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From: Andrew Roller <roller66@inreach.com>
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Subject: FUCK DECENCY 271 Bush League (nnd)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 271
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Three
“You’re a slut and a lousy shot,” I told her. “And don’t get
any in my hair.”
“Your hair on your head or your muff?” Cheyenne asked, and she
launched her scoop right at my private.
“Yikes!” I exclaimed. I watched as her scoop flew across and
landed right where she’d aimed it. I found myself looking at a big ball
of ice cream right on my delta. Slowly it slid off and plopped like a
turd to the floor. Behind it left a runny smear of strawberry in my
pubic hair.
“Alright, my turn, wise ass,” I told her. In answer, Cheyenne
turned around and happily mooned me.
“Some ice cream would feel good on my bottom!” Cheyenne said
invitingly.
“Okay, you’re going to get it, then,” I answered. I tossed
well, but she flinched at the last moment.
“No fair! You have to stand still,” I told her.
“Rats,” Cheyenne said. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
She resumed her salacious pose.
“I want to play too!” Polly cried. But she was stuck in her
swing. She could not get out of it without someone lifting her out.
Cheyenne and Brent and I ignored her. I wanted to have my
second shot. I scooped, aimed again, and plopped my ball of ice cream
right on Cheyenne’s left cheek.
“Oooch! That’s cold!” Cheyenne shivered. The ice cream fell
to the floor, leaving a smear in its wake that was white.
“At least this way you’ll get a white bottom,” I told her.
“My turn!” she replied. She made me stand still and we
continued like this, back and forth, until we were both covered with
splats of ice cream. Twice we hit each other on the boobs, and once I
struck her in the face, not meaning too, but aiming too high for her
tits. Polly bleated all the while that she wanted to join us. Finally
we bombed her with ice cream, just to make sure she was as messy as we
were. She almost cried, but held back her tears, knowing it was just in
fun. Brent rubbed himself the entire time. I feared he might cum but I
didn’t really care. I was more worried about what was happening
downstairs with Louis.
“Well, there’s only one way to clean up ice cream that I know
of,” Brent said. He pointed to a small child’s bed in the corner of the
room. “You and Fleury go and lick it off each other,” he told
Cheyenne.
Cheyenne, enjoying her nudity and with an eye toward the
promise of Brent’s erection, crossed over to me and took my hand.
“Let’s make up,” she said.
“Alright,” I replied. We kissed. We did it for Brent. She
took my face in her hands and we wiggled our bottoms as our tongues
touched. I felt her nipples perk to mine. Polly, still unsatisfied,
begged to join us. Cheyenne took my hand and led me over to the bed. I
waited while she turned down the covers. Then we both slipped into it.
We kissed again, briefly, and then I stretched out on the bed. She
knelt beside me. She smiled at me. I smiled back, waiting for her
tongue. I glanced at Brent.
“Play with yourself,” I encouraged him. I wanted him to cum so
we might escape downstairs.
“Alright,” Brent answered. “See if you can make me cum.”
“Oooh, I’m tired of swinging! I want OUT!” Polly moaned.
“Quiet, girl! Stick your finger through that hole in the front
of your swing and play with yourself right along with me,” Brent ordered
her.
“Oooh, this is naughty,” Polly said, discovering for the first
time that there was an extra leg hole in her swing, unused. She reached
over the front of her swingseat and poked her finger at her slit.
“You’re still a slut,” I said to Cheyenne.
“I know, but I’ll bite off your nipples if you call me that
again,” she said softly to me. She lowered her face to my tits and
began licking them. I sighed. I parted my legs more widely and her
hand slid down my creamy belly to my cunt. “You taste good,” Cheyenne
told me.
“Thanks,” I answered.
