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From: Andrew Roller <roller66@inreach.com>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 270 Bush League (nnd) g2
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 270
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Three
A young woman walked into the parlor. It was the neatly
dressed maid who’d attended to Polly and I on our first night. She had
on her traditional maid’s costume, complete with its perky white hat and
apron, plus a skirt made of black cloth that was shorter than any maid
might wear in ordinary employment, but not so short as to show anything
if she was careful not to bend over.
“Kelly, take these two to the nursery,” Rose told her. She
pointed at the two kindergarten girls. “They’re frisky. Best to put
both of the them naked in the baby pool and give them some toys. Is
little Johnnie about?”
“Yes’m, he’s been showing me his cock repeatedly this morning
and I don’t know what to do!” Maria said. There was a look of
exasperation in her voice.
“Well, he can go swimming with these two,” Rose said. “They’re
all the same age. There should be no harm in it.” She turned and
cocked an eyebrow at the girls’ mother. She nodded, just a small nod,
but enough to show her approval.
“I played with boys when I was their age. It was... fun,” the
girls’ mother said. “No fucking, of course.”
“Of course not,” Rose answered. “I’ll make sure no perverts
barge into their nursery. And Kelly,” she turned her head. “Make sure
Johnnie doesn’t get out of hand.”
“Yes’m. I don’t think he knows of such things, actually,” she
replied. “He seems not to know yet that he can diddle himself.
“Right. Well, these two will teach him that, I’m sure,” Rose
replied.
Kelly beckoned to the two girls and they leapt from the chair
they were sharing. They were eager to get out of the stuffy parlor.
Their mother lifted a hand to call them to kiss her goodbye. Rose
caught her hand, held it. She shook her head ‘no.’ The girls raced
from the room and Kelly had to run to catch them. Her dress flipped up
in back and I saw the girls’ father gaze with interest at her pantied
rear.
“Well, let’s get started then,” Rose said to the girls’ mother
as soon as they’d left. “Stand up and take off your clothes.”
“My..?” the young mother protested.
“Show me everything you’ve got, darling. Don’t be ashamed of
yourself. You look to me like you’ve got a great body! I’ll need to
see your cunt to see what birthing those two darling girls has done to
your sex. And your breasts, too, to see what effect nursing has had.
Precious little, I’ll bet. I think most of your inhibitions are just in
your mind. But don’t worry, dear, we’ll rid you of those here at Cunt
Castle!” She smiled as she spoke the name of the place. I felt my tummy
tighten and, looking at the mother, I know hers did. What an awful
name! Yet the mother, with her husband prodding her, stood up. She
fiddled with the buttons on her blouse.
“We’ll take her right upstairs and give her a good caning to
get her nice and weepy,” Rose told the young mother’s husband. “Yes,
dear, everything. Take your clothes right off. You’ll be crying and
moaning and showing us how nicely your ass wiggles in a few minutes.
Don’t be shy. There’s no point to it. Here at Cunt Castle all must be
seen, and continuously too. You won’t have need of any clothes for days
to come!”
“Oh, I don’t want to,” the mother whined. Her knees bent and
her legs seemed about to collapse underneath her. Yet, somehow, she
kept her fingers working, and I watched as the buttons of her blouse
opened, showing her belly and her curves.
Louis and Andre stared past us. I think they were fascinated
by the sight of this young mother shedding her purity and agreeing to be
broken in at the castle. Her husband developed a pronounced tent in his
pants. Polly and Cheyenne and I, not able to sit, stood and watched as
the mother undressed herself. Her blouse fell away. She reached behind
herself and unzipped her dress.
“Oh, what is happening?” I heard a youthful voice cry. My head
snapped toward the doorway. It was one of the twins! Kelly appeared
and scooped her up.
“But what is mommie doing?” the girl asked.
“She’s undressing, dear,” Kelly answered. She sounded
distressed.
“But this isn’t our house,” the little one persisted. I heard
no more. Her mother, blushing, continued removing her clothes. She
reached back and unhooked her bra. It popped open. She shed it. Her
tits proved large and firm. Nursing had not harmed them. I was glad.
