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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
NAKED girls and more at:
http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Issue No. 405
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Passion’s Playpen
Chapter Eight
The hostess came around to where John and Melinda and Kate were
standing, talking with Rex and the young man whom Kate admired for
having such fiery eyes. He introduced himself to her as Ken. Kate
liked the fact that both her name and his began with the same letter.
He seemed to want to stare at her bare pussy but he kept his eyes aloft,
at the level of her eyes, though sometimes he did allow them to fall to
the level of her breasts. Kate’s corset, which everyone now knew she
wore, pushed her bosoms up high. Her nipples presented themselves to
him through the thin fabric of her blouse. It was a blouse that a
little girl might wear, frilled at the edges, with short sleeves that
were too short, hugging her upper arms where they joined to her
shoulders. It dipped in front, but modestly had a slim-ribboned bow
tied between her uplifted breasts. Ken, clearly a little nervous at
touching her in the presence of her master, as he talked to Rex, reached
out and yanked on Kate’s blouse-bow and undid it.
“Hey, those breasts are mine to torture,” John said to Ken.
“Torture? I should want to defend them then,” Ken replied.
His resolve to have her seemed to stiffen in the face of another male’s
open resistance.
The hostess, perhaps sensing the start of a dispute between two
of her males, appeared before John with her wine bottle in hand. “It’s
been awhile since I’ve been marked,” she said to John softly, meeting
his darkening eyes with her own deep blue pair. To Kate they looked
like pools in which anyone might be lost, male or female, and she felt
again her desire to know this woman as she had not known any other.
Perhaps it was simply the wine, for when the hostess had
refilled John’s glass she turned to Kate, nudging Ken back, and told
Kate to drink what was in her glass so she could add this new, different
brand.
Kate sipped her glass as quickly as she could. Ken’s eyes
flashed at John and John’s flashed back. Sensing a battle still
brewing, the hostess reached out and touched Kate’s pubic hair with her
fingers. Kate started. Wine spilled down her chin and fell in drops
onto her blouse. The hostess ran her fingers freely through Kate’s bush
and then tugged on its springy hairs, invitingly, as if to ask Kate to
follow her to bed.
No one else saw, except John who was standing right next to
her. Ken had turned away. The young male defeated by the older, vowing
revenge. As Kate withstood the hostess’s exploration of her private
hair, she passed her hand across to John to steady herself. As it
happened her hand fell upon his crotch. And no wonder, it was sticking
out quite markedly, offering an easy handhold for searching female
fingers. Kate gripped it, only to keep her balance as the hostess’s
fingertips explored her. But in gripping it she felt it rise, bulge
more. John’s cock stiffened and she wondered absently if he was issuing
pre-cum into his underpants. She felt her own dew moisten her
cuntlips. The hostess wet her fingertips on Kate’s sex and then, after
bathing in Kate’s excitement for a moment, withdrew. The hostess put
her fingertips to Kate’s lips.
“You are wet,” the hostess said to Kate. She made Kate taste
herself and passed her fingers around Kate’s lips, glossing them with
the dew from her cunt, a kind of natural lipstick.
Jealously Kate watched as Ken was engaged by another female.
She had a very short miniskirt and long black boots on. Her top was a
midriff that showed her belly. She had seductively innocent pigtails,
created by bows tied into her hair. Openly she offered her hand to
Ken’s crotch. He let her massage his thing.
The crowd was growing more physical in its admiration of one
another. Hands that had heretofore remained quiet now whispered over
breasts and delved between legs. The men became visibly uncomfortable
in their pants as their cocks grew huge and had noplace to go. The
females all sprouted nipples, those with thin blouses, while Kate
guessed the others were just as excited but restrained by their bras.
Men and women who had not known each other’s names an hour
before now kissed, openly, in front of their wives or girlfriends or
husbands. Kate watched as Ken’s fly was unzipped and the woman in the
black boots drew him out to his full length. Nobody seemed to mind that
his penis was on display. A jewel of precum at the tip of his rod,
where he might have peed if he wished, issued forth. It grew heavy on
the tip of his cockhead and drooled in a long drop to the floor. The
woman in the boots smiled at Ken. She rubbed his shaft and invited him
to cum in her hand if he wished.
‘You are young,’ her eyes seemed to say. ‘You have plenty and
I know you can go all night. Don’t torment yourself with your
abundance. Spurt it out if you wish to.’
Though she was no older than Ken the young woman in the boots
seemed to have a taste for decadence far beyond what Ken was used to.
His eyes expressed shock that she would take him this far this quickly,
right in front of everyone, with the others still petting and kissing.
