Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 130
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bordello Girls
Chapter One
I cry. Like a baby I cry. The strapping ceases. The woman and bride
let go of each other. They move to the maid. Happily they take her hands
and suck on her fingertips. The bride kisses her palm. She finds her
husband there. She laps at the palm like a dog.
ÒI tried to stop him,Ó the maid explains. I envision her, pressing her
palm up to the groomÕs penis tip, trying to hold him in.
ÒYou had an emission,Ó the bride says accusingly to her husband
when she has finished licking him up from the palm of the maid.
ÒNot a lot was lost,Ó he replies. He is still hard. ÒSee?Ó he
explains. He turns, sticks his cock right alongside the manÕs stiff
member. Playfully they whack at each other with their rods only, their
male organs. Boxing as it should be, with their hands restrained, or behind
their backs. ÒI am still as hard as Frank here,Ó the groom explains.
ÒWe are forgetting our babykins,Ó the woman says. She comes to me.
She gets up on the bed behind me and kisses my bottom. Her lips are wet,
lipstick upon them. I flinch as her lips press against my burning ass. Her
kiss, though loving, hurts. I do not want it. I cannot cease rotating my
bottom. I am crying still, softly. She takes hold of my bottom and stills
it. ÒBring cream right away,Ó the woman says to the maid. ÒShe must be
seen to at once.Ó She kisses me again, making me whimper. ÒYou are so
brave,Ó she says. ÒI want you for my own bed.Ó
The woman and the maid spread cream over my painful, burning
hinds. They tickle my cunny with their fingertips. Fortunately I caught
nothing there. The groom, for all his wretched vigor, spared my cunt at
least, perhaps only for the pleasure of his cock.
I hear laughter beyond. The bride is toying with the two men, with
their big things. They stand opposite her, gradually closing in on her. She
does not mind the closeness of their bodies. Suddenly her hands are
grabbed, lofted above her head. Her husband enters her in front as the man
splits her cheeks behind. Soon she is stuck between two prongs, really
stuck, not teasing, impaled upon them and screaming.
I am released. The purpose of my binding is over. I am free to go. I
am not wanted anymore. Or am I? The woman and the maid linger over me
as I put my feet to the floor, stand unsteadily, my hinds aching. The
woman traces the tips of my nipples, hard as coral. The maid explores my
belly button with her finger.
The woman licks cream from my nose. My pug nose, child-like, elfin.
ÒLetÕs rinse away that icky icing thatÕs all over you,Ó the woman says
gently. She wishes to see my face, does not want to have to lick me clean
herself to see it. She has seen my bottom, my cunt, but not my face,
unless downstairs. Perhaps she came late to the party.
I am half led, half carried to the bathroom. The bride and groom do
not mind that we use their master bathroom. They are too busy making
honey and sperm mixtures, concoctions that produce babies nine months
later. Where will I be in nine months? I sense that I am embarking on
some new life. I am leaving the shores of childhood behind, though I am
wanted indeed for the fact that I still have both feet planted in the very
shallowest water. Up to my ankles only, my cunt still untried. My
bottomhole? I do not wish to think such thoughts. Dirty thoughts. What
men do to women in the privacy of their bridal bedroom.
The water is turned on. I am pushed inside. White I go in, still half-
pure at least, but the water hits me. Suddenly I am quite naked, the cream
half-remembered only, running quickly away in white rivulets. The maid
in her dress watches, the woman half-undressed, her breasts bare, shaking
with her every movement, her dress hiked up under her waistbelt, then
half-repaired. Her hair still lovely, a bit mussed perhaps, no more. Long
dark hair, Vampire hair. The maid has chestnut locks, girl hair, streaked
with gold and tumbling down over her shoulders. A bit unkempt but no one
minds. All young girls take little thought in their hair, knowing its very
unkemptness attracts menÕs eyes. Or do they know? Perhaps it is their
unknowing that attracts the Calvins and Lewises, the Chaplins. Their very
unknowing that their beautiful unkempt hair, flowing freely, half-combed,
is the very essence of their beauty on such a small, slender figure.
I am free in the shower. I stay under the spray. I do not want to
leave it. It is warm, womb-enclosing. I laugh as the water hits me. It is
enough. My friends are waiting. Strangers are waiting to have their way
with me.
My arm is taken. I am pulled from the shower by the woman. She
pats me dry, admiring my figure. The maid helps. The woman walks away
briefly, opens a drawer. All is in waiting there. For the bride. A dog
collar is taken from the drawer. Meant for her, perhaps, now for me
instead. The woman takes a second. A spare. His and hers, perhaps.
The woman lifts my chin with her finger. My large blue eyes look
into her dark ones. Softly she buckles the dog collar around my throat.
She has to go to the last hole, my throat is so slim. She checks its
tightness. ÒI am Sylvia,Ó she says to me, my new master, claiming me. A
dog must know its masterÕs voice, and her first name too at least.
ÒIÕm Jennifer,Ó I reply. Have I given consent? I do not want to.
ÒYou are a good girl, Jennifer,Ó the woman replies. ÒAn exceedingly
good girl. You do not deserve what IÕm going to give you. But it is in love
only that I give it. Remember that always. No matter how much it hurts,
remember that I only give it in love.Ó She kisses me. I bite my lip. I do
not know what to say. I am hungry below, my nipples are sticking out
beyond belief. I feel an emptiness and I want it filled. Now. Today. I
wanted the groom but he has spent many times now, I guess, from the
cries of pleasure I hear coming from the bedroom. There are others below.
Unclaimed cocks, I pray. I want one. I would traverse the fires of Hell at
this moment to claim one for myself, to quench the fire within me. Deep
in my womb it burns and no water will put it out. Only male-milk, pumped
deep within by a lusty stallion. I sense the woman will ensure I do not go
without.
The maid is fussy. She is younger than me, less willing. Trembling I
stand in my nudity as Sylvia locks the collar on the maid. It was her last
act with me, padlocking my collar with a tiny silver lock. I desire Sylvia
to be with me. She will protect me in my quest, though she may plunder
me. I cannot go downstairs by myself. The men are huge, big-chested,
though some have more aristocratic proportions. Slimmer in build, they
make up for the loss in increased fire, depravity. I would fall victim to
the first one, be he swaggering workman or slim Dracula. I must let the
woman choose.
A coldness. I am awakened from my thoughts by Sylvia. She is
squirting cold cream onto my injured hinds. Smoothly she rubs it in as I
jerk. ÒThere. You must not be without your protective coating,Ó she says
to me. I wonder if she wanted simply to caress my bottom cheeks again. I
look in the mirror. My ass is shiny. I gasp at the bright swathing marks
emblazoned across it. Here and there, stung by just the tip of the belt,
there are deep red dots. Elsewhere I bear long imprinting strokes, where I
was repeatedly hit in the same place again and again. I am not injured
deeply, though. I sense the marks will quickly fade.
ÒCome, we must show you off downstairs, to let people see what a
good girl youÕve been,Ó Sylvia tells me. My bottom is a trophy. It must be
seen before the marks of my exploits fade. I am to be admired for my
girlish courage. ÒBe proud,Ó she says, lifting my chin for me. ÒYou are not
a child anymore. You are well-formed now, ready for bedroom combat.
Jousting with the male, and serving his wicked pleasures. It is a time of
blossoming. When you are old no one will care for your bottom. It can be
whipped or not whipped, they will not care. If you drop your drawers they
will think you only a crazy old lady. But while you are young, with the
friskiness still in you, or the demureness of maturity, with your bottom
drum-tight or well filled out from additional years, now is the time you
are coveted. Come, I will see that you get the very highest price for your
charms.Ó She placed a hand on my belly. She felt its soft swell. She held
her hand there, as if feeling for a deeper fire. I bent forward, licked up
the length of her arm. I was too hungry for words. I trembled. Were it not
for her I would have gone running home at this moment, I knew, too scared
of myself to stay.
Sylvia went quickly to a closet, returned. Pretty girls only come in
certain sizes. She presented me with shoes, knelt and slipped my feet
into them. Queen Charming with her princess. I hoped for more, panties
perhaps, but none were offered.
ÒYou cannot show off your bottom downstairs with your dress like
that,Ó Sylvia told the maid. Sulkily the maid watched as Sylvia pinned up
her skirt in back. The maid wore no drawers. She was permitted none.
Marla had designed her costume. The maid shifted. She did not want her
bottom bared. She liked her skirt, flapping over her bare hinds, concealing
and revealing them. She did not want to be totally exposed. ÒThe party is
too far progressed for you to stay as you are,Ó Sylvia told her. I felt as if
we were being instructed by an indulgent den mother. She simply told us
the facts, with loving, tender care. GirlsÕ bottoms must be shown at this
hour. ÒYes, and your titties also,Ó Sylvia said to the pouting, restless
maid. Heedless of the consequences, Sylvia unceremoniously ripped the
maidÕs bodice open. The uniform was unusable now, its fabric torn.