I wanted babies too, but I didn’t want to lose my figure.
The young wife slid off her panties.
“Mmm, a nice bush,” Rose said. She lifted a hand and plucked
at it with her fingers. “Turn around, dear. Show me your ass.” The
young mother gulped and turned on her feet. Behind her the plump
fullness of her ass spread out before Rose’s gaze. Motherhood had
broadened her seat and given it a mature look. It was quite different
from Polly’s slim little ass, which still resembled the twins’.
“Oh, I should like to go swimming in a baby pool too,” Polly
sighed.
“There is a nursery for big girls up in the attic,” Rose said,
turning to Louis and Andre. “Please take your young women up there.”
But Louis ignored Rose. “Sir,” he said, speaking to the twins’
father. “If I may, I would love to fuck your wife for you.”
“Oh, Brent! You would NEVER!” the young mother blurted. She
turned to her husband.
“It would be a waste of opportunities if he didn’t,” Rose
suggested to the father.
“Could I ask for a trade?” the father, Brent, replied to my
Louis.
“Which do you prefer?” Louis asked. He passed his hand in a
sweeping gesture along the level of our bottoms. We stood like children
before Brent, although across the room from him.
“I’d like all three,” Brent answered. “My wife’s worth it.”
“Sounds okay,” Andre nodded to Louis. “We could both do her.”
“Louis!” I cried. I turned and looked at my lover. Would he
give me away so easily to a man we didn’t even know?
“Agreed,” Louis said. He stood. He and Andre and Brent all
got up and shook hands on the matter.
“I’ll have you fitted into your butt belt later,” Rose reminded
me. Was I still to be widened for Louis even though he gave me away so
cavalierly? I didn’t like that.
“Good morning girls,” Brent said. He came up to us and eyed us
like a farmer at an auction of domesticated animals. He was tall and
good-looking. But still, he was older than Louis, and did not have
Louis’ broad build. “Let’s go up to the attic,” he said. He gestured
for us to lead the way to the door. Louis and Andre, meanwhile, made
the acquaintance of Brent’s wife. She was as nude as ourselves now, and
I guessed we’d all be feeling like tarts before the day was over.
To get to the attic we found we had to climb up a ladder. To
my dismay, Brent stood below and watched as, one by one, Polly and
Cheyenne and I climbed up. Our tushies, still red from our spankings
the day before, shimmied as we climbed. There was nothing we could do
to keep him from staring at the full glory of our fannys, right into our
clenching cracks, showing our bottomholes as we lifted our legs up to
the next rung. They were widely spaced, as if to force us to show
ourselves more freely. Of course our cunts were completely at the mercy
of his prying eyes. I tried to cover myself with my hand but sighed
aloud as I realized climbing a ladder one-handed, especially one with
such widely spaced rungs, just wasn’t safe.
Polly went up first. Brent watched her with a father’s
attentive eye, as if afraid she might fall. Next Cheyenne went, and
finally myself. There was a trap door at the top but Polly managed to
lift it to let us through.
“Oh, swings!” I heard Polly exclaim. By the time I got up I
found she’d gone to a small swingset in the attic and was pushing at a
swing with her hands. It was an infant swing. It had a full seat,
rising right up to the waist, a kind of bucket, actually, but with leg
holes for the passenger’s legs to stick through. And there was a third
hole, between the twin leg holes, for something...
Stepping closer, I saw the third hole between the leg holes
wasn’t the only addition to the attic’s infant swings. Down below,
where our seats might sit, there was a hole through which some object
might be pushed into the fanny.
“Would you like to swing?” Brent asked Polly.
“Oh yes, please!” Polly exclaimed. “I like swinging.”
“Polly,” I cautioned. I felt I should warn her about the extra
holes. But before I could, Brent had lifted her up, just like one might
lift up a baby. Polly’s legs wiggled as he slotted her into the seat
and fitted her legs through the swing’s leg holes.
