Message-ID: <812eli$9705142326@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/812>
Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail
X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: roller66@inreach.com (Andrew Roller)
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 266 Bush League (nnd) g2
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 266
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Three
"Oh, help! I've got two big sausages after me!" Polly hollered,
her voice bubbling with joy, and her boobies, no doubt, bouncing like
frisky tennis balls on her chest. They were all naked. I was sure of it.
Polly was heedless of her mother's warnings not to run about without a
training bra on. (Or, indeed, given her size now, a real bra.) The men
ran gleefully, without supporters to protect their balls, their big cocks
erect and bouncing up and down like poles that high-jumpers extend before
themselves to jump the high jump. Except much thicker, of course. Yes,
much thicker. I longed to raise myself up and look. I was glad Andre had
recovered from his whipping between the mayfair poles, on the dias. Rose
had not hit him hard. She knew the value of a nice big pair of balls. And
Andre's were a special prize, large enough to make one think of bowling
balls, promising loads of sperm to the females whom he treasured, and who
treasured his balls.
Despite lying with my eyes closed, I could see Polly, infant-like,
running with jiggling bottom cheeks, her fleet legs unsteady, her head
turning back to see how close her beloved pursuers were. And, when the men
really put their minds to it, they would have no trouble catching her. It
would be like chasing down a giggly toddler. Just as I considered this I
heard her yell out with dismay as she found herself captured. Up they
swept her, her feet kicking, her arms struggling, hoping to break free.
Her tummy heaved and her breasts shook, their points woefully hard, for she
knew she could not be captured without punishment. Such naughty words
she'd used in teasing them! Laughingly the men carried her off, big men,
big as football linebackers, with poor Polly totally imprisoned now, held,
I think, in Louis's arms, for she had started by teasing him.
Oh, how I wanted to see Polly get her just desserts! I tried to
rouse myself but my legs were still so stiff from Louis doing me, I could
not get up. I fell asleep again. In my dreams I replaced Polly with
myself. Louis and Andre and Branson and even Lurch were all chasing me,
through the trees and round the limo. At last, to escape them, but really
to let them have me, I dove into the pool. And, of course, when I surfaced
from my dive I saw all four of them arranged around the sides of the pool,
standing like sentries, watching me. Their arms were folded and my watery
sanctuary had become my watery grave. Their cocks stood out like tree
trunks. Then, like Pinocchio's noses, their cocks began growing. As I
paddled in the pool I watched their cocks grow out, out, out, finally
looming over my head as I hunched down, hoping to avoid them. And then
Louis's cock rammed straight into my mouth. I could not stop him. He
pried my lips apart. I was forced to suck upon him. Then he flexed his
cock and I was lifted up out of the pool, struggling, trying to free my
mouth, but there was no escape for me.
"Look, I've caught a fish!" Louis crowed, and for a moment I could
not tell whether he was speaking of me, caught on the pole of his cock, or
was really speaking, outside my window, with little Polly wriggling in his
arms, hoping to escape him.
Rose appeared. I thought she was real but then realized I was in
my dream again. "Bring her to my skillet," she intoned. "I will cook her
for your supper, men." And her skillet was the dias. I was tied down to
it and my legs spread. "Yes, a most beautiful specimen of fish," Rose
said, clinically, inspecting my oyster-lipped cunt. "Most difficult to
catch, except for expert fishermen like yourselves, of course," she added,
eyeing Louis and Andre.
"Oh, it is not difficult for us," Louis said, diffidently, sitting
nude at the table in the sunroom now, tying a napkin under his chin. "We
catch a new one every day."
"Hurry up, I'm hungry," Andre urged. He banged his knife and fork
down on the table. Underneath it his big prick wriggled impatiently. Then
Polly shot past, outside, timing herself by Lurch's watch as she ran around
the castle. I followed her somehow and found that we had to stop and jump
through the hopscotch squares at the front of the castle before we could
run around it again. Our tits leapt and swung as we played hopscotch, our
scissoring legs showing off our mounds without shame. Cars appeared on the
desolate road beyond the castle and watched us through its gate with X-Ray
eyes.