The girl in the boots simply smiled reassuringly. Helpfully she cupped
her other hand under his cockhead, while still rubbing his shaft.
Ken tried to step back. He didn’t want to lose himself so
quickly.
“No!” the girl in the long black boots said sharply to him, as
if he were a randy dog. Except she wanted his sperm. She did not have
a desire to push him away, as a female might, finding a dog rubbing up
against her leg. Instead, she wanted to see him satisfied. She clung
to the root of his penis with her fingers, while still offering a
cupping place for him to spurt with her other hand.
Kate, still having her lips lightly rubbed by the hostess, one
hand rubbing her mouth while the other sought between her legs, watched
Ken and prayed he held on to himself. As she prayed she felt her own
legs offer a new sprinkling of dew. And Ken, not knowing of her own
offering, suddenly jetted his sperm into the hand of the girl wearing
the boots. She frisked his stiff rod and accepted his liquid manhood
into her palm. Ken looked down at himself. He was clearly embarrassed
by his eruption but there was nothing he could do now. All was lost, or
gained, for his face puffed with pleasure as he spurted himself into the
girl’s hand. She rubbed him until he had no more to give. Then, as if
to tease him, she lifted her cupped palm to her mouth and quietly licked
at his profusion. Ken watched as she fed upon his seed. It made her
mouth gooey and sticky. Her tongue became coated with what had been,
just moments before, in his balls.
Kate arched her hips forward. She offered her slit to the
hostess’s questing hands, so inspired was she by Ken’s offering. She
opened her mouth and sucked in one of the hostess’ fingers.
“Mmmm, yes little sweet, are you excited?” the hostess asked
Kate. She still didn’t know the woman’s name, yet she now had one of
the woman’s fingers in both her pairs of lips. Kate tried to fuck
herself on the inquiring finger at her dell. The hostess drew it back a
little, teasingly, not letting Kate have it. She lifted her hand and
pried Kate’s lips apart and withdrew her finger from Kate’s mouth.
“I want marks like you have,” the hostess said to Kate.
“Come.” She drew Kate along, crossing the room, with her bottom bulbing
out of her tight-fitting dress. Wherever Kate went, John was sure to
follow. He watched with admiration as the hostess led him and his
slave. He had a choice of bottoms, one marked, one unmarked, and his
penis stood up in his pants as best it could, snarled in his underpants
but nonetheless presenting a clear picture of his manliness.
There was a curtain and the hostess drew it open. Kate had
thought it to be a curtain hiding a window. But instead it proved to be
a small alcove, built into the wall, perhaps for the purpose of housing
a television. There was no television there, however, but instead, on
empty shelves where a T.V. and VCR and discplayer might have stood,
there was an array of sex toys. Kate gasped as she saw fake penises
displayed on a shelf. They were various sizes and they looked to her
like missiles waiting to be put into silos. There was a pile of
condoms, all unwrapped and waiting like coins. Some were red and some
blue and some clear. Beside the pile of condoms was an assortment of
bottles. One said ‘KY’ and another, ‘vaseline,’ and others had brand
names on them. But all served one purpose: to lubricate inaccessible
places so they could be more easily entered.
“Help yourself, everybody,” the hostess invited. Several
riding crops waited and the hostess selected one, a particularly thin
one which Kate knew would leave sharp marks. She pressed it into Kate’s
hand and looked at John.
“I want her to beat me,” she said to John. “Right on my
bottom. And I want you to watch, and play with yourself while she does
it.”
“You don’t want me to flog you?” John asked.
“no,” the hostess replied, her voice so soft it was barely
audible. She gulped. Then she continued, “You would be too gentle.
She is inexperienced and she will make it hurt more.”
“But your bottom is...” John said, passing his hand behind her
and feeling what she was offering him.
“No prettier than hers, and look how you marked her,” the
hostess replied to John.
“Yes, but she is new and must be trained,” John answered. “I
was simply training her, so she can know what a man might do to her if
she surrenders herself to someone who is truly a fiend for it, you know,
someone she meets dancing by herself in a club. And I didn’t do her,
Melinda did, and women are always harder on each other than even the
worst of us men. Still, it wasn’t too bad, hmmm?” he glanced quickly at
Kate. She lowered her eyes submissively, liking the attention her
bottom was getting. It was the subject of conversation at an elegant
party and she knew people could overhear his question to her as the
guests crowded around to help themselves to the sex toys.
“It hurt,” Kate pouted. “It still hurts... a little,” Kate
continued. “Especially if I sit down.” She felt marvelously spoiled
and her pussy was wet and she licked her lips and tasted herself.