Amidst the gaping hole created by SylviaÕs strong, long-nailed fingers
spilled the maidÕs breasts. They were creamy and white. Too big for her
age. Her nipples showed why she stayed. They were stiff as thorns. I
longed to puncture my thumbs on them. Girls feel affection for each other
at moments like this. We were going downstairs, down to the men. We
would go down girls, children really, and return as women. Sylvia would
see to our breaking-in. She would see that it was done properly.
The maid and I exchanged glances. We both gulped. She looked
delightful with her bottom bared in back, and I knew I was a treasure too,
balanced atop my new high heels. We both clenched our asses at the same
time, twin horses, thoroughbreds, awaiting the start of a race. Sylvia
brought leashes, tethered us with them. She drew out the length of them
and turned. I looked down. In a pile on the floor was the white rope that
had secured my neck earlier. Now I was more valuable, deserving an
actual collar and leash. In back my hair was still bound by a second rope,
perhaps to tempt the men downstairs. Suddenly I was yanked. I nearly
lost my balance. Sylvia beckoned with a no-nonsense tug on my leash.
Together with the maid I stumbled from the bathroom, past the rutting
bride, and into the hallway beyond.
Downstairs all was in chaos. MarlaÕs ornate ballroom had been
wrecked. Amidst the confusion of tables and chairs pushed aside, spilled
wine and tossed plates of cake, were the remains of the guests. Many
were naked, others half-clothed. Some writhed in lust still, or perhaps
lust reawakened. Others simply rested, enjoying the spectacle, enjoying
the glowing pleasure of their own spent loins. Into this detritus of a
once-formal party we tread, like little princesses, our sweet bottoms
showing and our breasts bobbing before us, large and apple-round, big as
melons.
I glanced about. All eyes were upon me. I felt like a slave at
auction. Sylvia walked slowly, as if parading me, the maid beside me, as
curious as I was. Perhaps it was her first party. Or perhaps not. We girls
are a curious lot. In any case it was obvious she had not been seen by this
group before. And she, in her shyness, could not have seen too much, I
guessed. I tried to walk with a stately tread, dignified, the lady I soon
hoped to be. Like Sylvia. I tried not to wriggle my bottom about as I
walked, truly tried, but I couldnÕt help myself, it hurt so much. For her
part, the maid rolled her hips salaciously. She was a little girl walking
home from school, newly-learned in the art of rolling about her bottom as
she walked. Making perverts of the men who drove past her. She was
naughty. She wanted to make a spectacle of herself in front of all the
jealous ladies and their husbands.
ÒThey must be whipped,Ó I heard a woman, just spotting us, say to
another, imputing the maidÕs naughtiness to me also.
ÒShe has already been,Ó the other replied, pointing. My bottom,
blazing hot still, wobbled atop my slim thighs as I tread in my pumps.
ÒAh, she got a good one!Ó a voice I could not place.
ÒIt did not help, though,Ó the first woman responded, still hating me.
ÒWhat a lovely pair of arses!Ó A man. He watched as I walked with
jiggling cheeks, my heinie sore, scored. The maidÕs was utterly white,
unblemished, dancing about, inviting attention.
With modest yet inquisitive eyes I evaluated the men. All had
generously proportioned cocks, or they would not have been invited. I felt
a sudden urge to lick all their lollipops, knew they would relish making me
do so. Some stood, masturbating freely as they watched us pass. One in
particular caught my eye. He was young, two older women lying at his
feet, as if passed out from his exertions. He had a strong chest, broad
shoulders. A heavy sac of balls hung under his well-hung cock. He rubbed
himself uncaringly, as if the sperm, shooting out at any moment, would
cost him nothing in terms of his strength.
MUSIC REVIEW
by holy joe
Gumhead, $1.00 postpaid. Brian Kirk, Gumhead, 93 Sunapee St.,
Springfield, MA 01108. gumhead123@aol.com
Review: Somebody recently posted on a.s.s. that it is a newsgroup
for ÒAdults to talk to Adults.Ó And I couldnÕt agree more. The same is
true with this e-zine. ItÕs for Grownups only! (Just like those inedible
Starchburger Deluxes at McDonaldÕs.) I want to make it perfectly clear
that no children are to read this e-zine. In fact, I was going to call it
FUCK CHILDREN but I was afraid that somebody might, you know, get the
wrong idea.
