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DonÕt Call an Exorcist
IÕM POSSESSED BY THE GHOST OF ELVIS!
I started my new job today. I am now the Official City-Appointed
Sanitation Engineer for Work Lot 211, subparcel b. So, just like everybody
else, I had to get up at dawn this morning, and hustle off on my bicycle
amid morning traffic to the workplace! And I must admit, I felt pretty
good, doing it. While everyone else was jammed in the freeway lanes in
their Ford Aerostars, I just pedalled between the lanes, waving to all the
little girls I saw in all those back seats!
Yes, I did look cool. I was riding my official Schwinn ÒEasy RiderÓ
bicycle, and I was decked out just like Peter Fonda. But when I pulled up
to the construction site the welfare office had assigned me to, a funny
thing started happening. My hips started wiggling! Well, you can imagine
how all those construction dudes laughed at me when I came walking onto
the site, carrying my lunch bucket, with my hips wiggling around like a
girlÕs.
Nonetheless, I kept my chin up. I began my job by distributing my
Anti-Smoking literature. ItÕs not illegal to smoke at the construction
site, but my job involves keeping the site clean by picking up all the litter.
So I figured a little lecture from Butt Man would help my friends in the
construction trade protect their lungs, and my back!
Then, it was time to go to work. First I cleaned out the porta-potty,
then I picked up cans. IÕm not supposed to keep any of the cans, but I stuck
a few in my knapsack and considered it a tip for a job well done. (Plus,
there was an old Hustler in the porta-potty, and I exercised my right to
supervise Site Decency by putting that safely away in my knapsack too.
(You never know when a child might wander onto a construction site!)
Well, anyway, my hips kept wiggling all day. At first, I thought it
had something to do with the loose back wheel on my bicycle. But when I
went home that night, I fell into a deep sleep. Elvis came to me in my
sleep. He told me not to worry if all the construction dudes were laughing
at me.
ÒYou are the only person on the planet who still lusts after 14-year-
old girls, like I once did,Ó Elvis told me. ÒHence, you are the one person on
earth who is closest to me. DonÕt be surprised if your hips start wiggling.
And if you think of a song, contact my manager. YOU are the new Elvis!Ó
Well, I havenÕt thought of any songs yet. This morning I saw a dog
lying in the road and that sort of got me to thinking about dogs, and some
guy told me if he caught me waving to his daughter again heÕd send me to
jail, and that sort of got me thinking about jails, and whether IÕd be
reduced to doing, you know, my Rock career in the jail house, but I donÕt
quite have a song yet. (IÕll keep trying to be more like Elvis, though.
Sooner or later something should catch. Right now IÕm saving up for a pair
of gold pajama pants.)
I guess I should start taking drugs too. ItÕs kinda tough to support a
drug habit with a rubbish collectorÕs job, but maybe if I quit buying porn I
can move up to drugs. Oh, yeah. Guess I gotta start drinking too.
Anyway, ladies (and girls). HereÕs where you can help. Elvis never
paid for sex. So, you know, if you come visit me at my job site, we can
ride my bike over to your place after work and get going on the sexual
aspect of ElvisÕs life. Then you can loan me some of your dadÕs beer and I
can begin to implement the alcohol part. Then, if you know some guy in
7th grade who deals dope, well, tell him IÕll trade him three empty cans
and an old Hustler for some of it.
Oh, yes. Just like Bill Clinton, IÕm starting up a Fund for those of
you who want to help me (and Elvis). If everybody contributes, I can buy a
mansion down south and start living and eating and sleeping like Elvis.
Plus I need a revolver, and at least two T.V.Õs. (One to shoot and one to
watch.) If Priscilla Presley wants to pay me a visit, thatÕs okay too.
See? Already IÕm on my way to being Elvis. (And if this doesnÕt
work, donÕt forget -- IÕm ALREADY the reincarnated Kurt Cobain.)
(Courtney Love doesnÕt need to visit me, though. Elvis was never
interested in fat chicks, even if they do buy a lot of his merchandise.)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 291
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Three
In the guest room, Sherry let me go first. We were being very
modest, but I guessed she wanted it that way. We would only be together
once, according to her rules. She wanted to make the whole thing as
special as possible. I was grateful because it gave me a chance to
reconsider. But, showering alone, feeling my aching tits and my cunt that
was already too excited, I knew there was no turning back. All I could
hope for now was that I would comport myself properly. Or should I say
acquit? After all, we would do it just once, then quit. Perhaps she meant
we would party all weekend, but that would be our only time together.
