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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 390  Passions Playpen  NND g2
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         “Once I was helping a guy move -- him, his wife, their two
young daughters -- and a box I was carrying out broke open and small
paperbacks spilled to the ground in the bright sunshine.  I gathered
them up and then idly flipped through one, and then another and
another.  They were all cheap things from no-name presses about men --
daddies, uncles, whoever -- fucking kids.  I was stunned and did not
know what to do.  I felt oddly violated...”

- Harper’s Magazine, August 1998, pgs. 50-51.


                holy joe’s COMPLETE LIST OF VICTORIAN PORN !


         Life’s tough.  It’s bad enough that I don’t own a car and have
to ride the bus.  But on the back of the bus, while I am riding around
in it, there is this sign:  “Sex with a Minor is a Major Crime.”  
         If you can imagine some Jewish guy riding around in a bus
adorned with Nazi propaganda, or a black guy riding in a bus with white
racist slogans on it, you can understand how I feel.  Worse, I have to
pay taxes, and guess where the money goes?  To buy more of those fucking
signs.
         I have no idea what sort of paperbacks fell out of the box
mentioned above, but one of the signatures of Victorian erotica is the
presence of a father or uncle in the story.  Often you will see lines
like this:
  
         “Then uncle raised my legs upon the bed... I kicked and cried,
would not be comforted.”
         “So you were birched, my love, were birched?”
         Hand slipping down, I feel beneath her wondrous globe, the
swollen flesh, ripe, silky, bulbing to my hand.
         “Do not, Papa, do not!  Your hand disturbs.”

         Yes, that’s right.  A shy ‘victim girl’ is explaining to her
father how her uncle birched her.  Even as she seeks solace from her
father, he is busily molesting her!
         Personally, I’m not in favor of fathers making love to their
daughters.  But it is a common theme in Victorian erotica.  And, as far
as I’m concerned, Victorian erotica is not something to be dismissed. 
It’s not simply “daddies, uncles, whoever -- fucking kids.”  That would
be like summing up the Old Testament by saying, “It’s a book about
murder and rape.”
         Hence, I have compiled a list of the best Victorian erotica. 
As stated last issue, these books were originally published by Grove
Press, then sold to Blue Moon Books, and have since (apparently) gone
out of print.  I am including the ISBN number to help you find them if
you should wish to read them.  In my case, I read them on the bus.

Arabella  ISBN:  0-394-62478-5
Emily  ISBN:  0-394-62069-0
Miss Martin  ISBN:  0-394-62116-6
Pamela  ISBN:  0-929654-76-5
Katherine  ISBN:  0-394-62218-9
Clara Birch  ISBN:  0-8021-3109-3
Elizabeth  ISBN:  0-394-62037-2
Julie  ISBN:  0-394-62240-5
Hardcastle  ISBN:  0-929654-83-8
Davina  ISBN:  0-8021-3110-7
Maude Cameron  ISBN:  0-929654-24-2
Vanessa  ISBN:  0-394-62126-3
Eveline II  ISBN:  0-394-17972-2
Ellen’s Story  ISBN:  1-56201-057-3

         Believe it or not, all of the books I’ve listed above are
apparently by the same author!  One way to tell is the use of
capitalizations in the narrative:  the sound of the whip is often
capitalized, as are the moans of the girls.  Also, the heroines in each
book are young virgins.  Grown women are present, but only as cheerful,
compassionate sadists, helping the virgins to accept their violation. 
In all the books the male characters are little more than walking
penises.  They exist to fuck, and to say, “Down, girl!” but otherwise
they are fairly undetailed and remote.
         (Who wants to read about men, anyway?)
         I have listed the books by the above (anonymous) author in
roughly their order of quality.  Arabella is the best.  But even the
books at the bottom of the list are worth getting.  The problem with
some of the latter books is that they are written from the first-person
male perspective.  That, to me, is a much less interesting perspective
than that of first-person, female virgin narrator.  Also, in some of the
latter books there aren’t very many sex scenes.
         Now I shall list other Victorian books by other authors:

Beatrice  ISBN:  0-8021-3108-5

         Beatrice is so similar in tone and content to the books listed
above that I’m tempted to include it in the above list.  It features two
virgin sisters.  When the girls are whipped, the sound of the whip and
of their moans is capitalized.  (Or italicized.)  However, there are
lines of poetic imagery in Beatrice that hint of authorship by a
different writer.
         So far, all the books I’ve listed have featured ‘nice’
bondage.  You always get the feeling that, no matter how the girls are
treated, they have consented in some fundamental (if unexpressed) way.
         Next are a series of books that concentrate on forced sex and
bondage.  I used to hate these books, and have thrown away quite a few
of them in my lifetime.  However, lately I began to realize how well the
author of these books was writing, even if he did treat his girls
callously.  The first book listed, The Gardens of the Night, has
descriptive scenery in it that is so well crafted that I urge you to buy
the book and read it, even if you skip the sex parts.  After reading a
book like Gardens for awhile, you will come to enjoy the sexual
descriptions too, if only for the brilliance of the author’s use of
words.  I am positive that the author of Gardens and Noreen wrote many
more books than I have listed.  Unfortunately, he treats his girls in
his novels so cruelly that I did not save his books.  Nowadays, I no
longer see them on sale.

