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                                FIND OUT IF YOUÕRE A REAL MAN
                                    or just a feminist lackey...

YOUR MISSION:  Go to SunCoast Video.  Find the movie Boarding School, 
starring Natassja Kinkski.  Stare at the front of the box.  Can you bear to 
walk out of the store, without buying this video?  (It only costs $4.99.)
         If you can leave the store without this video, you are a feminist 
lackey.  This zine is not for you.  You are the sort of person who got baby 
changing stations put in all the menÕs restrooms.

                                      Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY

                                   Sponsored by:  Crab the dog

                                              Issue No. 333

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                           Dungeon of Desire

                                                Chapter One

         Jennifer was given no leisure.  Colette grabbed her wrists and flung 
them above her head.  Then, obviously a graduate of the Girl Scouts, 
Colette quickly tied JenniferÕs hands to the headboard.  It was made of 
brass and had convenient bars spaced across its length for the purpose, I 
had no doubt, of just such a binding.
         With her arms bound above her head, Jennifer presented her nipples 
involuntarily to Colette.  The woman, so concerned for the health of 
JenniferÕs breasts in the ballroom, now picked up the crop sheÕd brought 
with her and used it to torture JenniferÕs breasts.  She caught the loop at 
the tip of her crop around one of JenniferÕs nipples.
         ÒMy, your breasts are so nice and big even when youÕre lying flat on 
your back!Ó Colette said.  She had nice breasts, but they were not as big as 
JenniferÕs.  Jennifer arched her back, hoping to throw off the woman whoÕd 
mounted her tummy and showed no signs of anything now but utter 
wickedness.  ÒMy, you buck like a horse,Ó Colette said.  ÒYouÕd think 
somebody was going to punish your breasts!Ó  And with that, to a scream 
from Jennifer, Colette began striking her.  The woman brought down her 
crop right on JenniferÕs nipples, each in turn, striking with just the 
leather loop at the tip of her crop.  Each biting blow brought a gasp of 
alarm from Jennifer, followed by a little scream.  ÒTell your nipples to 
quit sticking up like that!Ó Colette scolded.  ÒNaughty!  Naughty!  Naughty!Ó  
Again and again she brought the looped tip of her crop down on JenniferÕs 
poor teats.  Reaching back behind herself with one hand, Colette found 
JenniferÕs spot between her thighs and fondled the girl.  Colette, despite 
her suffering, kept her thighs apart.  Colette would only whip her more 
mercilessly if she tried to close her legs to the woman.
         I, meanwhile, having won a reprieve as John and I stared at 
JenniferