” Beth nodded. She
held her plate off to one side and looked down at herself, arching out
her hips, as Tabitha neatly opened her bikini panties in front. With a
quick shake of the can, Tabitha filled the front of Beth’s panties with
the cream.
“Ooooh,” Beth shivered. I had no doubt the cream was cold.
The can had speckles of moisture on the outside of it, like a Pepsi
fresh from the fridge.
“You’re next,” Tabitha said to me. She didn’t ask my
permission. But she did slip a hand behind the small of my back and
gently ease my hips into an outthrust position. Then she moved her hand
to the front of my panties, pulled them open, and filled me up with
cream.
“There,” Tabitha said to me when she finished. Gosh, that
cream was cold! I nearly screeched and dropped a plateful of celery and
pub dip, but at the last minute I managed to control myself.
I looked at Beth as Tabitha moved away from us. “It’s cold,” I
confessed to her.
“Don’t I know,” Beth replied. She smiled at me and I couldn’t
help smiling back. A girl came up behind her and undid her top. Beth
shrugged it off and I found myself with a boob-mate. She was now as
‘bad off’ as I was.
And the rest soon followed. Tops were discarded and t-shirts
and tops came off just as readily. Amazingly, when I looked around, I
didn’t see a sagging pair of tits anywhere. They were all firm and high
and wonderfully beautiful. I felt like I was at a convention for breast
cancer prevention or something. ‘Don’t wear a bra, dear, and let them
stick out freely,’ I thought I might hear some bra-burning feminist say
to me.
Meanwhile, as if whipped cream in my panties and no bra weren’t
stimulating enough, I saw that the men were stripping off their clothes
to just their Speedos. Some guys hadn’t worn Speedos, but inexplicably
had on underpants instead. They were the fashion kind, too small to
wear for comfort. I didn’t mind. The sight was heavenly. Beth and I
forgot to eat our food and just stood and stared at them as they
stripped down to their last piece of clothing. Tabitha, ever handy with
her whipped cream, insisted on squirting the men full of cream just as
she did us ladies. The men had much less room to spare.
And so the party proceeded. Once everyone had been ‘cooled
off’ by a little cream in their shorts, the affair proceeded just as
nonchalantly as if we were still clothed in our bras. I could hear
people playing volleyball on the beach. I was thankful they couldn’t
see into our yard. Imagine seeing a yardful of people where the girls
were all topless and everyone had cream in their pants!
WHY AMERICA IS CONSERVATIVE
by holy joe
Much has been made recently of the fact that America is
conservative. Naturally, all the reasons given have been
self-interested, and wrong. Fortunately there is the Internet, and me,
to set things right. (Not that anyone will actually read my
opinion...) (The sex story, if you’re wondering, can be obtained by
moving your scroll bar in the ‘up’ direction.)
Why is America conservative? Is it because liberalism is
wrong, and conservatism is right? Far from it! The reason is entirely
demographic. Let’s look at the relevant American demographic groups:
1. Old people - Old people are, generally speaking, always
conservative. Hence the old, when they vote, or respond to a poll,
respond with conservative views.
2. The Yuppies - formerly liberals, the yuppies, like all
people, grew conservative as they began to have children and acquire
property. Hence, in middle age, the yuppies are conservative.
3. The 20-somethings - They are conservative. Why? The
previous generation, after all, (the hippies, now yuppies) were liberals
in their youth. But there’s your answer. Every group of young people
chooses to be different from the group of young people that preceded
it. Hence, since the hippies were liberals, the 20-somethings decided
(without ‘deciding,’ really), to be conservative.
In the not too distant future a group of young people will come
along that is liberal. This will no doubt be blamed on the Internet,
but it will be entirely due to demographics. Since the 20-somethings
are conservative, the next generation will be liberal. (And the one
after them, conservative.)
Note: I use ‘liberal’ to connote 1960’s liberalism, not
Clinton-style ‘liberalism’ of the 1990’s. (Which is conservative,
though not, obviously, as conservative as Republican conservatism.)
Our Conservative Planet
Why is capitalism (wrongly defined by some as ‘conservatism’),
spreading around the globe? It’s because America, finally getting it
right, has tacked to the right. And the world, following America’s
moral example, has decided to tack to the right too. Right? Wrong.
Here’s the reason:
The world was divided into the capitalist model and the
socialist model (communism, or quasi-communism). The capitalist model
is based on how people actually behave. The communist model is based on
a notion of how people OUGHT to behave. Big difference. You ought to
drive 55, but do you?
Now, you may quibble with me. You may say, especially if
you’re a college professor, “Holy joe, that’s crap, that capitalism
stuff. Capitalism is ALSO based on a notion of how people OUGHT to
behave.” Maybe so, but it is nonetheless a model that is CLOSER to how
people actually behave, if left to themselves, than communism is. For
instance, Newtonian physics is a decent way to explain the universe.
But Einstein’s Relativity is better at explaining the universe. So, if
we posit that both communism and capitalism are models based on how
people OUGHT to behave, nonetheless, capitalism is closer to how people
actually behave than communism is.
The capitalist model is closer to human nature than communism.
Hence, in the competitive, bipolar world once inhabited by both
capitalism and communism, capitalism won and communism lost. (You may,
arguing ‘containment’, argue that communism never had a chance. But,
given its gulags and poor production, I’d say it had chance enough.)
(And you may argue that Soviet-style communism wasn’t true communism,
which I would agree with, but, absent an unquenchable, permanent,
overabundance of goods in the world, it was communist enough,
Soviet-style or not.)
(Incidentally, I think communism is in our future, but only
when there is, indeed, an unquenchable, permanent, overabundance of
goods in the world.)
Hence, since communism failed (quite visibly, I might add), and
capitalism triumphed, capitalism is being adopted by the entire world.
This is not, however, because the world has decided to become
conservative. It is, rather, because people prefer higher wages, more
groceries, and subscriptions to Penthouse.
A final note: What about “stagnant wages” in the West? Simple
dimple. The world is going global. If you make shoes in North America,
for $5.00 an hour, and I make shoes in Mexico, for 50 cents a day, who
do you think a shoe manufacturer is going to employ? Me -- in Mexico.
But do you think I’ll ALWAYS make 50 cents a day? Do you think my
children are going to be happy with 50 cents a day? Of course not! In
100 years, everyone around the world will make the same wage. Computer
programmers in India will command the same salary as computer
programmers in America. And environmental regulations will be roughly
the same around the world. So, in 100 years, there will be no incentive
for a company to transfer work abroad. Hence, the phenomenon we are
currently seeing of “stagnant wages” will disappear. “Stagnant wages”
are not a curse of capitalism. They are, rather, simply a ‘growing
pain’ of globalization. (Sort of like a kid having teeth. They hurt
coming in, but once they come in, they don’t hurt anymore.)
Well, there you have it. America is conservative because of
demographics, not because of the inherent superiority of conservatism
over liberalism. And the world is capitalist not because it’s choosing
conservatism, but because it’s choosing capitalism, and capitalism is
inherently superior to communism.
AND IN THE END...
SAINT DWORKIN
“All of my colleagues who fight against pornography with me
know that I prostituted. I know about the lives of women in pornography
because I lived pornography. So have many feminists who fight
pornography.”
- Andrea Dworkin, feminist, writer, anti-pornographer and (incidentally)
ex-prostitute.
(- Next: Al Capone and the mafia campaign against playing cards! -
h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 282 EMISSION
- Dworkin: C-SPAN 2, About Books, August 3, 1997 (Reading from her new
book, Life and Death).
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