"Hi," I heard. A nose nuzzled mine. Cheyenne. I blinked away my
sleep and saw her lying beside me, her face pressed close.
"Hi," I replied, smiling. We kissed. Our mouths were sweet. We
kissed again. Her hand, which had lain protectively over my waist, passed
down to my bottom and palmed it. I let her feel me. I spread my legs a
little to invite her explorations. We kissed a third time. She slipped a
finger between my legs and sought my spot. I kept my legs splayed apart
and we kissed again as she found me and delicately touched me in my special
place.
We did not hear the creeping of footsteps. Suddenly, with no
warning, our bedcovers were unfurled. We were exposed, fish gasping and
wriggling on a dock. Rose stood over us, poking her head through the
canopy of my bed. She'd unveiled our naughtiness.
"Girls!" Rose said. "Are there so few men in my castle that you
must entertain each other? All by yourselves?"
"We were just playing," Cheyenne explained. We tensed our
heinies, worried she might slap us. Instead she turned her attention to
me. She ran both her hands over my bottom, pressed them into my newly
whitened flesh.
"Good," Rose said. "You have a nice, cream-white bottom again,
Fleury. And yours is nice too, Cheyenne," she added, for my girlfriend
seemed put out that she was not included in Rose's inspection. Rose vented
my cheeks and examined my hole. "Ah, how snug and tight you are, Fleury,
despite the best efforts of some to enlarge you there. Someday we will
have to make you bigger. There is no question about that. I have a little
leather belt. It looks like an ordinary belt but there are three chains
that loop down and connect themselves under it. Sort of like panties,
except without the connecting bits of cloth. Just the skeleton, as it
were, made of small chains. And within the back chain there is a brass
ring. It fits right over the anus. I'll put you in those little panties
someday. And when you've got them on, of course, we can then begin to
widen you. There are a selection of shafts that come with the panties.
Each day we will plug a new one through the brass ring and, doing that,
send it right up your anus. You'll wear the panties all day, plugged up
your ass. You'll walk around the castle, doing what you're told, or as you
like, but of course everyone will see that you're in training, because
you'll just wear the little chain panties, and nothing else. I'll want you
to stay out of the sun since I like girl's bottoms white. Perhaps you can
drape a little towel over your tushy if you lie out in the sun. Just like
I'd expect you to do now. To keep your ass white, so when it's whipped we
can see all the stripes."
"It sounds...captivating," I answered. My speech slurred because
I was still a little sleepy, and her words had induced a kind of
prisoner-like listlessness in me. She pried my cheeks harder apart and
leaned down and let her breasts tumble out of her low cut, ruffled peasant
gown. She blew softly into my hiney hole.
"So sweet," she said, Cheyenne watching her inspection of me with
a little envy, I think, in her eyes. We both liked being the center of
attention, even if it meant showing off our fannies. Rose lifted one of
her big gourd-like breasts, heavy like a gourd but round like a grapefruit,
and kissed and licked her nipple, preparing it, but for what? Then I knew.
She let her breast drop into my bottomfurrow and she stabbed my hole with
her hard nipple.
"Oh!" I cried. I had not expected it. Fiercely she jabbed me
with her nipple but I had little trouble taking it, for it was just a
woman's nipple, nothing more.
"Ah, if only I had a cock," Rose sighed. "I would ream you to the
other end of South America and back, my dear." She stood, lifting herself
and taking her tit with her. She upped her dress and I saw she wore no
panties beneath. "But instead I'm stuck with this useless pussy. Utterly
useless for what I'd like to do with it sometimes. Look at me! Nothing,
just a mount of dark hair and my twin lips beneath, as if God felt the lips
on my face wouldn't be enough for me, and had to give me a second pair. So
I've got nothing, just a belly, two pair of lips, and my tits, of course,
sticking out when I walk down the street like balloons and making everyone
think I'm a bimbo." She sighed again. She lowered her dress and put her
breasts back inside it. She straightened it.
"Get up and get ready for dinner, girls," Rose said. "We're going
to have fun tonight! Don't wear anything. Just come as you are, but see
that your hair and your nails are perfect. Absolutely perfect." She
withdrew her head from the canopy, walked to the door. "No playing in the
tub!" she warned. "Be good girls. I'm serious. I want you both on
tenterhooks when you come downstairs, not exhausted because you've spent
the last hour frigging each other to death in the bathroom."