Soaping myself all over as I considered all this didnÕt help lower my
temperature. I tried turning the shower water to Ôcold.Õ As I shrieked
under the icy spray I think Sherry knew I was still feeling shy.
ÒHurry up. I want a shower too!Ó Sherry scolded me, peeking her
head through the curtain. I screamed again as she saw me naked for the
first time. ÒSilly, weÕre both girls,Ó she said.
ÒI donÕt want to get spanked!Ó I confessed to her.
ÒYouÕll get double whateverÕs coming to you if you donÕt hurry up and
get out!Ó Sherry replied.
I finished up with a renewed sense of expediency. When I got out,
and got a towel wrapped around myself, Sherry let herself into the room
and Jeff was with her. All my thoughts of resisting vanished as I laid
eyes on him. Who could refuse such a big man? He had on plaid shorts and
a polo shirt. Telling myself not to, I let my eyes drop to his crotch. I
swallowed hard. It was bigger than ever, fine and upstanding and
obviously not too comfortable inside his fashionable shorts.
ÒYouÕve got to get those shorts off you, poor man,Ó I said in a
whispery voice. It was a bold, ladylike thing to say, but my voice was high
as a choir girlÕs and sounded quite nervous.
ÒPut this on,Ó Jeff replied. He offered me something that looked like
nothing but string.
ÒFor me?Ó I asked. I plucked at it. It was nothing but string, except
for two postage stamp bra cups and a pair of undies that made a doily look
like a throw rug. He simply nodded. I accepted his gift. I stepped out of
the steamy bathroom. I saw a riding crop lying atop a dresser in the guest
room. It hadnÕt been there when IÕd gone for my shower. Jeff picked it up.
He held it with a familiar grip.
ÒDonÕt worry, I wonÕt look,Ó Jeff told me. He turned his back on me.
I heard Sherry get into the shower in the bathroom and turn on the water.
She screeched as she found IÕd left it, quite by accident, on Ôcold.Õ
Slowly I finished toweling myself off. There was no desire on my
part to rush for a man who was holding a crop! I combed out my hair. I put
on makeup, sitting nude in a chair, making Jeff wait for me. All the while
he obediently stood in the doorway, his arms folded, his back turned.
There was a Picasso on the wall in the hallway with nude women so I
guess he had something to look at, even if they were nothing but sharp-
angles and limbs. I thought the painting was silly, but perhaps he liked it.
Men probably like looking at any naked women they can find.
When I was done with my hair and makeup I resolved to try on my
new gift. I had to struggle just to figure out which end tied where. There
was no elastic anyplace. Sherry took her time in the shower. Perhaps she
was a little frightened of JeffÕs crop herself. At last, feeling queasy, I
got myself all tied and fitted. I looked in the mirror. My hard work had
been for nothing. My bosoms ballooned at me just like before, their
whiteness showing, just my nipples concealed. My pussy seemed half
undressed, the pouch of my panties was so small. And, turning around, I
found there was nothing but a single thread running down my ass crack. Oh
well, I wouldnÕt have to keep pulling THESE panties out of my ass!
My only true consolation was that I saw an identical bikini (if you
could even call it that!) piled on the guest bed. I knew who that was for.
Well, if Sherry didnÕt mind wearing something all stringy and ridiculous
like this, I guess I shouldnÕt either. I admired her. I hoped I could have a
house and a husband this nice when I was 19. Maybe IÕd figure out some
way to make Jeff a polygamist. It sure beat staying home at momÕs and
listening to her play records by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir!
I padded silently up to Jeff. For a moment I just stood there
admiring his build and his muscles. Then, feeling very brave, I reached up
and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around.
ÒOh, youÕre done!Ó he exclaimed.
ÒYou heard me come up behind you,Ó I reproached him. ÒYou just like
staring at those naked ladies on the wall.Ó I smiled.
ÒWell, youÕre a damn sight better than Modern Art!Ó he complimented
me.
ÒI like the Old Masters,Ó I said. I stuck out my lip and pouted.
