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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 412 Passions Playpen NND g2
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STOP THE SMUT !
Holy Joe’s Plan to Clean Up America
by holy joe
Yesterday I was sitting in the hospital. (No, it wasn’t a
mental hospital.) There was a mother nearby, and she had a 7-year-old
daughter. They had a big fight. The fight was over whether or not the
daughter could look at TIME magazine.
“There’s nothing bad in it, mommie!” the daughter insisted,
avidly perusing the magazine’s pages as fast as she could.
“All magazines have something bad in them,” the mother
replied. She forced her daughter to stop reading TIME.
Such a pity it is, when a mother must use force on her
daughter, to keep her from browsing magazines in a hospital’s waiting
room! As Larry Flint himself has boasted, “Starr...has ‘done what I
could not do in a quarter-century: make pornography more widely
available.’” (TIME, October 19, 1998, pg. 58.)
What to do?
Actually, the answer is simple. What America needs is the very
thing it once had. A king.
Have you heard this phrase? “The king can do no wrong.”
There’s a reason for the phrase. It means that, no matter what
the king does, no “special prosecutor” can flood the land with smut,
polluting the minds of our precious children, in an attempt to depose
him.
So, America needs a king. Of course, the question arises, who
shall be king? Obviously we wouldn’t want the guy at McDonald’s to be
king. Unemployment is at an all-time low. If he became king, there
might be no one to stand in the drive-thru window! And of course we
wouldn’t want your son’s soccer coach to be king. Who, then, would
coach him? And so it goes for policemen, and engineers, and doctors.
Now in my case, in regards to this dilemma, I happen to be in a
highly fortuitous position. Despite employment being at record levels,
I myself am unemployed! Admittedly, I do ‘employ’ myself by going
around digging in people’s garbage for aluminum cans. But given that
some guy shot at me last week, I suppose that sort of ‘employment’ isn’t
particularly valued.
Now I want to assure you that, if I were made King of America,
I would conduct myself according to the highest principles. Already I
am doing research on this subject, to see what the job of King entails.
Let us open our Holy Bible to the book of Esther for guidance:
“Let there be sought out for your majesty beautiful young
virgins; let your majesty appoint commissioners in every province of
your kingdom to assemble all these beautiful young virgins and bring
them to the... capital. ...The girl who is most acceptable to the king
shall become queen.” (Esther 2: 2-4.)
Of course. The job of a King, above all, is to choose a
queen. Fair enough. I’m sure it will be tough to pick one, given how
many beautiful girls there are in America, but I assure you that, since
the Bible requires it, I will do it.
Now I realize that since most American girls are no longer
virgins after the age of 13, you may have some misgivings regarding all
this. Imagine how the White House will get beat up, with lots of girls
under the age of 12 running around in it all day! Again, we can find
the solution in our Holy Bible.
In Esther, chapter two, we read that “many girls” are brought
to the capital. There they are placed under the care of a eunuch. He
provides each girl with cosmetics and an allowance of food. Also, each
girl receives training in how to be a proper young lady:
“Six months’ treatment with oil of myrrh, and six months’ with
perfumes and cosmetics.” (Esther 2: 12.)
So in fact your tax dollars would not be wasted, repairing
damage to the White House by rambunctious young girls. Instead, your
money would go toward training these girls in the essential arts every
female must know in any event: how to wear make up and nice clothes,
and be pretty.
In the meantime, I will be assiduously performing my duties as
your king, setting about choosing a queen. We read in our Holy Bible
that it was King Ahasuerus’ job to sleep with a different virgin every
night. This was so he would be sure to pick the very best girl to be
queen. Although it was an arduous task (especially since each girl was
cherry), every night King Ahasuerus fucked a different girl!
Rest assured, America, I am up to the job! Although it would
be harder to de-virginate your daughter than to simply jack off, I am
willing to exert myself, if it will help our country be a better place.
No longer will you have to worry about your daughter getting her hands
on TIME. Instead, she will be in our nation’s capital, in the company
of other girls her age and under the watchful eye of a eunuch, all in
accordance with the infallible word of God as contained in our Holy
Bible.
Amazing, isn’t it? All we really needed to do was return to
the old-fashioned values: a King, and a Bible-based lifestyle. I hope
you will cross off all the candidates on your ballot this fall, when you
vote, and instead, write my name in big letters across the top.
Still undecided? Consider this: who are the two noisiest
groups in America? The fundamentalist Christians, and the feminists.
But with me as king, living in the White House according to the Bible,
the Christians will at last be happy. And the feminists will be happy
too. They will at last have federally funded day-care, and for ‘girls
only’ to boot!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
NAKED girls and more at:
http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Issue No. 412
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Passion’s Playpen
Chapter Nine
There would be a metal pail beneath Kate’s breasts and when she
failed to produce milk she would be punished. Then, the Sultan had
assured Ben, he would impregnate her, and nine months later Kate, like
all the rest of the girls in the barn, would indeed express milk into
the metal buckets, once they’d birthed new children for the Sultan.