"Yes, ma'am," Cheyenne and I answered. Our voices were musical.
We sounded like small girls at a slumber party, waiting for mom to leave so
we could discuss the finer aspects of boys.
We came downstairs an hour later. Rose led us into the ballroom,
a room we'd not dined in before. It was huge and had chandeliers in it,
six in all, built of crystal and hanging from the ceiling, sprinkling their
light down on us. I saw a score of people, men and women, elegantly
dressed, but Cheyenne and I, like singing telegram girls, were quite nude,
except that I'd tied ribbons in my hair and so had she, to make ourselves
extra pretty.
Polly was there. Rose had turned her so that her bottom stuck out
and she was leaning forward over a table. Rose beckoned us. To my
surprise I saw Polly's bottom was white. Whatever Louis and Andre had done
to her, they had not whipped her. The day, I realized, had been cloudy.
She had been able to run around naked and yet keep her bottom preserved in
the state Rose preferred it in. Polly was festooned with ribbons like
Cheyenne and I. In addition to decorating her hair they were tied round
her upper arms, and again round her thighs, mid-way, tied off in little
bows with streamers dangling down to her elbows and knees. She was
exceptionally delightful to look at. Rose told me that Polly was to be
served for dessert. Indeed, all three of us were, and we were to decorate
ourselves for the crowd, as they watched. They had already begun their
meal. I wondered when Polly and Cheyenne and I would eat but I did not
ask.
Rose handed me a cannister of whipped cream. "Decorate Polly,
would you, Fleury? Be still, Polly. It is only whipped cream." Polly
looked over her shoulder, like a child ignorant but wanting to know, and
not sure it liked the answer. Gracefully I took the whipped cream. I
wanted to appear as ladylike as I could, despite my nudity. I aimed the
cannister carefully and, at Rose's direction, I carefully shot a line of
whipped cream down Polly's ass crack. "Don't wiggle, Polly, I want the
line to be perfect," Rose scolded. Polly moved her hips once but I
anticipated her movement and was able to keep my line of cream straight.
As I squirted Polly's asscrack, Bambi, who wore a tight corset,
met Cheyenne and drew her aside. "More guests will be coming soon. You
must serve them their appetizer," Bambi told her. I could not study Bambi,
but I caught a glimpse of her and saw that she wore a corset that plumped
up her breasts and left them free, despite its tightness around her middle.
Atop the mounds of her nude breasts her skin was all wet and there were
bits of stray fruit lying atop them. I realized, somehow, that Bambi had
used her own bosoms as a serving tray. She'd placed (or perhaps Rose had
done it) bits of fruit atop her uplifted breasts. Then she'd gone from
guest to guest and served them this way, offering them her breasts, atop
which was the fruit which they were invited to pluck from her with just
their mouths. Now it was Cheyenne's turn, and she shivered a little as
Bambi suited her up. Polly, meanwhile, was to be the official dessert.
She would be made modest, perversely, by having whipped cream squirted over
all her private places. Then she would be served this way, and the guests
would lick her clean, making her immodest again, and titillating her and
themselves in the process. I realized all this in a rush, squirting the
whipped cream carefully down the indrawn line of Polly's bottom crack.
Rose turned Polly around. The girl looked down at herself as Rose
forced her to jut her hips out at me. Her little cunt made a perfect
target.
"Ooooh, Polly, how indecent you are! Let me cover you up a
little," I offered.
"Noooo," Polly whined, but I squirted her nonetheless. Icing-like
the whipped cream spritzed into the hairs of her pubic mound. Then,
coating her thoroughly there, I moved down, parted her legs and squirted
her cunny lips and then continued my line back until it met up with the
line of cream I'd drawn down her buttcrack. I did not bother to give her
cream bikini drawstrings.
"Now for your nipples," I said. I stood and placed the nozzle of
the whipped cream close to her nearest tit. She was trembling. I had to
cup her breast from beneath to hold her wobbling tittie. Then I squirted
her nipple, as she gritted her teeth against the cold of the refrigerated
cream and begged me to stop.