I shivered and turned my head on its side. What an unusual
room we were in! Some awful pedophile must have designed it, for it
was, in effect, a playroom for very small children. There was the toy
cabinet, made of plastic. There was the swingset, with twin swings,
designed for infants, except with bigger seats. There was a children’s
table, low to the ground, with small seats designed to hold little
children’s bottoms. I saw Play-Doh, rattles, pacifiers, lying about
aimlessly, waiting to be picked up and played with. But also there were
dildos, of varying sizes and designs. Plus condoms, casually laid out
so they might be picked up and used at a moment’s notice. Off in one
corner there was a baby pool, already inflated, with a hose stretching
out from a faucet in the wall so it could be easily filled. Within it,
waiting, were water wings, a toy telescope, a pinwheel, and a plastic
boat. Beside it stood the de rigueur bottle of Mr. Bubble, housed in a
bottle shaped like Winnie the Pooh. Underneath the baby pool was a big
fluffy towel, laid out, for obviously any girls who got into the pool
would make splashes and toss water out of the pool. The floor itself
was softly carpeted, to protect the little bare feet that were sure to
scamper across it. Above, a skylight allowed the sun to brighten the
room naturally. We might have been outside in the yard but, given all
the opportunities to fuck, we were instead in a private attic,
sound-proofed, with the trap door locked securely. It would be our word
against Brent’s as to what happened here, and I guessed his would win.
We were, after all, just little girls, weren’t we?
Cheyenne slurped her way down my belly. I glanced down at my
tits. They were sparkling clean, save for the saliva left behind by her
tongue.
“You’re doing a good job,” I shivered. Her fingers lightly
played along my slit.
“Thanks,” she answered. I opened my legs a little wider.
Despite my misgivings about being here, I couldn’t deny I was enjoying
myself. I stroked my fingers along Cheyenne’s thigh. She shifted a
little. “Not yet,” she teased. She shifted her hips away from me so
that I could not reach her slit.
“What do you want me to do to you?” I laughed. My bosoms
bounced nakedly on my chest.
“I’m going to take you right to the brink, and then you’re
going to do me,” Cheyenne said. She lifted her face from my body to
speak to me. There was ice cream on her nose.
“You’re wicked,” I said. I did not want to be aroused and then
left hanging.
“You’ll tongue me very nicely if you’re desperate,” Cheyenne
said happily. She saw my hand edging toward my cunt in response. “No,
don’t play with yourself,” Cheyenne warned me. “If you do I’ll find a
whip and flay your bottom, and ask Brent to help me.” She grabbed my
hand by the wrist, lightly but firmly, a finger on her hand extended as
if she were holding a teacup, and moved my hand away from myself.
“What, are you the domme?” I asked her, a bit surprised. She
was the newest girl! She had not even met Branson yet.
“Yes, I am the domme, at least for now,” Cheyenne said to me.
She placed her face over my tummy and swirled her tongue round my navel,
once, then ran it directly, in a continuous line, right down my belly
and through my pubic mound to my slit. She beavered into me and I
shuddered uncontrollably. I gritted my teeth, smiling, and bucked up my
hips.
“Ohhhh, please don’t,” I begged. I didn’t really want to be
here with Brent. I didn’t want to let myself go like this. I’d just
wanted to get him to cum, and then escape downstairs. But now I was
sinking into the abyss of pleasure, and anything might happen to me now!
Brent came to our bedside and stood over us and massaged
himself. I looked up, then Cheyenne. “Please don’t shoot on us,” I
begged him. I didn’t really want a semen shower. He reached down and
pushed Cheyenne off me. She toppled back and landed on her
bottomcheeks. She’d been kneeling over me, but she let him roughly push
her back, as if she were a rag doll. She sat with her legs open and her
slit showing. I think she wanted it more than I did, despite the
licking she’d tantalized me with.
“Get up,” Brent told me.
“Oh, please,” I protested. Lying underneath Cheyenne’s
attentive tongue was, I was sure, much better than anything Brent had
planned for me. But he took me by the arm and yanked me up from the
bed. I stood shivering beside him, naked as he was, warily eyeing his
cock. He’d undressed since Cheyenne and I had taken to the bed. He
ordered me over to the toy cabinet. What was he thinking?
“Find me a nice pair of dildos,” Brent said to me. I glanced
about. There were a few lying about, intermixed with the toys someone
had left out, but I guessed he found those unsatisfactory. I opened the
toy cabinet. Well, there were none here, I realized. But drawers down
below held out some promise. I began opening them and soon found one
full of dildos, all laid out in a pile, like sausages, with a red velvet
handkerchief underneath them.