The Gardens of the Night  ISBN:  0-8021-3112-3
Noreen  ISBN:  0-929654-89-7

         Next up are three modern books:

In A Mist  ISBN:  1-56201-062-X
Ironwood  ISBN:  0-8216-5022-X
The Afternoons of a Woman of Leisure  ISBN:  1-56201-029-8

         Afternoons, in fact, stars an adult woman, though she is new to
bondage so she is, in some sense, like the virgin heroines in the other
books.  
         When I use the word “virgin” it is metaphorical.  In none of
the books listed above is the “virgin” heroine in fact a vaginal
virgin.  In each case the girl begins the novel having already lost her
vaginal virginity, though she has yet to feel a penis in her bottom or
her mouth.  This is perhaps because vaginal deflowerment is considered
too private and intimate an act, even for a sex novel.  I myself have
found that when vaginal deflowerment does occur in a sex novel, it is so
sacred that it seems out of place in the book.  These are lusty,
rambunctious books.  The girls are winsomely curious, quickly getting
themselves into one situation after another where they are forced to
endure whips and penises.  Vaginal deflowerment is probably too “heavy”
a subject for fast-paced, jolly books like these.
         I highly recommend the books listed above.  In my opinion,
there is no better definition for what a girl should be than the
portraits of the girls depicted above.  Who could not love these shy,
hesitant “children” who manage to wind up in one orgy after another?  No
matter what happens to them (and it is never harsh) they soon find
themselves naked and moaning yet again, ever receptive, perfect sex
goddesses practising to give birth to the next generation.


                                      Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY

                                      NAKED girls and more at:
                               http://www.AlessandraSmile.com

                                              Issue No. 390

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                            Passion’s Playpen

                                               Chapter Five

         “No offence, lad, but you’ve got quite a shocker here,” Rod
said to David.  “You’re liable to scare the girls away with this!”  
         Everyone laughed.  The boy had been calm and collected in the
living room but now he had risen right up to the bursting point upon
finding himself stripped bare in a bondage room.  His excitement was
palpable and, with it, his intense need to spend.
         Rod himself was no slacker in the erection department.  Now
that he was locked into a bondage chamber with nude females and males,
he offered himself proudly.  Kate suspected he’d be savvy enough to keep
his own manhood clear of pain, while inflicting it on the younger
erections of the males around him.
         Mike was Jim’s age, though much more controlled in his
movements than Jim was.  He had an easy-going, swaggering confidence. 
Kate guessed he’d played at bondage before, or was cool enough to fake
it.  Of course they’d all had a little experience.  That was a
prerequisite to receiving an invitation to this party.  But what that
experience might have been could vary dramatically.  For Kate it had
been just her one previous visit to Marie’s.  And Kate guessed Jim and
David were little more experienced than she.
         Cindy was gaining weight from her pregnancy and she’d acquired
a nice plump butterball bottom.  Her breasts, too, had grown, and they
bounced on her chest as she laughed, watching Rod fondle David’s young
hard-on.  Nancy sidled up to Cindy.  Both girls were the same age. 
Nancy, slim and practical-looking, with a glint of firmness in her eyes,
placed her hand on Cindy’s ass.  She palmed it openly.  Kate expected
Cindy to resist but the girl instead merely flinched.  She stared
straight ahead, watching Rod massage David, while Nancy caressed her
ass.
         “You’re pregnant?” Nancy asked Cindy.  Nancy was slim as a
gazelle with breasts almost too big for modelling, but not quite, though
she had opted for the no-nonsense life of office work instead of posing
on a runway or going to college.
         “Yes,” Cindy breathed in response.  
         “This may be your last chance to really have fun and do
whatever you want,” Nancy replied.  And as if to test the girl’s resolve
to submit herself one last time in a room such as this, Nancy poked a
finger into the redhead’s ass.
         “Don’t,” Cindy breathed.  Her hips jerked but she did not
manage to pull herself off Nancy’s finger.  Instead, accepting it after
a moment’s surprise, Cindy stood calmly and quietly as she could.  She
gazed at the other guests, pretending nothing was happening, though all
could see it, as Nancy probed more deeply and lewdly within her.
         Marie moved through her guests like a lioness inspecting her
brood.  She was as naked and vulnerable as everyone else, with her
nipples showing their stems and her bush as bare as her face.  But there
was little doubt, looking at her expression, that she would rule them
all and bring out or repress the emotions in each of them.  Her face,
with a sardonic smile, her eyes hard and bright, contained just the
right mixture of compassion and cruelty.  She paused by Lynette and
placed a hand on the brunette’s tummy, then impressed her finger into
Lynette’s navel.  Marie’s nail was sharp and Lynette was forced to gasp
and draw in her tummy as the sharp nail poked in her belly.
         “Are you ready for a night of fun?” Marie asked her nude guest.
         “Yes,” Lynette answered.  Her eyes were wide and she watched as
Marie’s hand slipped down her belly to tug at the hairs of her bush and
then, going between Lynette’s legs, intruded into her cunt.
         “You’re wet,” Marie said to Lynette.
         “Of course I’m wet,” Lynette answered.  Her hips twisted
forward as Marie delved more deeply.
         “Would you like some shrimp?” the waitress, whose name was
Beth, asked Marie and Lynette.  She had fetched a tray of shrimp from a
small refrigerator in the corner of the room.  It was her job to keep
everyone happy, no matter what they might be doing.  Still wearing her
white gloves and her spiked heels, she held its contents up to the
women.
         “Why yes, we would,” Marie said.  She removed her fingers from
Lynette’s cunt and used them to take a large shrimp from the tray.  She
passed the shrimp between Lynette’s legs.  Behind, her other hand
gripped at the juncture of Lynette’s bottom and legs and forced Lynette
to accept a wider stance.  With Lynette’s cunt wet and open to her,
Marie moistened the shrimp in Lynette’s slit and then lifted it up to
the woman’s lips.  “Eat it,” Marie commanded the model.  
         Lynette, looking crosseyed at the shrimp because it was held so
close, extended her tongue and tasted it.  Her face looked like that of
a child forced to accept something it didn’t like.  
         “Bite,” Marie ordered.  Lynette took a little nibble on the fat
shrimp.  
         “Oh!” Lynette cried.  Down below, where her legs joined, Marie
stabbed her sex with a pointed, probing finger.  In her open-mouthed
surprise at being sexually violated, Marie found the opportunity she’d
been waiting for.  She popped the vaginally-moistened shrimp into
Lynette’s wide apart lips.  Immediately, seeing what had happened,
Lynette snapped her lips shut.  But it was too late.  The shrimp was
inside and she dared not spit it out.  Glumly, though perhaps not
looking too sad, she chewed and swallowed the shrimp as Marie played two
fingers within her dell.


                                             Just a Memory
                                           by Lisa Scarboro

  When I’m just a memory in your head,
  how will you remember me?
  Will you think of me as a waste of your time,
  or will your memories be sweet?
  Will you choose to remember the way things
  were when we first started out,
  how we talked and laughed and never slept
  and could not bear to be apart?
  Or will your memories tend to be
  the bad ones, the sad ones, the ones that hurt,
  the angry words and jealousies?
  Will you remember the colors of my eyes,
  the scent of my hair freshly washed
  or how it felt to hug each other?
  Or will you remember my angry scowls,
  my vicious sarcasm born of my lonely
  desperation,
  the many ways I misunderstood,
  when I’m just a memory in your head?


                                             AND IN THE END...

                                 THE  BENEFITS  OF CHILD ABUSE

         “Demeter’s daughter Persephone, while gathering flowers, was
kidnaped by Pluto, god of the underworld, and snatched down to Hades. 
The sorrowing mother searched for her everywhere, found her, and
persuaded Pluto to let Persephone live on the earth nine months in every
year -- a pretty symbol for the annual death and rebirth of the soil.”

- The Story of Civilization, by Will and Ariel Durant, Volume 2, pg.
178.


-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for:  Jock Sturges’ Radiant
  Identities and David Hamilton’s The Age of Innocence. Support art!
-Also by David Hamilton:  A Place in the Sun, and Twenty Five Years
  of an Artist      Need a book?  http://www.amazon.com
- NAKED girls, under 18!  Plus scholarly books.  Publishing for over
  a decade, it’s Alessandra’s Smile, P.O. Box 2377, New York, NY
 10185-2377.  Phone:  1-212-505-6985; Web:
  http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
- JOIN the world’s greatest organization!  Send $35.00 to The North
  American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
  NAMBLA, 537 Jones St. #8418, San Francisco, CA 94102.
  Phone:  1-212-807-8578; Web:  http://www.nambla.org
-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.
-Official Newsletter, Temple of Pan
-END OF 390 EMISSION

         “Do not, Papa,” quoted from Elizabeth, pg. 190.


         “Because the people of Eleusis befriended the disguised Demeter
as she ‘sat by the way, grieved in her inmost heart,’ she taught them
and Attica the secret of agriculture.”

- The Story of Civilization, by Will and Ariel Durant, Volume 2, pg.
178.


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