Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 167
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Puppy Love
Chapter One
ÒWould you spread your legs for me?Ó she asked. I complied. She
stood, walked to her desk. She returned with a little pencil-shaped
flashlight. She knelt between my legs. She opened my cuntlips and flicked
on the flashlight. She peered into me.
ÒYou have a nice pussy,Ó she said finally. She let go of my private
lips, my softness, my most secret place. ÒSorry, but I had to check. YouÕll
be using it a lot, you know, on your assignments. Would you pull down your
blouse for me?Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I answered. I yanked it down, felt my boobs pop out. I
looked down and saw my nipples were sticking up, hard and ready. The
woman put her hands to them. She palped them. She squeezed them
firmly, like they were melons. Her thumbs tweaked my nipples.
ÒGood,Ó she said. ÒNo breast cancer or anything, and theyÕre natural.
Our customers will like that.Ó She picked up my clipboard, her clipboard
now, and wrote on it.
ÒWhat sort of assignment would you like?Ó she asked. She looked at
me. ÒYou can pull your skirt back down,Ó she smiled.
ÒOh yeah,Ó I answered. I repaired my clothing. ÒI guess, well, IÕd
like an assignment...oh, something challenging.Ó I said. She grinned.
ÒKimberly says youÕve spent the last two months being bored to death in
an office.Ó
I nodded.
ÒWell, I think I might have just the thing for you,Ó she told me.
***
He was an older man. ThatÕs what the woman had told me, anyway.
It was late afternoon. The sun had about an hour of life left before it
would sink back beneath the horizon. IÕd dressed conservatively. I
assumed he had conservative tastes, given his age. I had no idea what heÕd
do with me, but the woman had hinted I might be surprised.
I knocked at the front door of a large home. A woman in an evening
gown answered.
ÒOh, you must be the young lady from the agency!Ó she smiled at me.
I nodded. ÒPlease do come in, weÕve been expecting you,Ó she invited.
ÒSorry IÕm a little late. I got lost driving over,Ó I grinned
sheepishly.
ÒYouÕre not too late, nothing that canÕt be accounted for,Ó she
answered. I wondered a little at her answer, followed her into the
interior of a large, lavishly decorated home. Fine art hung on the walls.
Curtains of lace shrouded the large bay windows. Sumptuous furniture
beckoned, but she drew me on, leading me through the house. We stepped
out back. I saw a lawn, garden furniture, and other guests, all in evening
clothes, the women in shimmering dresses, the men in tuxedoes.
ÒHere is Barbi, from the Agency,Ó the woman called. She introduced
me to the other guests. I was given a drink, sipped it. I met the host. He
was close to 50. His name was Albert. He did not tell me his last name. I
was permitted to chat awhile. Everyone was very pleasant, very polite,
although there seemed to be a bit of tension in the air. The women were
all older than me, though still quite young and pretty. The men were in
their 30Õs and 40Õs. Several told me they were diplomats, from foreign
countries.
ÒCome, dear,Ó the woman who had greeted me at the door said
finally. She drew me over to a the table with the food and punch. ÒWould
you be willing to put on something a little more revealing for us?Ó she
asked. I gulped. I had almost forgotten why I was here.
ÒI-I guess so, I mean, of course, sure,Ó I answered. She opened her
purse. She drew from it a little handful of cloth and strings. ÒYou donÕt
mind being seen in a bikini, do you?Ó she asked. There was a smirk on her
face, as if she were somewhat amused. I heard a woman behind me laugh.
A man cleared his throat.
ÒNo,Ó I answered. I stuck out a finger, poked at the bit of cloth,
received it into my hands.
ÒStep behind the bushes, thereÕs a trellis there, you can hang your
nice dress up,Ó she told me.
ÒOkay,Ó I answered. I felt childish. I took the little bikini,
wandered back behind a stand of rose bushes. I could smell their perfume
on the air. It was sweet. Within their enclosing protection, feeling
precious, I removed my dress. I guessed theyÕd want everything off,
except my shoes. And my earrings, of course. No use taking off those. I
had nice hoop earrings, silver. They matched the silver accents in my
heels. There was a hanger hooked into the trellis. Ivy wove along its top,
along its sides, but the interior of the trellis was bare. It was as if it had
been specially designed for a girl to hang her clothes up on.
I untangled the bikini theyÕd given me. A miniature bra, plus teensy
panties. The parts that were fabric were white and very soft, almost
furry. The rest was nothing but frustrating strings. They all needed to be
tied. Nothing could just be slipped on. Feeling a little frustrated, I got
the bikini tied onto myself. It took several minutes. For all my effort, it
hid very little. I tugged at the bra cups. They were undersized, leaving
the fleshy undercurves of my breasts quite bare and unsupported. I hoped
they wouldnÕt want me to do my cheerleading routines in this. As for the
panties, they were so small in back I knew theyÕd dip entirely into my
buttcrack the minute I started walking. In front, a little triangle of fuzzy
cloth did its best to hide my pubis. It barely managed, leaving all else
quite naked.
I lifted my chin. I told myself to have confidence. This was my first
assignment, and I didnÕt want to blow it. With a toss of my head to give
myself assurance, I stepped out from behind the roses.
ÒAh, how cute!Ó a woman exclaimed. There was a round of applause.
I blushed, walked as straight as I could, was aware of my hips swaying
nicely. My boobies were bouncing almost as freely as if they were
uncontained, and I glanced down to make sure the bra still held them. It
did.
Albert handed me a big straw bonnet, with a ribbon and large bow of
blue silk. I guessed he wanted me to put it on. I did, then spun once on my
heels for him to let him admire me with it.
ÒYou design the most delicious little bikinis,Ó a woman said to
Albert. Ah, he was a fashion designer, I guessed. He smiled. At her, at
me.
ÒThe hat is my design also,Ó he replied.
ÒSo it is,Ó she answered, but her eyes remained on my swimsuit.
ÒItÕs best not to get this material wet,Ó Albert said to her.
ÒNo, but what self-respecting girl swims at the beach anyway?Ó the
woman answered. She stuck out her finger, hooked the front of my
panties. She pulled them open, my bush showed. She let go and the panties
snapped shut. ÒNice pull on the strings.Ó
ÒYes, they have a certain elasticity to them, though not too much,Ó
he replied. ÒThe bikini is mainly for show, as you said, to attract
attention.Ó
ÒSpeaking of which, I know a certain creature who hasnÕt gotten any
attention at all this evening,Ó the woman said. Albert nodded, as if giving
permission. ÒJill, please let out Popeye, its time for his weekly bath,Ó
the woman called. A second woman nodded, disappeared a moment. I
thought nothing more of the exchange, let someone hand me a glass of
sherry and was just sipping it when a small terrier came bounding out
onto the lawn. He startled me by barking at me and made a beeline for the
grass between my heels. He leapt up and sniffed actively at my crotch.
I nearly dropped my glass! It was so mortifying, me in a little
nothing bikini, everyone else lavishly, expensively dressed, with a pooch
sniffing out my pussy as if I were a bitch in heat!
ÒBarbi,Ó the woman with Albert said to me, drawing my attention
from the dog even as he stood and put his paws on my thighs and sniffed
my cunt up close. ÒPlease take your bikini off to keep it from getting wet,
and give Popeye here his bath.Ó Albert handed me a small copper bucket
for bathing the dog. It was empty. He pointed to a marble-topped table
nearby.
ÒYou can wash him there,Ó he said. ÒPopeye expects the very best
treatment.Ó
What could I do? I was embarrassed, but then I couldnÕt say no,
could I? I hoped theyÕd be paying me well for this. I reached down and,
with a grunt, picked Popeye up in my arms, still holding the bucket. At
least in my arms he wouldnÕt sniff my cunt, I figured, but the rude dog
immediately began pawing my breasts. With him struggling, clutching him
as best I could, I walked over to the marble table. I put him gently down
on it. I didnÕt want to just drop him. His owner obviously thought the
world of him. Popeye stood on his four legs atop the table, ardently
sniffing at my breasts, as if I might feed him. Stepping back,
remembering what Albert had said about the bikini, I reached back and
reluctantly untied my top. My breasts spilled free. Popeye showed as
much interest in them as did the guests. My nipples stuck out invitingly. I
kept back from the table so he wouldnÕt try to take one in his mouth.
Next I undid my panties. Again, I felt the eyes of the guests stare
appreciatively, smugly perhaps, as I revealed myself to them, me all naked
while they remained dressed to the nines. Carefully I hung my bikini up on
a little iron railing that formed a fence running behind the table. It
separated a part of the yard from some valuable private vineyard grapes
that grew just beyond; a small collection of grapes that Albert used to
create his own wines.
Bucket in hand, I traipsed across the lawn to a faucet set in the
outside wall of the house. I had not removed my heels. I remembered
KimberlyÕs advice. I bent down, was conscious of my bottom splaying out
behind me, showing all, leaving nothing to their imagination now. The
guests watched me, sipping their drinks. Popeye stood on his table, his
tail wagging furiously. I turned on the tap and filled my little copper
bucket. Then I stood, hefted it, and returned to Popeye. He was eager to
see me. I found that someone had placed a bar of Hartz flea soap on the
table, already unwrapped. I did not see any gloves for my hands. I guessed
I was to use my bare fingers. I tossed my hair. I brushed it from my eyes,
wishing I had barrettes or something to hold it up. The dog watched me. I
saw that he had an erection between his legs.
ÒAlright, Popeye,Ó I said to him, feeling awkward, silly. ÒItÕs time
for your bath, boy, and I want you to behave for me, okay?Ó He was a cute
little critter, I had to admit. I just wished he didnÕt have his thing
sticking out between his legs. I lifted him up. He poked his nose
enquiringly at my stiff nipples. I stood him in the bucket. His legs
separated widely. I could only get one paw in, the bucket was too small
for both, with his antics. ÒCome on, boy, be good and sit in the bucket,Ó I
scolded. But he would not comply. His legs remained wide, he humped his
hips at me, hoping to make contact with his thing.
