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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 299 Pussy Playland (nnd) g2
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 299
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Four
“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.”
“Jeff, there’s no chairs, no knives, no forks, no plates...”
Sherry said.
“Young wives, and wives to be (he looked at me) shouldn’t have
any problem eating without being messy. What do you girls do all day if
not practise being neat? Get going, girls. This is our wedding cake
and you’re BOTH going to be my wives!” Sherry spun round, stared at
him. “Wives for the weekend, that is,” he assured her.
“Jeffrey you’re lucky you DON’T have a knife down here,” Sherry
admonished, regarding her husband’s dick.
“For the weekend!” he protested. He seemed taken aback that
he’d angered her. Then he swung his switch and sliced it menacingly
through the air. It made a whistling sound. It came very close to
Sherry and I.
“Make your mouths busy, wives!” Jeff said. And Sherry and I,
dressed in our little corsets that constricted our tummies, with our
long stockings on that decorated our legs, our wrists awkwardly cuffed,
went dashing over to the cake and began eating it as best as we could.
Our heads bobbed as we pressed our faces into the frosting, trying not
to be messy. I was aware of icing in my long, lovely blonde hair and
knew at once I’d fail Jeff’s rules. His crop, ever more menacingly,
tasted the air just inches from my behind.
I bit into the cake. I tried not to scrape my bosoms against
the side of it but I felt my nipples graze the frosting. I tried
licking just the surface, holding my bosoms back.
Jeff’s switch stung my heinie. “Yeeeouch!” I cried and stood
bolt upright. The worst of it was that I couldn’t reach back and cover
myself. I was forced to wiggle my bare bottom in front of him, my hands
cuffed in front of me. The pain flared along the single line he’d
impressed, then subsided gradually. Sherry laughed at me. I looked
foolish.
“You must eat out the dildoes from the center of the cake,”
Jeff told me. “Don’t be a slacker. Don’t make my wife do all the
work. Your dildo is in there just as hers is. You can’t get at it by
simply licking the icing.”
“Well, I’m not real eager to get mine out of the cake,” I
said. My eyes were anguished from the searing sting he’d given me
across my fanny.
“You’ll be eager if I tell you you’ve got ten minutes to eat
your way down to it or get a fierce whipping over the trestle,” Jeff
replied. “And one more thing. Don’t cup your hands to your breasts.
This is a wedding cake. You’re eating out your wedding dildoes. Make
your pussies wet by massaging your clits while you eat. Hurry, girls!
I won’t wait past ten minutes!” He slashed the whip at us, barely
missing both our tushies. Sherry and I bolted forward, pressed our
cheeks down into the cake. “Remember, neatness counts!” Jeff reminded
us. “Messy brides deserve messy bottoms!”
“Oh, this is awful!” Sherry confessed. She lifted her face and
I saw tears welling in her eyes. Her cheeks were decorated with cake
crumbs. Her lips were ridged with white frosting. There was frosting
on her nose, and I looked no better. Freely we fingered our slits,
knowing Jeff was watching and judging our every move. I wiggled my
fanny from the stinging I still felt from his remorseless switch. He
was swinging it most deliberately and impatiently behind us, each swish
now almost grazing our fannies. We had to be constantly watchful of
him. One mis-step backward and we were sure to find ourselves howling
at the tops of our lungs. “Jeff, I can’t eat this much cake!” Sherry
cried.
“Spit it on the floor if you like,” Jeff said. “Just keep
burrowing your way down toward those dildoes. Eight minutes, girls!”
Sherry sobbed and bit more deeply into our wedding cake. I let my
breasts smoosh into the side of the cake and hoped Jeff didn’t punish me
then and there for being so messy. From the corner of my eye I could
see Sherry smiling a little, to herself, despite her tears. The
awfulness of our plight had a certain allure. Jeff was so hard, and so
close, and so dominant and powerful. If only he would put down that
switch, I think we both could have borne our cuffs and even the
messiness of the cake quite happily. But he wanted more, more than we
could handle, as men often did. Sherry and I kept at our task, licking
and biting our way down into the cake.