Next I did Polly's other nipple. I did not bother to give her bra
cups, just the nipples was enough. No decorative drawstring either. But,
raising my can, I traced a little cream collar round the front of her
throat. Just above her real collar. It looked nice. She looked sweet. I
kissed her blushing cheeks and told her so.
"Oh, can I wipe it off now?" Polly asked, stroking her tummy and
threatening to dip it into the cream that decorated her pubis.
"Why Polly, we just got you properly dressed for the party and you
want to get naked already?" Rose teased. "Be a good girl and go show off
your cream bikini to the guests. I wonder if you'd be allowed on a beach
now, since we can't see your privates anymore? Of course, you mustn't get
your bikini wet. That would truly be a no-no," Rose laughed. She was
clothed in a beautiful red gown that moulded itself to her figure like a
glove. It was cut off at the knees, seductively showing her calves, I
thought. In front her gown dipped so low her nipples showed. Just the top
halves, the pronging tips barely below the hem. It constricted her breasts
a little so that her nipples' tips would stay concealed. But I knew if she
moved incautiously she'd find herself displaying her teats right out to the
tips.
Bambi was inventive. Having tied up Cheyenne in a breathlessly
tight corset, she made the girl perch her bare ass on a table and she
fitted the girl into ankle-high boots. Then, finishing that, she did not
release her. Instead she made her stand and then bent her over. Cheyenne
grimaced as the tautly-laced corset creaked and bit into her already trim
waistline, compressing her slim tummy even more. When Cheyenne was bent
double, her fingers brushing her toes, Bambi parted her legs, giving her a
wider stance. Cheyenne looked ready to keel over and Rose rushed to hold
her. She cupped her hands beneath the girl's face and stroked her hair.
She watched with approval as Bambi took an oil funnel, the same type used
in gas stations, but brand new and clean, and poked it into Cheyenne's
tight bottom.
"You must experience submission, Cheyenne," Rose said softly to
the girl, in a reassuring voice, letting her know she approved of all the
new tricks Bambi was thinking up. Rose tossed her hair back over her
shoulder, carelessly, and one of her hemmed in nipples managed to break
free of her low cut bodice. Cheyenne, meanwhile, had no such protection
for her breasts. The corset stopped short of containing them and merely
pushed them upward, so that they could be used as wiggling nude platforms
for fruit.
Polly stood beside me, a hand on my shoulder, a finger in her
mouth. She sucked on it speculatively, watching, as I did, as Bambi took a
small bottle of liquor and popped its cork. Carefully Bambi took hold of
the oil funnel which, in the interim, Rose had been holding in place. Its
neck was most indelicately stuck within Cheyenne's butthole. The girl
shivered, waiting, first while the cork on the liquor was popped and then
as Bambi took back possession of the funnel. Now all of us watched as
Bambi slowly began pouring the liquor into Cheyenne's ass.
THE IDIOT REVEALED!
by Detective Joe
I have found out who the primary idiot is who has been fucking
with me. It is: bow@hatchet.net (Tomahawk)
You can see for yourself what I have found. (Use this method if
someone fucks with you):
1. Type this into your web browser: http://www.excite.com/
2. Hit the "return" or "enter" key on your keyboard.
3. A web page appears. (http://www.excite.com/) You will see a button
marked "newsgroups" on this web page. Click on it.
4. Next, you will see a search field. Click in it, so that a cursor appears
in it. Now, type my old e-mail address into the search field. Type:
"roller666@aol.com" (Don't include the quote marks.)
5. Click on the button marked "search"
6. Voila! Up comes a total of about 2,000 messages. The first 20 or so
will appear on your screen. These are the ones you will be most interested
in. Here, you can click on the various messages and see for yourself all
the bullshit that bow@hatchet.net (Tomahawk) and several other users posted
in various newsgroups about me.
AND IN THE END...
"Normal" men get their reward
"Men, for better or for worse, have surrendered their advantage,
and for the next millenium or two, will probably be forced to wear lacy
little dresses."
- SPY magazine, May/June 1997, pg. 49.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller66@inreach.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
-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 266 EMISSION
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /