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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 298 Pussy Playland (nnd) g2
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What Messy Room?
FUCK YOU, MOM AND DAD
“Every child in this country is endowed by their creator with
the right to pursue happiness. That’s the base of our Declaration of
Independence. It is a God-given right.”
- Newt Gingrich,
September 30, 1997
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 298
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Four
[ Note: Chapter Four began with issue 296. The reference to
“Chapter Three” in issue 297 is erroneous. Ed. ]
“You are nothing but a big, hairy BEAST!” Sherry cried. She
pushed him away from her.
I gulped. Should I tell the truth? I felt sorry for Jeff
getting blamed for my pee.
“Anyway,” Sherry continued. “I have to go very badly myself,
Jeff. Get the key and unlock this damn dog collar you’ve got me in!”
“No,” Jeff said simply. He rose up from our bed. He was not
chained. He walked to the bathroom and was about to pee into the toilet
when, on an inspiration, he returned. “I want to watch you pee,” he
said to myself and Sherry.
“Jeff, we can pee on a tarp or something but we can’t just pee
in our bed,” Sherry replied.
“Alright, in the yard then,” Jeff said.
“In the yard?!” Sherry exclaimed.
“Yep,” Jeff answered. He unchained our chains from the
bedposts but not from us. He would use them as leashes to take us
outside. “It’s early,” Jeff said. “The people next door won’t see.
Maybe the boy, but not his parents. Let’s go.”
“What about the girl?” Sherry asked. “What about their
daughter?”
“She’s growing nice tits,” was all Jeff said in reply.
He took us outside. It had cooled again and the morning was
chilly. It looked as if it had rained during the night. The grass had
a frosting of dew on it. The bushes glistened with droplets. Sherry
and stepped barefoot onto the grass. We’d taken our heels off to get in
the shower the night before. We were utterly naked now, save for our
collars. Like cats we stole across the lawn, hoping not to wake the
neighbors. Our master, Jeff, made us walk out to the farthest bush.
There, amidst a bed of tulips, he made us squat down.
“Water the flowers,” he said simply. Sherry and I, squatting
rudely on the lawn, the tulips springing up around us, spread the lips
of our cunts with our fingers and let out our pee.
I saw a windowshade rise up on the second floor of the house
next door. “Oh, Jeff!” Sherry hissed. There were tears in her eyes.
Someone watched as she and I peed like female animals.
We stood up. Sherry tossed her hair back from her face to try
to regain her composure.
“Damn toilet. Never works when it’s supposed to,” Jeff
announced for the neighbors. He stopped in front of a tree and pissed
on it casually, deliberately, as if he’d saved up his pee just to give
this tree what it deserved. Then he took us inside.
We bathed again. Jeff permitted Sherry and I a long luxurious
bath, together, in the tub. After we were done he took a quick shower
while we dressed in clothes he’d laid out for us.
Angela came. We greeted her in tight little waist corsets.
They did nothing to hide our breasts, our pussies. They simply
constricted our tummies, perhaps so we wouldn’t conceive. A small
bib-like skirt flared at the back of our corsets. Although it hinted at
being a skirt it hid nothing. Our bare white bottoms were as impudent
as ever. Pink lines still crisscrossed them where Jeff had stung us the
night before with his whip. Sherry and I wore long thigh-high stockings
on our legs. They were white, patterned with delicate designs of lace,
sheer except where the designs were. I felt special with my legs
sheathed in these stockings. Glossy silver heels lifted my feet and
held them buckled within straps. The stockings stayed up by
themselves. They needed no garters.
“One of us peed in the bed,” Sherry told Angela. She had begun
to suspect me instead of Jeff. I was, after all, only 14. I think she
knew she’d been wrong to blame her husband; how, I don’t know. Perhaps
it was just her endless envy of me. I’d peed in their marriage bed.
The bed where she’d been taken as a new bride, I’d defiled it. Did she
harbor some evil intent toward me now? I couldn’t tell. Jeff would
protect me, I hoped.
Angela went into the bedroom and began cleaning up. Sherry and
I, gift-wrapped in our new corsets, went to the breakfast room where
Jeff was just starting to eat the oatmeal banana pancakes we’d fixed for
him. Sherry said she’d picked banana pancakes because they made a man
long and hard. We both knew that as soon as his balls were nice and
full again he’d take us downstairs to the dungeon. She wanted her turn
with him now. I would be helpmate, unless Jeff, at the last minute, as
he had the night before, decided to fuck me again.
Sherry and I sat down with Jeff and began eating our pancakes.
Jeff ate in the nude. He made no attempt to hide his nudity. I peeked
under the table and saw, to my heartbeating surprise, that the banana
pancakes were having their effect. He was big again, full and thrusty
and with his balls slowly rising up toward his groin.