“Pick two,” Brent said quietly to me. “They need to have studs
on the end so they can be clipped into the holes on the infant swing.”
He spoke quietly. I bit my lower lip and tried to suppress a
smile. Cheyenne had gotten up from the bed and gone to Polly and was
swinging her. Polly, who’d spent the last five minutes complaining that
she wanted out of the swing, was now ordering Cheyenne to push her
higher and higher.
“WHEEE! Go higher!” I heard Polly yelling in the background as
Cheyenne, her tits swinging, dutifully pushed on Polly’s seat. I found
two well-sized dildos for her, with the proper studs, and plucked them
from the drawer. Polly would be giving quite different orders in a
minute.
Cheyenne, perhaps sensing mischief, stilled Polly’s swing as I
turned and approached them. Polly gazed at me with childish eyes, big,
round, unknowing. I walked easily, feeling quite tingly in my slit
thanks to Cheyenne’s licking, swaying my hips sexily to excite Brent. I
was getting into the mood of the moment now. I’d stopped thinking about
escaping from the attic. With a leap of my heart I realized that Brent,
or perhaps Cheyenne, had lofted Polly’s hands up high over her head and
fitted them into cuffs. The cuffs hung down from the overhead pole of
the swingset, the horizontal pole, where the swing itself was attached.
I felt my nipples grow harder as I realized little Polly, quite nude in
her swing, would be utterly at my mercy.
“What are those for?” Polly asked me. I dangled the two dildos
temptingly before her eyes.
“They’re for you,” I laughed. “Polly, you’re going to sit in
the Seat of Doom!”
“Nooooo!” Polly shrieked. But Cheyenne put her hands to
Polly’s little ribs and held her tight in the seat. Polly wriggled,
watching, as I placed the first dildo against her slit. There was a
hole in her seat, her slit plump against the opening. she was utterly
at my disposal.
“Mmmm, you’re wet, Polly. Have you been playing with
yourself?” I asked her.
“Nooo,” Polly gurgled, watching me with big eyes. Brent handed
me a jar of vaseline. How thoughtful of him. How forgetful of me not
to remember it. Quickly I larded the dildo with vaseline, sticking it
into the jar and then drawing it out.
“Pleeeeaze,” Polly gasped, watching. It was a nice big dildo
and would plug her quite well.
“This is only the first of two, Polly,” I laughed. “The second
one goes you-know-where.” Cheyenne laughed with me. Polly screamed,
like a little girl might, playing at the pool. I pushed the dildo right
into her. She was tight but my dildo was well greased and she’d
wettened herself my being naughty in her swing.
“Oooh, ooh, ooooh,” Polly gasped, each gasp a little yelp. The
next thing I knew, Brent, our ever-handy man, was passing a penis shaped
ball gag to Cheyenne. The girl accepted it eagerly and wrapped it over
Polly’s gasping mouth.
“Gooooo,” Polly moaned, fighting the gag. But Cheyenne got it
right in and buckled the head strap on her. I fitted the dildo entirely
within her moist slit and latched it onto the clasps on the swingseat.
Next I took the second dildo and, burrowing it in the vaseline, I
proceeded to jam it up her bottomhole, right through the convenient hole
that had been cut in the seat.
Polly was beside herself. All three orifices of hers were
plugged. I found the butt dildo the hardest to get up her but I
persevered until the task was done. Cheyenne began swinging Polly when
I’d finished. We looked amazing. Tanned, healthy, with ice cream
smeared over ourselves but our hair still pretty. Polly wriggled in her
seat, utterly captive, utterly unable to escape. What a pretty picture
she made! Brent began fisting himself furiously. I turned to him and
touched a finger to the head of his cock.
“You, sir, are a pervert,” I told him.
ZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Playboy’s Nude Playmates, $6.95. e-mail: newstand@playboy.com
Review: When I grow up, I’m going to build my very own gay
bathhouse. But it won’t be for gays. It will be for girls only. (And
me.) I know it will be popular, because in this special issue of
Playboy I see that many, many girls are already practising to become
members of my bathhouse when it opens.
Jennifer Lavatory (oops! Lavoie) is all set with her small
metal bucket, her sponge, and some bubbly water (pgs. 76-77). And, most
important, she’s already taken her clothes off, but checked her hair,
makeup, and lipstick to make sure they’re perfect.