“Wheee!” Polly shouted. Brent got behind her and began pushing
her in the swing.
“Oh, I’ll do it!” Cheyenne offered. She seemed happy about the
swing, as happy as Polly. Neither of them noticed what I did. There
was a generous hole over Polly’s slit, through which Brent might
introduce some unwanted object right into her. And where her small
bottom sat, there was a hole through which he might push himself yet
again.
When Polly had gotten her swing going nicely, Brent called
Cheyenne and I over to him. He sat down in a child’s chair next to a
child’s table. Cheyenne and I took seats of our own. They were small.
They made my knees stick up and my ass complained to me about their hard
plastic surface. Brent sat with his own legs spread out. There was a
visible spear growing in his crotch. It pointed straight up with his
need.
Cheyenne looked happy. She seemed to enjoy being with this
man. I was ambivalent. It was all very well for her, perhaps, but my
boyfriend was downstairs fucking this man’s wife!
“You have a boner,” Cheyenne giggled. She gazed pointedly at
Brent’s erection.
“When I was in nursery school we always had ice cream!” Polly
called from her swing. “Chocolate or vanilla. Every day. Whichever we
wished!”
Brent thought a moment, then gazed about the room. “I want you
two to see if Polly can have some ice cream,” he told Cheyenne and I.
“Maybe there’s some Kool-Aid at least.”
“Alright,” I answered. I saw a small refrigerator next to a
set of toy cabinets. I went over to them, bent, letting him see (there
was nothing I could do otherwise) my bottom.
“Keep your legs apart!” Brent called to me. Ah, he knew the
rules of the castle. Reluctantly I widened my stance. He looked with
interest at my cunny, snug between my legs.
There was nothing in the toy cabinets except empty boxes and
cans. I knelt and opened the fridge. God must have blessed Polly.
There, within, stood two big tubs of ice cream. They were brand new. I
lugged one out and called Cheyenne over. We each brought one to the
table. I found an ice cream scooper in the toy cabinet.
“There aren’t any bowls,” I lamented.
“Catch, Polly!” Cheyenne called. She had opened her tub of ice
cream. It contained strawberry. She scooped out a ball of fresh
strawberry ice cream and flung the scoop at Polly.
“Aaack!” Polly cried. The ball of scooped ice cream struck her
right between her breasts. It slid down her tummy and nestled atop her
slit.
“Ooooh, it’s cold!” Polly lamented. She picked up the ice
cream, all the same, and held it to her mouth and bit into it. “I don’t
really like Strawberry,” she said.
“Then have some Vanilla!” I cried. Getting into the spirit of
things, I scooped up vanilla from my own tub of ice cream and tossed it
at her.
“You missed!” Polly replied. Sitting in her swing, she looked
glumly back at the place on the floor where my ice cream ball had
landed.
“I’ll try again,” I said. I passed my hand over my forehead
and scooped up another scoop. I tossed it at her, aiming carefully.
“Ooooh, got it!” Polly said gleefully. Reaching out her hands,
she just barely managed to catch the ice cream. She put it to her lips
and began eating it, while the other scoop lay on her thigh. “Ooops!”
she said. Looking down, eating the vanilla, she saw that the strawberry
scoop had once again rolled down onto her slit. She picked it up,
decided to try to hold both scoops at once. She was beginning to look
quite messy.
“What a clever idea,” Brent mused. He looked at Cheyenne and
I. “You two get on either side of me and throw ice cream at each
other,” he said.
I didn’t like the idea, but Cheyenne was pleasantly surprised
by it. She plunked down her tub on Brent’s left knee, while I put my
tub on his right. I found another ice cream scooper for her in the
cabinet. Brent unzipped himself so any lost ice cream might fall on his
prick. We both gasped as we saw how big he was. Not the size of Louis
and Andre, but still a worthy member. I felt a little better about
entertaining him.
With our hair loose about our shoulders, our makeup still
perfect from our morning toilet, Cheyenne and I got on either side of
Brent. We eyed each other.
“Who’s first?” I asked Cheyenne.
