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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 379 Passions Playpen NND g2
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SEXUALLY CONFUSED?
Dear holy joe - I’m confused, and curious too. I can’t decide
if I’m straight, gay, both straight and gay, or in love with something
like cybernetic, inanimate objects. Can you help?
Dear Confused - Of course I can help. That’s why I’m here. I
have found just the thing to solve your crisis of identity. It is:
Lost in Space, Classic TV Postcard Book, $9.99. Postcard-sized. Many
thick, glossy pages. Color and black-and-white photos throughout.
Published by HarperPrism. ISBN: 0-06-105583-2.
Review: The Space Family Robinson provides an excellent way
for you to determine which sorts of people appeal to you most: Men,
women, boys or (lest I forget) little girls. There’s even a robot, in
case you’re one of those people who gets a hard-on programming
computers.
I’ll toss a coin to decide where to begin: heads, females;
tails females. Ah, tails! We shall begin with the Space Family
Robinson’s (female) bottoms!
Ooops! There’s no pictures of bottoms in this booklet. Well,
let’s soldier on anyway, and do our best. I shall invite a boner-fide
psychiatrist to comment on the following females:
Mrs. Robinson: If you lust for her, you are a sick, perverted
individual. You probably lurk around old folks’ homes. Who in God’s
name could like this wrinkled old lady? Just thinking of fucking this
hag makes me want to vomit.
Judy: You are a man in search of a blow-job. Is there an
intern working in your office? Please warn her of your intentions.
Keep your zipper up, and DON’T drop anything in front of her. She’ll
probably bend down to pick it up for you, and you know very well what
will happen if she does that!
Penny: Congratulations! You have a healthy interest in your
fellow human beings. Little Penny will be more than happy to accompany
you wherever you go, and to tell you all her hopes, dreams, and
desires. If you’re lucky, she might even change into her bikini for
you. (No photos available of that, alas!)
While Penny is still pretty in the later episodes of Lost in
Space, it’s the early episodes where her beauty really shines! Be sure
to check out the postcard in this book where she’s holding a big, blue
flower-shaped umbrella. Although the other postcards of her in this
book are nice, that one is absolutely ravishing!
Well, there you have it! Each person in the Space Family
Robinson analyzed for you from the perspective of a licensed psychotic.
I hope you can now understand your identity and act upon it.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
NAKED girls and more at:
http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Issue No. 379
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Passion’s Playpen
Chapter Four
The gay men had been shown out by Bess. All was quiet in the
back yard. Before the girls loomed the barn. Kate imagined she smelled
animal smells as she and Cindy bumped up against the barn’s wooden
door. Trent, striding forward, naked as a buck in the woods and with
his cock only temporarily out of commission, lifted up the heavy wooden
bar that kept the barn closed. He pushed open the door. The girls saw
darkness within. Fearing rats, or mice, they were nonetheless shoved
inside by Trent and they went bawling into the smells of hay and captive
beasts.
Marie lit an oil lamp and the girls suddenly drew in their
breath. Kate shrieked. Before them, stabled quite securely, were not
beasts but men. There were five of them. Each was secured to a post of
his own. The men were big and strapping and strong but their arms and
legs were pulled back and chained. The post held each man as surely as
if he were a turkey waiting for the axe, or a steer in a
slaughterhouse.
Kate stared dumbfounded at the erotic sight before her. Each
man stood with his feet pulled apart, showing his genitals. Just his
toes touched the hay under his feet. Looking more closely, she saw that
some sympathetic soul had wedged wood under each man’s heel, and she
wondered how long they’d been chained here. The men grimaced at her.
Their arms were drawn back, manacled tightly, two with their hands
pulled back at waist level and three with their hands fixed high, but
yanked back so that their hands were held near the back of the sturdy
post.
Each post was broad and wide, supporting the barn right up to
the ceiling, and holding each man captive as well, for no other post
could have restrained such big and powerful men as these. Each was a
sight unto himself. Each rivalled Trent in beauty and grandeur. Broad
shoulders merged into powerful chests, flat stomachs were met by slim
waists and tree-trunk like thighs. But, blushing, forgetting to cry,
which she’d done so freely just outside the barn door, Kate found
herself looking most of all at the men where their legs joined. Each
man was young and he showed his vigor and strength by an erection that
jolted upright at her entry, as if awakened. The men stared at her and
at Cindy, and at Marie sometimes, but only as if to look at a mother,
afraid she might scold them. Otherwise their eyes lingered over Kate
and Cindy, gawking at their soft curves and the evidence of their play
with Trent’s cock in the breakfast room, smeared all stickily over their
bellies.