Angel Boris and Priscilla Taylor (cover and pgs. 1, 3-5) are a
little worried. They tried to pee in the potty with the door closed.
(This is rule number one: “No peeing behind closed doors.”) (Do you
think I’m going to consign myself to views through a surveillance
camera? Not likely.) So they both have to get spankings.
Suzi Simpson is preparing to meet me. She’s pouring white
stuff all over herself (pgs. 64-65). Some guy at Tower Books told me
it’s milk, but I know better.
Naughty little Shae Marks (pgs. 70-71) is eagerly looking
forward to the opening of my bathhouse. She’s all set to run away from
home and come join me as soon as it’s built. She’s got her backpack all
packed and, of course, she’s leaving her bra, panties, and the rest of
her clothes behind. (Her backpack is full of condoms and KY jelly!)
Rachel Jean (Mar)teen (pgs. 66-67) is eager to join me too.
But every time she thinks about me, she wants to hop right into bed!
(Rachel, honey, my bathhouse is here in San Francisco. You need to come
here and THEN we’ll get into bed.) (Ah well, some of these littler
girls get things sorta confused.)
Now I want to make one thing very, very clear. There is one
policy above all at my bathhouse: NO WOMEN. I know, I know. In this
age, everything is women women women women women women women women women
women women women women women women women women women women women women
women women women women women women women women women women women women
women women women women women women women women women women women women
women women women women women women women women women women women women.
But I believe in diversity. So at my bathhouse, it’s “girls
ONLY!” I’d call my bathhouse “Kids Only,” but AOL already took that
title. (Plus, I don’t want any horny boys showing up.)
Some of you, reading this, my say, “Fuck him. He’s just some
pervert.” Well, let’s review a fact or two. FACT: Earlier this year,
I reviewed the magazine, Playboy’s Lingerie Model Search. (What Playboy
refers to, at the back of Playboy’s Nude Playmates, as “the March (1997)
issue of Playboy Lingerie.” (pg. 96). FACT: I said that the two
prettiest girls in Playboy’s Lingerie Model Search were Kristine
McFadden and Jacqueline Marie. I especially liked Jacqueline Marie
because she looks 12-years-old.
FACT: On pg. 96 of Playboy’s Nude Playmates, the Marines of
Alpha Company 1/8, aboard the U.S.S. Nassau, write to Playboy. Guess
who THEY say the prettiest girls are in Playboy’s Lingerie Model
Search? That’s right! Kristine McFadden and Jacqueline Marie !!! And
the entire company of marines signed their letter to Playboy, just like
the Founders signing the Constitution of the United States of America.
Feminists, Christians: in the case of the Marines of Alpha
Company 1/8, we are not talking some little dweeb sitting in his
dumpster. We are talking the United States Marine Corps! Yet they
agree with me when it comes to females, and I agree with them.
So, please. Next time you’re talking to your daughter, or your
son, and you’re about to say, “Don’t mind that FUCK DECENCY guy. He’s
just some pervert. There are a FEW of those in this world, and soon
we’ll have them all locked up.” Uh, uh, ladies. If you’ve got a
problem with me, you’ve got a problem with the male species, in
general.
Sure, your neutered husband may agree with you. But that’s
because you keep his balls so thoroughly milked his brain doesn’t work
right anymore. REAL guys, like me, know the difference between right
and wrong. Right is liking Kristine McFadden and Jacqueline Marie (who
looks 12-years-old). Wrong is you, your fucking opinions, your fucking
laws, and your fucking government.
BEGONE, women! Even in mythology there is a time when women
run loose, terrorizing the society, and causing great harm to men. But
their time passes. Your time will pass as well.
AND IN THE END...
A THOUSAND CHILD MOLESTERS !!!
“He had a daughter,
Chione; she was lovely, and she had
A thousand suitors, more or less, though hardly
Into her teens.”
- Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book Eleven, lines 301-304.
-------------------------- 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.
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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 271 EMISSION
- If you’re wondering what inspired me to write the story “Baby Pussy,”
it was the photos of Kristine McFadden in Playboy’s Lingerie Model
Search.
--
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