“I don’t know. I guess I can go first,” she replied. “Say
something insulting to me.”
“You’re a slut,” I told her.
“Okay, now hold still while I throw my ice cream at you,” she
said. Brent waited, watching us both, stroking his prick. Cheyenne
stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth and scooped up a big scoop
of ice cream from her tub. Then she gazed at me, while I stood across
from her with my hands on my hips.
Take Heart, Christians!
KIDDIE PORN FOR ONLY $3.00 !!!
SPY, June 1997, $3.00. e-mail: Spy Magaz@aol.com
Review: You can imagine my shock when I saw this word in
blazing green letters on the cover of this eminently reputable
magazine: “JAILBAIT”
Standing behind this word are three teenaged females. They are
wearing soft clothing, and small cottony socks. One of them is holding
a teddy bear.
Sweaty palmed, vegetable-brained, 40-word vocabulary moron that
I am, I promptly dropped Playboy, Penthouse, Hustler, Club, Swank, Club
International, and Mayfair and grabbed this issue. Could it be true?
Could I really buy kiddie porn at Tower Books and take it home and whack
off to it?
As you know, ANY photo of any female under the age of 18, even
of a female in an eskimo’s parka, is illegal under American law if the
image has the potential of conjuring up “lascivious” thoughts in the
mind of the viewer. (And any photo of an over-aged female is illegal
too, under the Hatch Act, if it creates the impression in the mind of
the viewer that the female might be under 18.)
So I was both shocked and pleased, and not sure which feeling
was greater.
Nonetheless I bought the magazine. (I hope no police are
reading this.)
What a delight this issue is! The article on “JAILBAIT” girls
begins with the lead, “Lights of our Lives, Fire of our Loins.” It goes
on to depict many, many breathtaking young underage females. The
youngest is Natalie Portman (pg. 46). (You didn’t think I’d forget to
mention her, did you, Christians?)
Try as I might, I just couldn’t manage to jack off to Chelsea
Clinton (pg. 42-43). (After all, she’s almost in college!)
However, I did jack off MANY times to the (anonymous) girl on
pg. 6. Sure, she’s not as young as Natalie, but she’s still worth a
good jack.
When I was done jacking off to all the girls in this issue, I
finally got around to reading the article. Guess what? SPY magazine’s
article is actually full of feminist claptrap, DAMNING males who like
little girls. But any pervert knows this is just a wise tactic, to
avoid prosecution for printing and distributing kiddie porn.
Of course it is sick and perverse for any man to like little
girls. That’s why I print FUCK DECENCY, to give men the opportunity to
be moral, by NOT reading this e-zine. (Of course, if you do read it,
there’s not much I can do about it.)
Being a good citizen, I promptly signed SPY magazine up to a
free subscription to FUCK DECENCY. I wanted to help them be moral, just
like I’m (hopefully) helping you. But after only one issue, SPY’s
e-mail address went “user unknown.”
How could this be? Is SPY on the lam? Are they already being
pursued by the Feds? Or are they too busy to get e-mail from ANYONE,
because they’re off making more kiddie porn?
Please, if you are reading this, do me a favor. Please go down
to your local bookstore and buy up all the copies of SPY. I don’t want
any little boys, or teenage boys, or little girls for that matter,
seeing this issue. (After all, it’s not sold in the ‘adult’ section.
It’s sold right next to TIME and Newsweek.) Girls might see this issue
and think they can be sexy. Boys might see this issue and notice that
there are girls in the world. And, worst of all, Men might see this
issue, and buy it and take it home and jack off to it. (Like me!)
Thank you for doing your civic duty, even if you are being bad
by reading this e-zine.
(That includes you, Christians. Quit reading all this smut and
claiming you’re doing it for ‘moral’ purposes. You have cocks and cunts
just like the rest of us do.)
AND IN THE END...
“Being assigned to interview and profile a pubescent superstar
is about as good as it gets.”
- SPY, May/June 1997, pg. 48.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller66@inreach.com
-formerly I was roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-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 270 EMISSION
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