Suddenly I bit and found my teeth clamping on hard rubber. I’d
found my phallus! A shock ran down my spine and I felt again the pain
of Jeff violating my bottom the night before. I licked the tip. Yes,
it tasted of rubber. I looked down inside the half-eaten cake. The
nose of a huge penis stared up at me, like some missile in its silo,
waiting to destroy us all.
Sherry found her phallus. Together we worked, still frigging
our slits, letting our breasts mush into the cake, digging out our
phalluses with our teeth and tongues.
“Such messy little girls,” Jeff told us when, finally, we
presented ourselves to him, holding the phallus each of us had dug out
between our teeth. We were like dogs with lost bones. Standing before
him, each of us holding a huge penis in our mouth, we were still
required to rub our pussies. He gazed at our cake-crumbed faces and the
frosting on our noses, our eyelashes, and in our hair. We had frosting
on our bosoms and our bellies. I even had some in my pubic hair.
“Well girls,” Jeff said. “It seems you’ve found something to
play with in our cake. Sherry, bend over and grab the side of this
chair. I want to see Kelly fuck you. Not with your hands holding the
dildo, Kelly,” he added. “Keep the dildo between your teeth and shove
it up Sherry’s twat. You girls may need to entertain yourselves if I’m
away from home. You may as well learn how to do it now.”
Sherry tried to protest, but Jeff pushed her in front of the
chair with no seat and made her bend down over one of its arms. Still
clutching her dildo in her mouth, he made her arch up her fanny and
offer it to me. I got behind her reluctantly. I was wary of Jeff’s
switch and knew any disobedience on my part would change the game
entirely, with Sherry laughing as I received a switching from Jeff over
the trestle. It stood silently nearby, cuffs open and waiting. There
was a cushion atop it to give a girl something comfy to rest her tummy
on but, of course, with her fanny sticking out she would hardly be
thinking about her tummy!
Sherry, as mindful of Jeff as I was, rested her cheek on the
arm of the chair. She looked ridiculous with a big dildo sticking out
of her mouth! She was already playing with herself and now she spread
her cuntlips for me so I could fuck her. I had the head of my dildo in
my mouth and Jeff permitted me to stop frigging myself so I could put
the base of the dildo into my mouth instead. My fingers were slick with
my dew. I got my mouth round the base and then nosed the front of the
dildo towards Sherry’s twat.
“Shove it right in. Don’t spare her,” Jeff told me. I
certainly didn’t want to find my face pressed up into another girl’s
cunt but I didn’t mind giving her the dildo. I was worried about
myself, not her. I pushed the dildo against Sherry’s slit. I could
smell the sweet muskiness of her slit, even with my face still a foot
away. Sherry gasped, tensed. I shoved the dildo hard. I didn’t want a
switching. My hinds were lofted up at Jeff as if they were on display,
and he was swinging his switch impatiently.
The dildo breached Sherry’s cunt. She mewled, her lips round
her own dildo, gagging her. I pushed harder. She tried to get up but
Jeff cautioned her not to. Deeper within her I shoved the dildo, and
she trembled as she felt it going up her. “No,” I think I heard her
say, but there was such a fullness of rubber prick jammed in her lips
she couldn’t speak even that one word clearly. I pushed, pushed again.
“Now make it go in and out. Fuck her with it,” Jeff instructed
me. My eyes widened. I could hardly bear the lewdness of it all. I
drew back the dildo with my teeth. Sherry gasped a relieved sigh and
then tensed again, knowing I must assault her anew. In I shoved it once
more, deep, deeper, trying to shove it right up to her womb where she
hoped to make babies for Jeff.
“Augh!” Sherry cried. She dropped the dildo from her mouth.