ÒTheyÕre full of guys... well, you know, Hercules and David and stuff.Ó He
smiled and stuck his thumbs in the strings that supposed they made up my
panties. Playfully he tugged at them, as if to pull them down.
ÒJeff! DonÕt! ItÕs all I have!Ó I shouted, giggling. He relented.
ÒWhich brings me to my next question,Ó I said to him, knowing the answer,
and fearing it a little. ÒWhat else do you want me to wear?Ó
ÒNothing at all,Ó he replied. ÒNothing at all.Ó He smiled and tweaked
the cup that covered my right nipple. I thrust my tits at him.
ÒSir, please donÕt play with the merchandise,Ó I scolded. ÒEven if it
sticks itself in your face,Ó I added with a giggle. He liked my breasts.
They were young and high on my chest and tilted up like presents stacked
under a tree at Christmas. He reached up and lifted my chin with a finger
and offered my lips to himself. He bent down and kissed me. It was light,
like two new friends kissing when the manÕs wife is gone, which was in
fact the case.
When he lifted his face from mine I looked down at his riding crop.
Gingerly I touched it.
ÒThat looks awful,Ó I confessed.
ÒIt feels awful,Ó he replied. I ran my finger along its length. It was
a hard stick of bamboo cut like a cylinder and encased in leather. At the
tip was a loop. I toyed with it. I put my finger through it as if it were a
penis and the loop was my hole.
ÒWhy must we use it, then?Ó I inquired.
ÒI donÕt know. I guess I just like seeing girls hit with it,Ó he
shrugged. I shivered. My spine wobbled and I felt my legs almost drop out
from under me. My ass cheeks, bare except for the single thread running
through them, waggled fearfully.
ÒIÕm so nervous. I have to pee,Ó I confessed. He took me by the
wrist like a doctor might. He seemed to be checking my pulse, but instead
he frankly put his finger under my crotch and felt my cunny. He felt it
through the cloth of my panties, and I felt embarrassed because IÕd already
moistened the thin piece of cloth pressing against me there, with my
juices.
ÒYou didnÕt PEE in your panties, did you?Ó Jeff asked.
ÒNo,Ó I replied. He rubbed me a little. He removed his finger. He let
go of my wrist.
ÒGood,Ó he said. ÒJust hold whatever you have. YouÕll go with my
permission, and not before. Is that understood?Ó I looked up at him. Dare
I say it? I glanced again at his crop.
ÒYes,Ó I said very quietly, with lowered eyes. His finger darted
under my chin and he lifted my eyes to meet his.
ÒYes?Ó he asked. He was frowning.
ÒYes master,Ó I gulped. I forced my eyes down again because I
couldnÕt bear to look at him, despite his finger under my chin. But when I
lowered my eyes from his face I found myself looking instead at his groin!
I was utterly captive and knew it. I raised my eyes again. ÒYes master,Ó I
said again.
ÒThatÕs better,Ó he replied gruffly. ÒWhy do you think I gave you
panties without any seat to them?Ó
ÒSo... Ohhhh, so you can see my bottom?Ó I half-sighed. We were
much more intimate now than weÕd been even a few minutes ago.
ÒTurn around,Ó he said. I gulped and hesitated a moment. Then,
relenting, I turned around so that my uncovered ass showed itself to him.
I could feel its plump curves attracting his eyes and I squeezed my cheeks
in a vain attempt to somehow hide myself from him.
Sherry stepped out of the shower. She had a big fluffy towel
wrapped around her, as if we were all at camp. She walked calmly past
me even as her husband told me to bend over and show him more of my
bottom.
ÒWeÕll go cut some roses out back in a minute,Ó Sherry told me as
she walked past. Jeff roughly told me to bend farther, to touch my ankles
and grab on to them. Confused, I obeyed. We were going outside dressed
like this? With her back to us, Sherry, on the other side of the bedroom
now, dropped her towel. Sure, why not? The thread of her bikiniÕs panties
would, like mine, run through her bottomÕs crack and hide nothing. Only
her nipples would be covered by her bikini, and not much of her pubic hair.
The bikini for her was laid on the guest bed and she picked it up and began
trying to figure it out. I think sheÕd worn one before, because it took her a
lot less time than me. Meanwhile, I was watching her with my hands on
my ankles and my blood rushing to my head. What was Jeff doing back
there? Too late, I turned to look.