“Bring me women who are ready for fucking,” the Sultan had told
Ben, and Ben had agreed. Yet now he had a small delicate girl kneeling
before him, with adorable big bosoms but looking like she should be at
home doing her homework, under her father’s watchful eye. Ben gritted
his teeth and cursed himself for asking Kate to his penthouse. He felt
certain the Sultan would reject her and refuse to do business with him.
In frustration Ben vowed to make Kate pay for what she’d gotten him
into. She’d been so flirtingly dressed and so daring and sexy, he’d
fallen for her instead of picking the right female that the Sultan would
be sure to take.
“She’ll need to be tied,” Ben snapped at his slavewoman. As he
watched her move quickly, he thanked himself for being wise enough to
keep her on his premises. She was in actuality a deeply fiery, tough
and disciplined young woman, who’d joined the Marines but been
discharged by them after they found her too hard to handle. Since then
she’d settled down a little, enough to hold a steady job, provided it
interested her. And she liked helping him run his penthouse. She liked
seeing the girls come in all fresh and giddy, and leave all worn out and
sleepy and walking with an awkward gait. And she liked seeing the young
men, handsome and sure of themselves, full of vigor, only to leave so
exhausted they could barely stand, but smiling, and vowing to return
again after they’d recovered. Ben marvelled at how meek and mild his
slavewoman could make herself. She took a pair of handcuffs down from a
shelf, choosing fur-lined ones though he knew she longed inside to see
Kate bound in raw steel cuffs, without any protection. Quietly his
slavewoman, Gilda by name, approached Kate and took her wrists between
her fingers, holding Kate’s slender wrists delicately as if they were
fine china. Gilda drew Kate’s wrists forward to the bed’s headboard and
wrapped the cuffs around a post in the middle of the headboard. She
locked Kate’s hands in the cuffs. She asked Kate to tug on the cuffs to
make sure she was unable to escape. Kate gulped and complied, Gilda
watched meekly, as if afraid Kate might hurt herself, pulling on the
cuffs with her small wrists bound inside them.
Gilda wasn’t really Ben’s slave, of course. He paid her
handsomely to perform her duties. When they occasionally had sex, real
sex, on their own time, she always insisted on making Ben her slave.
She forced him to beg and crawl like a dog and she insisted on putting
painful clamps on his nipples. She liked trapping his penis and balls
in a latex jock strap that left him no room at all. When he was sweaty
with need and couldn’t stand being penned in anymore, she would cut his
dick free with a sharp knife, ruining the latex jock and always running
the risk of depriving him of his manhood. Then she would ride him with
an awesome power. When she was finished with him he would be so drained
that he wouldn’t even notice that his balls were still trapped inside
the jock. They’d be so depleted it was as if they didn’t exist anymore.
As Gilda bent over the bed, working with Kate, her skirt rose
up in back, showing Ben the underside of her bottom. She had a perfect
ass and it spread its cheeks for him as she bent over the bed. Ben felt
a sudden need to spill and he barely restrained his seed. Gilda had no
panties on. Her sex was visible to him, between her close-pressed legs,
and he longed to thumb open her cheeks and see her hiney-hole. Gilda
kissed Kate’s cheek and told her not to worry and then stood upright
again. Reaching behind herself, she drew down and straightened her
dress. The sight of her restoring herself made Ben want to shoot all
over again, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from
doing it.
“Her legs... do her legs also,” Ben told Gilda. “But open them
first with a spreader bar so I can admire her holes.”
“Yes, master,” Gilda said quietly. He saw her face, so placid,
so obedient, and grinned at her perfect submission. She gave no hint of
her true nature. She went to the shelf on the wall and fetched a
spreader bar and two ankle cuffs, with chain link leads to secure them
to the bed’s baseboard. Returning to Kate, Gilda forced her knees
apart. Ben watched again as Gilda’s skirt scooted up, showing her ass
to him.
Kate seemed a little resistant at having herself spread so wide
and Gilda was forced to slap her bottom to make her comply. The
handprint faded quickly. Gilda had not hit her hard. Kate twisted her
head round and watched as Gilda wrapped each of her ankles in straps.
Then Gilda attached Kate’s ankles to the base of the bed. She put a
spreader bar between Kate’s legs to keep her from closing herself. Ben
stared at Kate’s marvelous bottom and hoped he could make money off
her. He hated training women and housewives. Girls were much more fun,
but the Sultan was a picky fat toad and might reject her for being too
girlish. Her bottom was obviously tight and Ben knew that would be a
problem. He would have to break her in with a series of dildos, until
she could accept the really big dildos that the Sultan liked. Again Ben
cursed himself for choosing such a small girl. It would take a lot of
work to get this slight-bodied little female with her Junior High ass to
take what the Sultan expected her to.
