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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 292 Pussy Playland (nnd) g2
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 292
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Three
Sherry spread out a soft towel on a work bench. The bench
looked very clean and polished but she laid out the towel anyway, to
make my bottom more comfy. Well, I’d been struck with the crop. I’m
sure I needed all the comfort I could get! Sherry told me to sit down.
When I did she knelt in front of me. She got big rubber workboots for
my feet and put them on me, putting socks on me first so the tops of the
boots wouldn’t chafe my calves. The socks stretched up to my knees.
They were nice and soft, like the towel I was sitting on. I watched
her, feeling odd with my big boots and gloves on, but only the tiniest
of bikinis. My mom was embarrassed about my breasts when I wore a
t-shirt. What would she say if she saw me in a bra the size of two
postage stamps?
When Sherry and I were both dressed in our work boots and
gloves we went out back to the garden. I sighed in appreciation as I
saw bush after bush blooming with roses. Little flowers of blue and
pink and gold ran between the bushes and the lawn, moist with the
sprinklers, was cut like a golf course green. Together Sherry and I
padded across the carpet-like lawn and began our task of cutting roses
for our party. Jeff carried a bag for us to put them in. It was clear
plastic. I looked up at their neighbors’ house. I saw a light go on in
the second floor window. Then it went off again, and I feared I knew
why.
“Keep working,” Jeff admonished me. “You’re not out here to
admire the scenery.”
“Who’s in the bedroom upstairs?” I asked.
“Just some boy who’s been saved, for the moment at least, from
going on the Internet and looking for porn,” he replied.
“Nothing beats girls in the flesh,” I gulped. But I said it so
quietly I hoped Jeff didn’t hear me. He seemed to have a thing against
backtalk. Could the boy see my bottom, where I’d already been hit? I
hoped not. Could his parents see me? I could just see the boy’s
mother, staring down at me from their second floor window, and wondering
if she should call the police. Well, I hadn’t been reported missing.
My mom was out of town. But she would know that Jeff wasn’t my dad. He
was too young. So that only left, well, a niece maybe? I don’t think
even uncles can dress their nieces in nothing bikinis and whack their
bottoms with riding crops. I glanced at Jeff but he seemed utterly
unconcerned.
“Bend over more,” Jeff told me. His voice was loud. Too
loud. “The roses along the bottom of the bush need to be trimmed,” he
said. “There’s a groundhog in the area and she’ll just come and eat
them if we don’t cut them off.”
“Jennifer! You’re supposed to be doing your homework!” I heard
a woman’s voice shout. It sounded stressed. A bedroom window next to
the first where the light had come on and gone off again came on. Then,
mysteriously, that light went out too, and did not reilluminate.
“Honey, I really do think those bikinis you bought for yourself
and our niece in France are too small,” Jeff said. “I’m going to have
to insist that you send them back.”
“Alright dear,” Sherry called out to him. We picked roses from
the lowest branches on the bushes, bending way over, showing our heinies
to whomever it was that was looking.
“I swear, I thought you were that damn groundhog,” Jeff said to
me as I bent and showed off my fanny with the mark across it. “Well, if
you girls flush it out from under one of those bushes, make sure you
scream. I don’t want to kill it so I guess this crop will have to do.
Hopefully one good whack will scare it into never coming back.”
Sherry barely suppressed a giggle. I found myself amazed at
how Jeff, even holding a riding crop and dressing us in wild bikinis,
had somehow managed to announce to the neighbors that we weren’t up to
anything bad. I glanced at his crotch. Well, that was still visible.
Shouldn’t that make everyone know right off what was up?
“I sure hate having to spend every night watching tapes on the
Holy Bible,” Jeff said. He was having a very fun time, I realized. “I
mean, we’re MARRIED, honey! Really, you church girls are no fun at
all.”
Oh well, that settled that. I hoped his neighbors were just a
little gullible. Imagine, two nearly naked girls in a back yard, one
obviously not an adult, the other barely an adult, dressed in bikinis
that would make a stripper blush and superintended by a man with a
riding crop and a hard on! I almost had to stop working, it was so
funny. But laughing might blow the whole deal. I couldn’t help
myself. Suddenly I found myself bolting upright and laughing so hard my
ribs hurt. Sherry began laughing too. We were almost hysterical.
“Stop telling jokes!” Jeff said very loudly. “You’re supposed
to be working, not fooling around! We need those flowers for church
tomorrow!”
My apologies to Ralph Reed, but that really cut me and Sherry
up. We laughed and laughed and laughed and had to make sure and turn
around and face away from their neighbor’s house because our boobs
popped right out of our tops and there was no way to get them back in or
keep them there while we were laughing. Of course, turning around did
nothing for keeping our asses modest. They jiggled freely as we laughed
ourselves silly. Our bottoms were high and tight but they had a nice
fleshiness to them, Sherry’s especially, that I know must have made Jeff
impossibly hard. Already I was getting the feeling that he was an ass
man. Well, he had no regrets looking at us! I just hoped the neighbor
boy was a tit-boy, or whatever it is boys are who don’t get turned on by
girl’s asses.
----------------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------------
When we finally had enough roses we came back inside. It was
cool inside now. The house was open and the night air had filled it.
It had been cool in the afternoon, sequestered down in the depths of the
canyon, but as night settled in the coolness took on a noticeable bite
to it. I didn’t mind. I knew my bottom would be too warm soon!
Sherry and I shed our work things in the sunroom. It was full
of dusk now. Instead of turning on a light she lit a simple candle and
we undressed by it. We kept on just our little bikinis. She had me sit
down on the bench again and she found heels for me in a closet and
strapped them on. I stood up in them. The ankle straps were very thin
and I wobbled a moment in them before I was able to gain my balance.
“Can you walk in high heels?” Sherry asked. She reached out
and took my hands to keep me from falling over.
“Yes,” I answered. As a preteen I’d practised quite a lot,
daring to dream of growing up, walking up and down the sidewalk and
swinging my bottom so all the men looked, even the fathers, when they
drove past in their cars with the little hearts on their license plates
to keep all us children safe. But I was used to wearing sneakers.
“Try walking in them. I don’t want you to break your ankle,”
Sherry said to me. I took a step, then another. My bottom rolled atop
my legs salaciously. The heels were high.
“I can do it, see?” I told her. Except for standing up I was
okay. It had just been awhile, that’s all. Playing on the beach every
day makes you forget how to be elegant.
“Alright,” Sherry answered. “Do they feel comfortable? I can
almost guarantee you they’re the one item you won’t be taking off!”
I shivered. “Yeah, as long as I can lie down most of the time
they should be okay,” I quipped.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeff said. He was having fun
watching us.
“Oh Jeff, you’re just a big rude animal,” Sherry scolded him.
“But I’ll put heels on for you sweetie, since that groundhog still
hasn’t shown up and you might decide that I’m a groundhog instead!”
“You’re looking more like one every minute,” Jeff replied
wryly.
“Thanks, honey,” Sherry said dryly. She sat down and I put on
the heels she’d chosen for herself. Hers were even more challenging
than mine. I wore four-inchers, but she was determined to party in
fives. Carefully I buckled her straps so that they would be nice and
tight and not make her trip. There were several buckles on hers and I
had to do each one. By the time I got done, I realized her feet were
practically prisoners!
Sherry stood up. “They really do lift up your bottom, don’t
they?” she asked me. To tease Jeff she turned her fanny toward him.
Hers was nice and high but, mounted on her legs with her feet strapped
into those heels, she looked absolutely heavenly! Jeff was forced to
clear his throat, looking at her. We both showed him our asses then,
and waggled them at him like whores just to tease him. He was forced to
clear his throat again and, when he had, he said in almost a pleading
voice,
“Can we please party now?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I have to go pee but Jeff won’t let me.”