I set him back on the table. He wagged his tail. The table was low
enough that he could stand and sniff my pubic hair, and he did so with
relish. I picked up the copper bucket and doused him with some of the
water in it. He wagged his little tail, still entranced by my cunny. I
picked up the bar of soap and began rubbing him with it.
ÒAlright boy, itÕs time for your doggie bath, stand still,Ó I ordered
him. I had to let him sniff at my pussy to keep from dancing about on the
table. I rubbed him fast as I could, hoping to finish quickly.
ÒTake your time, dear, he likes lots of loving tenderness,Ó the
woman with albert admonished me. I glanced over my shoulder at her.
ÒAlright,Ó I answered. I rubbed more slowly. Popeye seemed to grin
up at me, pleased with my handling of him. His erection remained quite
noticeable.
I scrubbed away. Popeye wriggled from my grasp occasionally,
making me dash about the table to recapture him. Thankfully, he did not
jump down to the lawn. I worked my fingers deep into his fur and bent
once to rub noses with him, just to keep him from acting up on me. Finally
I rolled him over, and doused him again, then set to work on his ribs and
tummy. He seemed to like this best. He let his legs lie open and didnÕt
fight me as I massaged him generously all over, avoiding only his cock.
ÒDo his balls too, please,Ó AlbertÕs woman told me, seeing I was
missing his thing. ÒAnd his penis. DonÕt mind that itÕs out. Just rub along
it like you would a manÕs. You have washed a manÕs organ before, havenÕt
you?Ó
ÒUh, ummm, yeah,Ó I answered, not sure actually, just trying to
comply. I felt awful, my ass sticking out as I bent over the table, my
breasts dangling down, full and heavy. Popeye brushed them with his
tongue.
ÒDown boy,Ó I said, though he was already on his back. I rubbed his
genitals then, and he wriggled blissfully. He lapped at my breasts. He
ejaculated into my hands.
ÒEwww, yuck!Ó I cried, standing up quickly.
ÒIf your hands werenÕt soapy IÕd make you lick them clean,Ó AlbertÕs
woman told me. ÒHeÕs our favorite dog, and youÕre only here for the night.Ó
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó I replied. God! Eat a dogÕs sperm?! I wanted to run
from the yard right then, but realized I had no clothes on at the moment. A
slight deterrence, to be sure.
I picked up the bucket and poured its remaining contents onto
Popeye, cleansing his genitals. I was going to go get more water when
AlbertÕs woman came up behind me and tapped me lightly in the small of
my back.
ÒKneel up on the table,Ó she said.
I turned my head, my hair flying in a whirl of surprise. ÒWhat?!Ó I
asked. There was a look of shock on my face.
ÒKneel up on the table, doggie-style,Ó she said again.
ÒBut, heÕs...Ó I looked at Popeye. He was on his feet again, all fours,
looking eager and wagging his tail. I saw that his little ejaculation a
moment ago had done nothing to dim the ardor of his cock.
I heard a brief whistle, felt a sudden sting burn itself into my
bottom. I stiffened. The woman had a riding crop!
ÒON the table,Ó she said again. I complied. Fearful, surrounded by
my former friends at the party (or so IÕd imagined them, though weÕd
exchanged only first names), I got on the table. I felt the cold,
uncompromising marble under my hands. Someone moved the bucket away
and put a small pillow for me on the table. Sensing I must, I lowered my
face to it. I grabbed the corners of the pillow with my sperm-sticky
fingers.
ÒOh no, please donÕt,Ó I begged. The woman pressed upon my back,
making my bottom bulb more, offering it to the dog...
I WANT MY C-SPAN 3!
I have written a new letter for those of you who would like to see
C-SPAN 3 added to your local cable system. The channel DOES exist, but
so far no cable system in the country is carrying it. (Except one in the
Washington D.C. area.)
My letter is available at my ftp site: members.aol.com/nnd66
Please feel free to modify my letter and bring it to the attention of
your local cable operator.
ODE TO THE PORNO MAG
Sitting there upon the rack,
Behind gray plastic; warned, held back,
My age too young to have a peek
My penis starting to leak
I look around, is my Love here?
That girl at school I hold so dear
Though to her I am nothing
Yet when I see her my heart sings!
And oh how that blonde head up there,
Peeping up, as if for air,
Behind the plastic shield doth bear
To her resemblance so close, I tear
It from the rack!
I almost have a heart attack!
Flipping wildly, gazing, searching
My heart itÕs burning!
In my pants I am so stiff!
In pain, yet page I on,
Through the photos, skipping articles!
Breasts! Pussies! Bottoms bare!
ÒYoung man, what have you there?Ó
A voice calls out, the turd who is the clerk.
And in the distance, giggling
Cheerleaders! They have seen me!
As I turn to run away
Bolting for the door
ÒI say!Ó It is Ms. Tuppence,
My aunt, a maid, just coming in
At home at dinner there I sit
Life it is a ball of shit
My father lectures, mother cries
Yet only photos fill my mind.
AND IN THE END...
Ò[A] Singaporean... was recently fined $40,000 for downloading porn
from the Internet and owning a copy of Penthouse.Ó - The Economist,
December 21, 1996, unpaginated.
(God bless America -- at least I can jack off here.) -h.j.
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-END OF 167 EMISSION