Bondage was strange, she thought. It made you feel yourself in new
ways, especially in your private parts. She’d lain with boys before,
but she’d never felt so aware of her bottom, her breasts. She longed to
have teeth applied to her nipples and to be made to scream. She wanted
to feel her belly invaded and she felt a need to have something inserted
into her ass. Anything, it didn’t matter. She wanted to give herself
up, to be taken and pried open and filled. She would be a receptacle,
like the hand of the girl with the boots, except she would keep what was
put into her, forced into her, and she would incubate it.
NAKED AT THE NEWSSTAND
by holy joe
Club, December 1998, $5.99. Club Magazine, P.O. Box 133, Mount Morris,
IL 61054.
Review: My respect for this magazine continues to grow. At
one time I regarded the Club family of magazines (Club, Club
Confidential, and Club International) as little more than trash. The
magazines showed men with their dicks hanging out and women, not always
attractive, having sex.
Then I noticed that I was liking Club Confidential, and usually
buying it. After that I noticed I was starting to buy Club
International too. Club itself remained boring, until recently, when it
too started to improve.
This issue of Club is the best yet. It has many great
pictorials. First, little Nikki, who is a blonde, shows off her bare
bottom and sucks her thumb. Then little Nicole, who is a brunette, sits
on the potty, plays with yogurt, and pokes herself with a banana. In
addition, there is a breathtaking pictorial titled, “my girlfriend wants
to fuck you...” It features a blonde, lying on her belly, on a bed,
masturbating herself as a brunette lies atop her. Behind them both is a
man, who has his choice of snatch!
Someone reading this review might say, “What a bunch of smut!”
But, having looked at quite a few men’s magazines in my life, I can tell
you that most are not this creative. They just basically show some
girl, posing naked. It takes quite a lot of thought and good
camera-work to make pictorials like the ones in this issue of Club!
And there are still more pictorials, besides the ones I’ve
listed. Janine squirts herself with a sperm-filled ketchup bottle. Two
blondes undress each other and play on a bed, both wearing frilly white
socks. There is a report on anal sex, in which a woman writes: “One
minute she was down between my legs licking my clit and pussy, the next
she was licking his cock as it pistoned in and out of my ass and told me
what a nasty little slut I was. She never strayed too far from my
asshole for too long, though; that girl just loves to see me get my
butthole plugged! I love seeing her take it, too, and you can bet that
she took it and then some that night.” (The page numbers are few and
far between in Club, in case you’re wondering why I’m not listing them!)
Although Club, Club Confidential, and Club International are
distributed at all the newsstands, you rarely see them anymore. They
sell out very quickly. You will need to subscribe to these magazines if
you want to be sure to get all, or even some, of these issues.
Playboy still tries to be a “literary” magazine. Penthouse is
rather like a tabloid with too many photos. Hustler has interesting
cartoons and articles about sex in America. But if you need to jack
off, turn to the Club family of magazines!
Through the Looking Glass
by Linda Rose
He spoke on the phone with a sexual tone, it was subtle at first, then
it escalated to an incredible climax that I thought I would burst!
Through the power of suggestion he spoke in a whispering, hypnotic,
voice, in which I let him by my own free will and choice.
As he broke through to the very core of my subconscious, I transformed
from Madonna to Whore with my legs spread and on my haunches.
My breath became short and fast, as I finally broke all of my sexual
inhibitions at last.
I tried to stifle the raging fire, but there was an insatiable need to
feed my sexual desire.
I felt damned to eternal sin, as I resisted the battle from within.
My mind said no, my body said yes, a conflict of interest at its best.
As I slid my fingers into the unknown, he persuaded me with his voice on
the phone.
He spoke of wild, lascivious, fantasies and instructed me on what to do.
I followed his orders, gliding down ever so slowly to my private
quarters.
I spread my legs wide and my body pulsated when I felt the moist,
softness inside.
I felt more and more content the deeper I went.
The further I got the harder it was to stop.
The longer I knelt, the better it felt.
My legs stiffened, my muscles contracted, and all of my ligaments seemed
to have reacted.
As I was about to learn, I was getting closer to the point of no return.
I arched my back and writhed and wriggled in sexual delight, cumming
from the mirror image that was in front of my sight.
(Though this poem might make a good song, it shows clearly what’s wrong,
with trying to rhyme, within every line. - h.j.)
AND IN THE END...
“Montel Williams... asked a sexually adventuresome teenage
bride, ‘What is it about pain that makes you feel good?’ ‘I can’t
explain,’ she replied, adding rhetorically, ‘Why do you like chocolate
pudding?’”
TIME, March 11, 1996, pg. 65.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 405 EMISSION
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