“Give her a drink to make it easier for her,” Ben ordered
Gilda. He saw Kate blanch but he said nothing to her. He would need to
cane her hard, harder even than he wished, to make her ready for the
butt-blistering punishments that he knew the Sultan liked doling out to
his slaves. In the barn, she would be punished daily for refusing to
give milk. Each day a slim-bodied model would sit down beside her and
pump her big, full breasts, but the Sultan would be disappointed when he
saw no milk come out. Then he’d beat her. Looking at Kate, Ben knew
instinctively that she wouldn’t be made pregnant right away, after the
first failure of her breasts to give milk. At least, if he were the
Sultan, he wouldn’t make her pregnant after just one failed milking.
He’d punish her bottom for months, at least. Ben felt himself almost on
the verge of spending again. His mind was awhirl with how he’d have to
train this small girl and make her ready for the Sultan, and with what
the Sultan would do to her once he got her. Would that fat old toad
really impregnate this girl upon her arrival? Or would he keep her as a
cow-pet, as Ben certainly would, trying her breasts every day to see if
they had any milk for him? Ben longed to be the Sultan himself. How
splendid it would be to live in a big Victorian mansion, surrounded by
trees in the vastness of the Arabian desert where no one could
interfere, ever, with his playthings. He’d awaken to the soft touches
of New York models and sport with his big-busted centerfold girls in the
barn, making them behave like cows and never impregnating any of them,
for he liked them too much as they were, unmarried girls. But he knew
that after no more than a month, at most, the Sultan would force Kate
into motherhood and make her pregnant with his Arab seed. She would
bear a son for him, or perhaps a daughter, the daughter to be made to
conform to Arab purity in a chador while Kate herself, the mother, lay
nude in the barn, perhaps pregnant again with another child for her
Sultan master. Ben hated himself for selling her but he owed too many
people too much money not to. He could wind up dead in an alley
somewhere if he didn’t come up with the needed money soon. A younger
man might have played the hero and challenged the odds by saving Kate
from her fate. But Ben was just mature enough to value his own skin
above that of any nubile college girl, no matter how perfect her bottom
and her breasts, and how lovely her face.
COMIC REVIEW
by holy joe
The Man with the Cape, No. 4, $2.00. Digest. Pink cover, 30 pages.
Brian Kirk, Moot Comics, 93 Sunapee Street, Springfield, MA 01108.
E-mail: mootcomics@aol.com Web:
http://www.the-spa.com/bear/moothome.htm
Review: Moot City, imperiled yet again!
This time, the threat is in the form of a large man who wears a
hard hat. His name is “Pummel”. He likes to break things. Buildings,
mostly. He carves a swath of destruction through the city as he
(unwittingly) makes his way toward the building occupied by “the Man
with the Cape”.
Perhaps you remember Marvel Comics. These days, comics
apparently don’t sell too well. But at one time young males regaled
themselves with stories of titanic battles between super-heroes and
super-villains.
“The Man with the Cape,” of course, is a ‘take-off’ on those
stories. If you liked them, or enjoy small press comics, you might like
this issue.
Generally, Brian does mini-comics. This issue was an attempt
to do a full-sized comic. It never was manufactured as a full-size
comic, however, because Brian didn’t have the money.
My advice to Brian is: “Don’t waste your money.” This issue
would not have sold well if it was made into a full-sized comic. The
art is nice, but the story is poor.
Where does this comic go wrong? It gets off to a good start.
The first few pages, where “Pummel” is wrecking the city, are fun. But
then an old man is turned into a ‘super-villain’, not very
convincingly. After that, the story begins to fall apart. You get the
feeling that Brian was just trying to fill pages, in order to make his
tale long enough to warrant a full-sized format.
Please, Brian. Stick to doing eight-page minicomics. Eight
pages, with a funny ending. It’s too bad there’s no way to distribute
minicomics to comic book retailers, but that format is the one in which
you do your best work. Trying to do a long comic is just a waste.
I’d say more, but this review is boring me as much as this
comic book did.
Frayed Page Soaked in Rain
by Will Dockery
In the beginning with this road fever,
silver rose for a brief gaudy hour,
on the peaks with this frayed page,
we parked at the graveyard.
Mugged out summer night,
Cody at the wheel,
Sweatin’ on the road, in this cool scene.
on the moonlit avenue.
Raw, exotic artistry,
illiterate poetics at dawn,
remember her head on my lap.
Platonic blow job, just making things go right.
This is my extra special double album of myth.
These are the poems, archetypes of my life.
We spent the summer nights, naked, crazy, ceiling fans.
In the rain at dark, freshly mowed grass on our feet.
The night is somehow chilly for June,
out of town, out in the pines.
AND IN THE END...
Your Faithful Wife
“In parts of Liverpool, England, blood tests showed that 1 in 4
kids had a biological father other than the father of record.”
- TIME, October 19, 1998, pg. 130.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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-END OF 412 EMISSION
Bible quotes from The Revised English Bible, Oxford University
Press, 1989.
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