It fell clattering into the chafing bowl beneath the chair that had no
seat.
“You’ll be punished for that,” Jeff told her. Wickedly I went
deep as I could into her, then pulled back, then forced my way up her
again. I was fucking another woman with my mouth! It was incredible,
feeling this older girl moan and buck under me, still playing with
herself, as I forcibly took her pussy. In and out I went, then more,
then faster, really giving it to her now. At the same time I fucked
myself with my fingers. Moaning, crying, we lurched at last over the
edge of orgasm, cuming almost as one, and I found myself kissing her
bottom, the dildo abandoned, stuck up her twat. Jeff slashed my bottom
for my forgetfulness. I howled, kissed Sherry’s bottom, tried to
repossess my dildo but found I was so lost in bliss I could only accept
his strokes and finger myself and kiss within Sherry’s cunny and
bottomcrack. I found her hole, I pierced it with my tongue, thinking in
my bliss I was doing her as Jeff wished.
I stood uncuffed with my hands rubbing my wounded bottom.
Sherry, her face bathed clean with a towel and her hair neatly pinned up
by Jeff, sat in the chair with no seat. Despite washing our faces for
us and pinning up Sherry’s hair, Jeff was still beastly. He intended to
fry Sherry’s bottom!
“Oh, Jeff,” Sherry begged, but a gag clung to her lips and she
could not speak. The gag distorted her words. Still wearing her little
corset, laced tight with bows and decorated with ribbons, still in her
lovely stockings, she was nonetheless fixed with her arms pinned to the
arms of the chair. Her bottom bulbed over the chafing dish. She was
quite bare there, nothing protected her fanny although great care had
been taken to bind her arms to the chair arms and her belly into her
corset. Her ankles were not only bound into her shoes but were now
pinned, like her arms, to the chair. The rest of her could move
freely. She rolled her head atop her neck, watching Jeff’s every move.
She looked down and watched him arrange the coals in the chafing dish.
He squirted them with lighter fluid. He walked to a shelf on the wall
and took down a box of matches.
“Now, little lady, you’re going to have a pair of toasted buns
for me to feast on,” Jeff grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. Sherry
let tears run down her cheeks. I stood beside her, watching nervously.
I wondered if he’d find some infraction to punish me with when he was
finished with her.
SPONSORED AT LAST!
by holy joe
Recently I was watching a T.V. show about Microsoft. I had
just arrived home from Art Class. (No nude figure drawing yet,
unfortunately...)
Anyway, in Art Class I learned an important fact. In the old
days, artists didn’t work for a living. Instead, they got some rich guy
to sponsor them. He paid all their bills. They produced “Great Art.”
That reminded me of Michael Kinsley. As you know, he was
working every day on CNN as the co-host of Crossfire. Then one day, he
quit. He went up to Redmond, Washington. Bill Gates sponsored him.
Michael now publishes Slate.
Well, I figure I’m already ahead in this ‘sponsorship’ game.
First, I don’t need to quit my job. I don’t have a job.
Second, I don’t need to go invent a magazine. I already have
one. You’re reading it.
Third, my bus pass is about to run out.
So, I need a sponsor.
Anyway, I was watching a T.V. show about Microsoft. And there
was something the narrator said which caught my interest: “Steve
Ballmer is richer than God, and Bill Gates is richer than Steve
Ballmer.”
As you know, Steve Ballmer is a nobody who happened to be with
Bill Gates when Bill Gates started Microsoft. So Bill put Steve to work
as Vice President of Microsoft. Naturally, when Microsoft grew, so did
Steve Ballmer’s bank account. So when I heard the narrator of the T.V.
show say, “Steve Ballmer is richer than God, and Bill Gates is richer
than Steve Ballmer” I thought the following: what’s the cleaning lady
worth?
It turns out the cleaning lady is actually a man. (Actually
he’s a man who likes to wear women’s dresses, but that’s another
matter.)