“Jeff’s hard,” I said with a gasp to Sherry after I’d pulled my
head back up.
“Good,” Sherry said. “We’ll take our pills after breakfast.”
“You both still need to get spanked,” Jeff said to us.
“Jeff, that was YESTERDAY,” Sherry said in a surprised,
pleading voice. “Let’s just play downstairs, okay?”
“We’ll do as I say, nothing more, nothing less,” Jeff
answered. He looked at Sherry. “Go get the handcuffs,” he said.
“Jeff! Not while Angela’s here,” Sherry begged. But Jeff
insisted and she rose and went to their bedroom and returned with two
pair of steel cuffs. She made me put my wrists out and she locked them
on me. Then, giving me her pair, she made me lock her within her
cuffs.
We were forced to finish our breakfast wearing police
handcuffs. Mercifully, they were lined with fur, but it made it no
easier for us to eat or to do the dishes afterwards. When we let Angela
out, so she could go home again, it was with blushing faces. It was bad
enough being nude in front of her. Actually being handcuffed for an
impending punishment was even more embarrassing.
“I used to throw a bathrobe on whenever she came over,” Sherry
admitted to me after Angela left. “But Jeff made me show myself naked
to her so many times that I finally gave up.” She looked at her
husband. “But he never, NEVER made me show myself to her like this!”
“She saw us chained to the bed last night,” I told her. Sherry
looked at me. “That’s different. I was asleep. I didn’t know,” she
said.
“Girls,” Jeff intoned. He stood before us with a hard cock and
a switch in his hand. It was long, wrapped in leather and quite
flexible. Too flexible. Made to bite at the first contact with skin.
He’d let Angela see him holding it, his cock hard, demanding pleasure.
“It’s time for your correction,” he said. “Please come with me.” He
stopped, turned around. “And Sherry,” he said. “You will want to be as
obedient as you can. I have a fantasy of stopping our car outside the
Mexican squatters’ camp and taking you in to Angela and having her beat
you... Or beating you myself in front of all of them. They would enjoy
it, I think!” He laughed. Sherry screamed. And I knew that they would
enjoy it, seeing this proud, young white woman, his wife, beaten right
in front of them.
He took us into his study and lifted the trapdoor. It was
awkward climbing down with our handcuffs on. When we reached the floor
and Sherry, guided by a flashlight shone by Jeff, had lit the new tapers
placed in the wall by Angela, we saw an astonishing sight. All our
roses that we’d clipped the day before were laid neatly round a cake.
It was a big wedding cake, frosted with white frosting and bedecked with
candied flowers.
“I hope you girls have a sweet tooth,” Jeff told us. “There
are two giant dildoes buried inside that cake and you’re both going to
eat them out. He whacked his switch against the chair with no seat.
“Get busy! Use the champagne to wash the cake down. And try not to
make a mess. Messy girls will be whipped extra hard for not having
proper table manners.”
INTERVIEW WITH THE JERK-OFF
by holy joe
Recently this guy from Playboy dropped by. He said he wanted
to interview me. So, naturally, hoping to get a free visit to the
Playboy mansion, I said yes.
Int (interviewer): Why do you write sex stories?
hj (holy joe): God told me to.
Int: Huh? Why in God’s name would God want you to write sex stories?
hj: God is an 8-year-old girl. (A blonde.) She told me she was
curious about sex. Maybe I should tell you exactly what God said to me,
so you’ll better understand.
Int: Don’t count on it.
hj: Well, see, I was sitting on the toilet. It was a public toilet.
And, suddenly, after having massive diarrhea, I realized there was no
toilet paper. So I prayed to God: “God, please give me some toilet
paper,” I prayed. And I heard this voice:
God: Why in God’s name do you people bother me with little things like
toilet paper?!
hj: Yikes! God is speaking to me!
God: Would you prefer that I fart at you?
hj: Huh?
God: How much goodness are you going to do if I give you a roll of
toilet paper?
hj: Uh, a lot, God.
God: Would you buy me a lollipop?
hj: Huh?
God: Are you deaf?
hj: No, but I only have $5.99. If I buy you a lollipop, I won’t have
enough money for Hustler! (Ooops!) I mean, uh, HustlED. It’s a new
magazine for “hustled” sinners, telling them how Satan has swindled them
out of their love for the Lord.
God: Don’t try to fool me! I want a lollipop!
hj: Why in God’s name do you want a lollipop?
God: Because my dad put ours up on a big shelf, so I won’t get
cavities.
hj: I thought you WERE God!