“Well then we must certainly start the party,” Sherry said.
She took my hand and led me up the hall to small study. Within were all
sorts of law books, even code books describing all the penal codes and
all the penalties.
“Jeff was studying to be a lawyer, but now he’s decided to be a
doctor instead,” Sherry told me confidentially. He strode in behind us
and Sherry bent down and lifted back the end of a throw rug, exposing a
trap door. Here, in the study, the floor was made of long planks of
wood. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the trap door in the
floor. This was going to be a real dungeon! Totally private,
sound-proofed. Did I really want to go down there? Jeff bent down and
pulled up the trap door. It swung open on hinges. It looked too heavy
for either of us girls.
“Ladies first,” Jeff said generously. He pointed at the dark
hole in the floor. Sherry lit a candle. It was stuck in a silver
boat-shaped holder designed to keep her fingers from getting burned.
Carefully she walked with it over to the hole in the floor. She put a
hand on Jeff’s big shoulders and he held her gently as she found her
footing on the ladder in the hole and began her descent.
I watched Sherry go down in the hole. She seemed to shiver a
little. A cold wafting of air came up from the hole, even chillier than
the air upstairs. When her head had disappeared within the hole I
looked at Jeff.
“I don’t want to go,” I said to him. His answer was to unzip
himself. Fearfully I watched as he performed a silent strip show for
me, presenting his cock to me first and then shucking his shorts off,
lifting off his shirt to show me his bare chest, leaving only his
sneakers. “You can’t wear sneakers in bed,” I said. He was blocking
the door. What else could I say?
“There’s no bed down there,” he answered. I gulped hard and
took one last look at his riding crop, then his dick. He pointed at the
hole in the floor and I knew there was no way I could get past him to
escape from this room and this house.
“Alright,” I said. Shakily I put myself against him and I
began down the ladder. Sherry’s light could be seen down below,
lighting the way for me. Slowly I descended. His cock was in my way
and I kept bumping it as I tried to lower myself into the hole. For
once it wasn’t turning me on. I was too scared of what was going to
happen to me. But I somehow managed to get down inside the hole and
find my way down the ladder. As I alighted upon the stone floor of the
dungeon Jeff leapt down the ladder after me and closed the trap door
over his head so no one would know we were here.
ADVANCEMENT OPPORTUNITY !
by holy joe
I was walking by a church the other day. There was a bulletin
board next to the church, outside, and it had upcoming church events
listed on it. In addition there was a poster. It read, “WANTED.” I
wondered who they were after, so I read on: “WANTED, For Corrupting the
Youth.”
The poster displayed two photos. One was of Socrates. But the
other one was of me!
Actually, though, all they got right was my name, “holy joe.”
(Though some vandal had put a “k” in the “joe” part, between the “o” and
the “e”.)
That got me to thinking. I do a low-cost zine. It’s a text
only zine. How can I let you, my loyal readers, know what I look like?
Then I was standing in my bathroom, taking a pee. I looked
over at my World Wildlife Fund calendar, where I write all my important
dates. (When all the new porn is released at Tower.)
There it was, a photo of me! Right on the calendar. This time
the photo was right, but the name was wrong. Next to MY photo they had
the words, “Red-eyed tree frog.”
Anyway, that’s me, right there next to the month of August in
the World Wildlife Fund Calendar. (World Wildlife Fund 1997 Calendar,
P.O. Box 96555, Washington, D.C. 20077.)
I must admit, I didn’t always look the way I do now. But as a
volunteer for the Christian Coalition Media Watch, I’m responsible for
helping keep track of all the porn on the Net. We need exact figures
for how much kiddie porn there is, how much bestiality, how much obscene
porn, how much porn that might be obscene if we complain enough, how
much “hard-core” porn there is (obscene porn that we can’t get labelled
obscene, so we had to think up a bad-sounding name for it), and how much
“soft core” porn there is (nudie pics that we want banned, and so
thought up another bad-sounding name for).