Immediately Cindy stuck a finger into her nest and began
masturbating herself. Kate, afraid to do the same, relented after just
a moment of thought (or non-thought, merely a reflex of conscience) and
fingered herself just as eagerly as her friend. With her other hand,
babylike, for she was on auto-pilot now, standing naked before these big
men, Kate stuck a finger into her mouth and sucked it.
“Good morning, boys!” Marie called out happily. The men could
not answer. The only item of clothing they wore was a gag, each fitted
with one over his mouth so that he couldn’t cry out. “I believe we’ve
woken up our horses,” Marie laughed. “My how they stand to attention
whenever I enter!”
“This is obscene!” Trent said. His voice was gruff and he
sounded unhappy.
“This is my stable, dear boy, and you are going to be bound up
just like the rest, for you are my favorite one of all!” Marie laughed.
Before Trent knew what was upon him a hulking shadow had appeared behind
him. It seized him. Marie kept her eye on Kate and Cindy lest the
girls try to run. Cindy, though, had legs weak with fear and Kate’s
chains kept her imprisoned.
Looking at the huge man in coveralls who had grabbed Trent,
Kate heard Cindy breathe, “The gardener!” And she guessed, correctly,
that it was the very man who had cut daisies for Cindy’s garland. Now
he showed his manly side, hefting Trent up like a sack of flour. He was
ugly and there was dirt on his trousers. He lifted Trent with ease,
carrying the man kicking through the barn to an empty post that stood
waiting. He reminded Kate of the Cyclops grabbing Odysseus. The
seafarer had been strong as any man, but he’d been no match for a
giant.
Marie laughed as she watched Trent struggle. “It’s quite
hopeless, my dear boy,” she called out. “He has the IQ of a 60 watt
bulb but the strength of a team of bulls. Let him chain you or when
he’s done cutting the bushes he’ll come and shear your bush as well!”
Marie drove the girls in front of her, hitting Kate and Cindy
lightly on their thighs with her many-thonged cat. The blows were
light, but the girls knew they were in trouble already and Marie had an
eager hand. They walked as quick as they could, despite their weak
knees and Kate’s chains. They approached the post where the gardener
was binding Trent.
Hoping that perhaps it was all a game, Trent relented a
little. Kate saw his penis rise anew as the gardner spread him open and
fastened him to the post in front of Marie. Kate wished her lover would
not find himself aroused by being made Marie’s prisoner.
“Trent! Please!” Kate begged in a hushed voice, lest she
offend Marie, who heard her anyway for Kate was standing right in front
of the woman. Trent stared right past his love and directly at Marie.
She stood just a little behind and between both girls, naked except for
her black leather boots and her matching gloves and her unsatisfied
cunt. She had taken off the dildo inside the house and Trent seemed
eager to plunge his newly awakened rod into her pussy. Marie responded
by thrusting out her cunny at him. She placed her hands on her hips and
watched as her eyes dueled with Trent’s. His stare darted from her face
to her genitals and her staring eyes did the same.
“God, how quickly you recover,” Marie complimented Trent. He
tugged at his bonds and found that his moment’s admiration of Marie had
left him quite well trussed up. The gardener stepped back. All Trent’s
limbs except his hard-on were completely restrained. Kate shivered as
she looked at him. Never had she seen such an erotic sight. Her own
lover completely at her mercy, if only she could beat Marie to him! His
balls swung lightly between his legs. They looked mostly empty but Kate
knew they would rise again soon. She wanted to rush forward and coax
them up with her hand and then suck upon his stamen cock until he
spurted fresh sperm into her mouth.
But it was no use. Marie had other plans for the girls. She
reminded them of her presence by a quick slash across their bare
thighs. “Come, girls,” she beckoned. “It’s time to attend to your
bottoms!”
With her long, healthy legs, still lightly tanned from her late
autumn pool sunnings, Kate struggled across the barn floor. It had been
neatly swept recently, and had a thin layer of fresh hay sprinkled upon
it, but it was still a dirt floor, and Kate did not like getting the
soles of her feet dirty. She tossed her hair, looking down at her
bosoms as they bounced beneath her chin, merrily innocent of her fate,
their nipples perked up so happily and delicately, as if she might be
going to breast feed her baby. Kate looked at Cindy. Unlike Kate,
who’d never been pregnant, Cindy was with child. Yet her bosoms bounced
with the same carefree innocence as Kate’s. The nipples were just as
hard. And in feeling the hay and the dirt beneath her feet, the thought
that entered Kate’s mind, strangely, as she brushed her hair back with
both hands from her face, was ‘I hope I don’t have to sit down in this
dirt.’