God: You can call me that but, um, I’m actually God’s daughter.
hj: Uh, okay. I guess, since Jesus is God’s son... You can be God’s
daughter...
God: My big brother is getting himself crucified someplace.
hj: Oh. Like, where?
God: On another planet. He travels around from planet to planet and
gets himself crucified in all the various solar systems.
hj: You mean there’s extraterrestrial life?
God: Yeah, but don’t sound so excited. You’re lucky. You don’t have
to get crucified on all the different planets.
hj: So, like, is your dad home?
God: No, and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. But I’m bored.
hj: Well, I’m not! Send me some toilet paper! You may be God, but I
still need to wipe my ass.
God: Don’t use a bible. That really pisses my dad off.
hj: Don’t worry. I haven’t carried a bible in years.
God: That’s probably why you ran out of toilet paper! My dad hates
being ignored. But I’ll tell you what. If you write sex stories for me
after I help you out, I’ll give you something to wipe your ass with.
hj: Okay! Shoot!
God: Here it is!
hj: Yikes! This is the new Hustler!
God: (Laughter).
hj: This is a cruel joke. I’m supposed to wipe my ass with this
precious new issue of Hustler?
God: Yep. Have fun!
hj: But I... can’t! I mean, look at these babes!
God: Sorry, dude. But you got me instead of my dad. I like playing
pranks on people!
hj: (after wiping). Shit! I’ve got shit all over this magazine!
God: Don’t forget your promise!
hj: My...? But I got shit all over this magazine!
God: Nonetheless, you got to wipe your ass. I did my part. Now you do
yours. And buy me a lollipop too!
hj: So, anyway, I had to obey. I don’t know where God the father was,
but I found I suddenly had a close, personal relationship with his
daughter.
Int: Hmmm. You need a close, personal relationship with a
psychiatrist!
hj: Anyway, let me tell you what happened when I finished my first sex
story...
God: This is pretty good. It explains a lot of stuff. Now write
another.
hj: Another? I practically wore out my dick writing this one! And I
have hair growing on my palms now...
God: Poor man. You’re so inadequate to us women. Even to us
8-year-old women. Anyway, I didn’t say how many sex stories you had to
write, did I? Did I promise you that one would be all I needed?
hj: No...
God: Anyway, you’ll be done when I SAY you’re done. I am God, after
all.
hj: His daughter, you mean.
God: Whatever. Did you ever hear of Queen Elizabeth?
hj: Uh, I think so.
God: I’m next in line, after God’s retired. And Jesus is busy getting
himself crucified. So you better learn to like me. I’ll be running
things someday.
Int: So you had to write another sex story?
hj: I had to write more than just another one, friend. God can be very
demanding. She keeps urging me to, uh, ‘cum again,’ as she likes to
say.
Int: Do you really expect me to believe that God is a blonde,
8-year-old girl, who’s too short to get hold of lollipops, so she talks
to perverts sitting in public restrooms?
hj: You don’t have to believe. There are unbelievers everywhere. As
God herself told me, “That’s why my dad built Hell.”
Int: Yeah, right. So what would God, or rather, God’s daughter, do to
you if you refused to write any more sex stories?
hj: She told me she’d shoot a lightning bolt up my ass.
Int: Haw! Haw! Haw! You’re full of it, you fucking pervert!
Anyway, the next day I was sitting in that same public restroom
again. I made sure I brought along The Sacramento Pee, so I’d have
something to wipe my ass with. And as I sat there, reading it, waiting
‘til I was done pooping, I read an amazing article. It was about that
Interviewer guy. The headline read, ‘Man Struck by Lightning.’
It happened on the golf course. He saw a thunderstorm coming,
and decided to go into the clubhouse. Then, accidentally, he dropped
one of his golf balls. So he bent over to pick it up. But as he bent
over, a lightning bolt came shooting down from the sky. And, since he
was bending over, it shot up his ass.
(It’s terrible, I know.)
But don’t worry. I’m still here. My dick’s gotten skinnier,
since I’ve had to rub it so much, to inspire me to write these stories.
But God isn’t through with me yet. She keeps me hard at work, ‘cumming
and cumming,’ as she likes to say, in her naughty way. It’s pretty
exhausting work. But I’m a slave, I guess. In bondage to our Lord
Jesus Christ! (Or, rather, his bratty kid sister.)
Yeeeouch!
AND IN THE END...
What Homework?
FUCK SCHOOL
“Today, in all too many communities, children are trapped in
schools that ruin their lives.”
- Newt Gingrich,
September 30, 1997
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 298 EMISSION
- Gingrich: Rep. Newt Gingrich, R - Georgia, Speaker of the House,
before the National Press Club (C-SPAN 2).
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