Oh, yeah. The Christian Coalition doesn’t know “I” volunteered
for this “thankless” task. But they like me. I put in very long hours
for them.
In addition to all the photos I’ve had to rank, rate,
categorize, and distribute (to our Senators, school boards, library
boards, etc.), I’ve had to read tons and tons of sex stories.
So that’s how I came to resemble, at least superficially, the
“Red-eyed tree frog.”
Which got me to thinking. Girls, since I do look sorta like a
frog, there’s a possibility I might turn into a handsome prince if you
kiss me. It’s a remote possibility, I suppose, but think how happy and
wealthy you’d be if it’s true. And you’d be a princess, too. There is
one point to keep in mind, however. I’ve learned that you can’t use
your mouth to kiss. In the real, unedited version of the ‘frog who’s a
prince’ story, the girl has to kiss him with the lips of her pussy.
Yep. And she doesn’t kiss his head. No, no. She kisses his cock
head.
I realize this may seem a little risque. Bear with me,
however. There’s one more fact I must relate about the unedited version
of the ‘frog who’s a prince’ story. It’s sorta like ‘The Sword in the
Stone.’ Lots and lots of boys came and pulled on that sword in the
stone. But only when the RIGHT boy appeared, and pulled on it, did the
sword pop out.
It’s the same with me. Only when the RIGHT girl kisses my cock
head with her pussy lips, will I turn into a handsome prince.
So, line up girls. There’s only one way we can find out for
sure if I’m a handsome prince in disguise, or not. EVERY girl needs to
kiss my cock head with her pussy lips. I realize this may be slightly
embarrassing for you. Think of it from my end, though. Think how
exhausted I’ll be, having to make my dick available to each and every
girl on the planet. My God! Every girl will have to try out, no matter
how young. (If you’re gonna be a princess, you may as well be one as
soon as you can!)
And yes, girls will be cumming from all over the world, just to
kiss my cock. There will have to be a number dispensing machine set up
outside my dumpster. The city will probably need to build a special
place for me, so I don’t disrupt traffic. (After all, when I turn into
a prince, my city becomes a ROYAL city!) Al Gore will be calling,
making arrangements for his daughters to cum. (Don’t worry, Chelsea,
I’m not leaving you out, it’s just that ugly girls have to wait ‘til
I’ve been kissed by all the prettiest girls.) (The same goes for fat
chicks.)
Well, anyway, I’m getting all limbered up here, girls. If
you’re pretty, hurry so you don’t have to wait in line, okay? This
isn’t going to be like a concert, where you just have to wait overnight
before buying your tickets. With all the girls who will be cumming, you
don’t want to be stuck way back in the line. You could end up waiting
for weeks! Plus, there may actually be more than one special girl on
the planet. Like, what if there were actually two special girls? The
one who kissed my cock first would win. The other one would never even
get a chance!
So hurry! Don’t be left out! You could be attired in royal
splendor this evening, wearing a glittering crown, with endless streams
of courtesans. You’d be in People, you’d be in the National Enquirer,
you might even be on the cover of T.V. Guide! And I’ll bet if you
wanted Jenny McCarthy’s job at MTV, they’d kick her out and put you in
her place! (Heck! I’ll issue a Royal Decree: “Put my little princess
on ‘Singled Out!’”)
Uh, oh. I think I hear some girls approaching my dumpster
right now. (Either that, or somebody’s emptying his trash.) Gotta go,
girls! Don’t be late, okay?
AND IN THE END...
THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM !
“Then all those virgins arose... the bridegroom came; and they
that were ready went in with him... Afterward came also the other
virgins... But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you
not.”
- Jesus Christ
(Matthew 25: 7, 10-12)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 292 EMISSION
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