WHACK! JeffÕs crop came blasting down onto my behind. My head
shot up and I grabbed my hinds and rubbed them furiously. I danced on my
toes and found Jeff laughing at me, Sherry too, although she at least had
the decency to put her hand over her mouth.
ÒOoooh! OOOOHH! That HURT!Ó I yelped. Flexing my ass cheeks to try
to relieve the pain only made it sear within me again, as if a new stroke
had been laid. I shivered and shook and felt my breasts pop right out of my
top. When I finally settled down Sherry, dressed in her own bikini, came
up to me. Carefully she tucked my bosoms bag inside the nipple-cups that
formed my bra.
ÒIÕm sorry, dear,Ó she said. ÒJeff, that was very rude!Ó she scolded
her husband. It was all very well for her, she was standing on the
opposite side of me. But it made me nervous because I was between her
and Jeff and I still was facing him with my bare bottom! ÒYou know we
have to go out back and cut flowers. How do you think sheÕll feel having
the neighbors see her ass with a big bright red line across it?Ó
ÒI was just showing her why itÕs so important to obey,Ó Jeff replied.
I thought IÕd heard him unzip himself while I was bent over and, looking
again over my shoulder without being interrupted by the impact of a crop
on my bottom, I saw to my heartbeating surprise that he had his cock out!
It was bigger than any IÕd ever imagined. It was almost a tree trunk, and
it was pulsing with a life of its own and had a big bulbous head that
twitched hungrily at me.
ÒWell, itÕs very important to obey,Ó Sherry agreed, nodding. She
looked at me and finished straightening my bra. ÒAlways do just what
Jeff says, right away. The crop will teach you that if you canÕt learn it on
your own, so please do. I donÕt want to see you hurt any more than you
have to be!Ó Sherry told me quite candidly. I felt myself swallowing and
wanted to run. But, looking back from her very serious eyes to JeffÕs cock
again, I resolved to stay. Anyway, we might be beyond my backing out. I
didnÕt want to test my luck and find I had none!
ÒNow weÕre going to go out into the backyard and clip some roses for
our party,Ó Sherry told me. She seemed to want to hurry me past any
thoughts I might have of begging to leave. ÒLetÕs go out to the sunroom
and get some gloves so you wonÕt cut your fingers on any of the thorns.
And boots, too. The sprinkler might have come on in the last half-hour and
I donÕt want your feet to get grass stains on them.Ó Sherry took my hand
and I found myself pulled past Jeff into the hall. ÒAfter all, IÕm in no
hurry to party with a man with a riding crop, are you?Ó Sherry asked me.
ÒNo,Ó I agreed. Jeff followed, but did not interfere or give us any
orders. We walked to the back of the house. There was a sunroom there. I
could see the sun setting beyond the clifftop.
ÒItÕs very beautiful,Ó I said. There wasnÕt much of a view but the
sky was all red and the canyon walls stood up above us, rising into the
sky, already deep in shadow.
ÒThanks. ItÕs our first house,Ó Sherry said. ÒWe want a bigger one
when we have kids. Plus, when we have kids I donÕt want a dungeon in the
house.Ó She picked up some heavy work gloves. She fitted them over my
hands, careful not to break any of my nails.
ÒA dungeon? I donÕt see...Ó I said. I looked around me. There were
just potted daisies and sunflowers in the sunroom.
ÒDownstairs,Ó Sherry said. She got work gloves for herself. ÒI
scream sometimes. Jeff can hit hard.Ó I looked back at him. HeÕd
somehow managed to stuff himself back into his trunks so the neighbors
wouldnÕt see his manhood. I smiled, he didnÕt smile back. He was enjoying
looking severe. At least, I hoped he was enjoying it. If IÕd even suspected
he was serious I would have gone shooting out the door of the sunroom and
climbed (somehow) over the rock wall that separated Jeff and SherryÕs
from their neighbors. After all, I was 14. I didnÕt HAVE to do this! I
didnÕt have to do anything!
AND IN THE END...
ÒHere all we are dealing with is sociopathic behavior that has no
real-world resonance.Ó
- Time, August 18, 1997, pg. 60.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-END OF 291 EMISSION
- ÒGross, I just got a sweaty kiss and a stinky scarf.Ó
(- Newsweek, August 18, 1997, pg. 61.)