How odd that the mind and the body would react this way, Kate
thought. Her cunny buzzed, her bottom wanted to stay clean. Her
nipples protruded from her chest. And all around her, watching her
progress across the barn floor, were the men. Six of them, massively
built but no match for the strong posts which held them or the chains
which the gardener, like some extra from a James Bond film, had wrapped
around them. In looking at them, insidiously, for her mind was
overwhelmed by everything she saw, Kate found herself admiring the glint
of steel on such strong, well-formed male chests. And down below,
between each man’s legs, she saw he was burdened by his lust. His balls
bulged with promise, unfulfilled. Like a sentry, his penis stood ready,
stiff and hard and jabbing at the air.
BOOK REVIEW
by holy joe
Postcards, by E. Annie Proulx, $5.99. Hardbound, 309 pages.
Pocket-sized. Published in Great Britain by Clays Ltd. ISBN:
1-85702-590-3. (Available on the discount table at Borders Books.)
Review: “Woman,” said the Greek poet Hipponax, “brings two
days of happiness to a man. One when he marries her, the other when he
buries her.”
We meet Loyal Blood on his second day of happiness, when he
kills and buries his wife. Then he begins a cross-country trek through
1940’s America. I am only up to page 30 of this book, but already I
give it my highest recommendation!
This book is proof that women are good for something, though it
is undoubtedly NOT for living or sleeping with. I have never read a
book as well written as this one. The quality of the author’s language
is superb. Also, being a woman author, Annie’s verbiage is strewn with
hidden sexual meanings. If you want to read sexy writing from a woman’s
point of view, this is the book to buy!
Another great thing about this book is that each chapter begins
with a postcard. You read the postcard, which is quite interesting, and
wonder: “What the Hell does that have to do with anything?” By the end
of each chapter you understand what the postcard meant.
If you live in a foreign country, I recommend this book as an
introduction to America. You will get an excellent sense of American
thinking. It is, admittedly, a 1940’s way of thinking, but by knowing
an earlier, more rural America, you will have laid a basis by which to
understand America in its modern form.
It would be nice if all the women in the world who are busy
making a nuisance of themselves would become writers instead, like E.
Annie Proulx. Then the world would be a better place. And when they
died, they would leave something worthwhile behind, instead of just
making the men in their lives have a happy (second) day.
Tuesday with Little Spain
by Will Dockery
And I am shoved back into this night life,
well she said, she said, she said it was impossible.
There is a place, it smoulders, it is the past, dreamtime,
wander these dark corridors of memory.
I sleep so deep, I don’t like to sleep,
my dreams threaten to wash me away
Floating in a sea of bad vibes, I do these things over and over,
repentatively, feel regret but keep doing it over and over.
Then the whole thing becomes a blur.
Grey and pasted, patched together with spackling
and sheet rock mud, a disgusted perversion of humanity.
During the decline and fall of poetry, in the summer of sardonic excess,
I sat with Little Spain and felt her softness.
Still a sky poet, though tattered and glowing,
brought down from Blue Territory, no longer in Blue Territory.
I wandered by a cold river in the flaming copper land of summer.
This complete process of remaking we had, your mix of pales & shades,
your, distinctive, mythic self, one distinct sing of your eyes...
I must bitterly understand our fate, we were never meant to be,
like lost in the mirror’d rooms of a crazy house.
Crimson on the napkins,
pink fuzz on the clover.
Maneuver to the left, and forward,
into a mud soaked future.
AND IN THE END...
PARADISE FOUND !
(A real-life, legal sign, as shown on the June 18, 1998 NewsHour with
Jim Lehrer:)
INDIAN LAND
PRIVATE PROPERTY
SECURITY ENFORCED
NO: STATE POLICE
NO: F.B.I.
NO: I.R.S.
OR ANY OTHER
AGENCIES.
(I always knew I was 1/8th Indian! - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 379 EMISSION
Hipponax: The Story of Civilization, by Will and Ariel Durant,
Volume 2, pg. 143.
(You got any cute girls on that Indian land? - h.j.)
(No. Just gottem big fat squaws. --[: (
(Oh shit. Never mind. - h.j.)
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