Me and Joe Bucket (that’s the cleaning ‘lady’) were friends
back in elementary school. Joe learned his trade there, because we
tended to get in trouble a lot. At my school, when you got in trouble,
there was no luxurious ‘study hall’ where you could study the girls
who’d gotten in trouble. Instead, you had to empty wastebaskets. In
fact, you had to empty the entire school’s wastebaskets, including the
big humungous yukkie one in the cafeteria ‘tray return’ place.
I called Joe up.
hj: Joe, what are you worth these days?
b: That depends on which way the stock market moves.
hj: Huh?
b: I have three financial analysts who say there may be a bullish
move. In that case, I could be worth six billion dollars. On the other
hand, I have two financial analysts, one of whom is out feeding my dog
Dollar right now, who believe there may be a bearward move in the
market. In that case I’d only be worth five and three-quarter billion
dollars. What’s up? (Get it?)
hj: Uh, yeah. You’re worth another quarter. Waitaminute while I put
more money in this phone.
b: Huh?
hj: Joe, buddy! I’d never call to ask for anything from you. Don’t
you worry about that. Now, how’s your friend, Bill?
b: Oh I haven’t seen that bum Clinton in three days.
hj: Not that Bill! Sheesh!
b: Although I did underwrite his entire California campaign in 1996...
hj: I mean the Big Bill. Bill Gates.
b: Ah, yes, that Bill. What do you need to know about him? Are you
considering increasing your stock holdings in Microsoft?
hj: Uh, not quite.
I explained my situation to Joe Bucket. He said he’d try to
get Bill to sponsor me. Naturally, the actual job of actually getting
Bill to sponsor me fell to someone who makes $5.25 an hour. I managed
to get him on the phone:
hj: How’d it go, friend?
Proposal Pete (pp): We’re not sure yet. I was thinking, you know, have
you ever read any of these issues you’re trying to get Bill to sponsor?
hj: Sure. I write them.
pp: ....Uh, yeah. Well, okay. Anyway, I said to my friend, Sam Spin
[names changed at the insistence of the participants]: ‘This could be a
little more difficult to sell to Bill than Slate was.’
hj: So what happened?
pp: Well, we got in front of Bill. And I said to Sam, I said, ‘When it
comes to the word FUCK, please cough very loudly.’
hj: And?
pp: He coughed very loudly.
hj: And?
pp: Bill heard the DECENCY part. He said, ‘Ah, yes, I hear that’s
popular these days.’
hj: That’s good!
pp: The DECENCY part, joe.
hj: Well, he can sponsor half my zine then.
pp: But then Bill asked, ‘Say, what’s that publication about, anyway?’
hj: What did you tell him?
pp: I had to think fast at that point. I said, ‘He writes about our
nation’s children.’
hj: Sounds good to me.
pp: That’s exactly what Bill Gates said.
hj: So, what is it? Two billion or three?
pp: Well, that would be for the accounting department to handle.
hj: Tell them to cut the check at once! My bus pass runs out tomorrow.
pp: I could give you their number...
hj: Don’t give me their number. HIRE somebody, and give him their
number. I might screw it up.
pp: Who should I hire?
hj: Um, Dick Morris! He’ll work for anybody. He even worked for the
other Bill.
pp: Yeah, I think he could probably get the money.
hj: Spare no expense! I need a bus pass tomorrow! Give him half.
What the hell? A billion for him. A billion for me.
pp: Sounds good. Do I get anything for this?
hj: You’re the Vice President. You get more as the money goes up.
pp: Okay.
AND IN THE END...
PEDOPHILIA MARCHES ON!
“Toward the End of Time, by John Updike (Knopf. $25)...
[features] some truly distasteful sexual shenanigans, including
[retiree] Turnbull’s graphic gropings of a young girl.”
- Newsweek, October 13, 1997, pg. 78.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 299 EMISSION
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