Lately I have been having a problem with my boogers. When I pick
them out they look all green and slimy. I was wondering, could this be
because IÕve become a vegetarian? I sat down on the toilet to write a
letter to Ann Landers and, when I pooped, I noticed that my turds were
averaging less peanuts than usual. So I am wondering if thatÕs due to me
becoming a vegetarian too.
The next time somebody tells you to eat less meat, ask them if it
will turn your boogers all green and make you quit having peanuts in your
turds. Peanuts are important in a manÕs turds. Lots of them means heÕs
very manly, while girls have no peanuts at all in their turds. I once
verified this latter fact by sneaking into the girlÕs bathroom and looking
in all the toilets. There were three turds present, in two toilets, and none
of the turds had any peanuts in them! (I even fished them out of the toilet
and dissected them to make sure.)
I wouldnÕt be interested in being a vegetarian except that this lady
at the health food store told me it would increase my sperm count. I do
have a lot of sperm already but I wouldnÕt mind being more spermy. Maybe
it will help me get a date, which IÕm not too good at. On the other hand, it
might just keep me in my dumpster more, jacking off. That wouldnÕt be
too good. My Internet Service Provider might like having me sit in my
dumpster all day and jack off, but IÕm worried about doing that. I mean, if
everybody like me just sits around all the time and jacks off over smutty
pictures on the Internet, what happens when some girl needs to call 911
because she thinks sheÕs been molested? Why, it might take her 30
seconds to get a dial tone! Imagine that! So I figure itÕs better if I try to
increase my sperm count and get a date. Then I can get some girl pregnant
and increase the number of holy joes in the world!
One thing we could also use more of in this world is good bands. And
I think I might have found one. They sent me their debut tape some time
ago but I hesitated playing it. After all, have you heard of Gumhead? Me
neither. But, after a long delay (several months, in fact) I finally broke
the cellophane wrapper and played it.
Whoa! This band is pretty good! I liked the third song best. ItÕs
titled, ÒDoctor Doom.Ó This may be a tribute to the Marvel comics villain
of the same name. The first time I played GumheadÕs tape I did the dishes
and stuff like that. But the second time, I turned out the lights and
listened to it, so I could have a Ôcomplete aural experience.Õ You know a
band is pretty good if IÕm willing to turn out the lights (which means I
canÕt see my Playboys and Penthouses) and listen to them!
GumheadÕs music is alternative in style but the lead singer sounds
like heÕs straight out of the 80Õs. In my opinion, Gumhead needs a stronger
lead singer.
Let me tell you how to make a (male) band successful. You need to
sing love songs. They donÕt have to be wussy songs. Gavin of the group
Bush is basically singing love songs. Jim Morrison of the Doors was
singing love songs. All you need to do is have a strong lead singer who
sounds like a ÔPassionate Male in Need.Õ Picture a lone wolf on the edge of
town howling for love. Now add in some bad-ass guitars. Bingo! YouÕre on
MTV. Just like that. But your lead singer has to be strong and he has to
carry the song. He canÕt just pop in and out of the song, now and then.
HeÕs got to be right there, through the entire song, saying, basically, ÒIÕm
so handsome but IÕve got nobody to love.Ó That will sell records.
Of course IÕve got nobody to love, so if youÕre in need of a singer you
can always have me join your band. But I donÕt think weÕd be too
successful if I stood out on stage. I mean, can you picture a 5Õ3Ó guy with
a big cowboy hat and a 2Ó penis sweeping the girls off their feet, even if
he does need love? I doubt it. But, IÕve got a solution to that problem. We
could call the band ÔThe Invisible Man.Õ I could hide in the john and sing
from there. Except for the occasional toilet flush the music would sound
pretty good, in my opinion.
If you like new bands, give Gumhead a try. The tape has white
lettering printed on it, just like a real tape, and the packaging says the
tape was ÒRecorded at Wildwood StudiosÓ and was ÒEngineered by Jeff
Patterson.Ó You never know, Gumhead may make it big someday, and this
debut tape will be very valuable. (Hey, with holy joe recommending them,
theyÕre sure to make it!)
AND IN THE END...
COPS, THIS ONEÕS FOR YOU:
Granny Sex, VHS, $24.95. ÒHARD, explicit and graphic. Women over 40,
and 50, and even over 60! Some are fat... all are experienced and dirty.
These are the horniest grannies in Europe and theyÕre out to prove it!
TheyÕve had years of sexual experience.Ó
- V.C. Enterprises, 627 Forest Road, London E17 4NE.
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 130 EMISSION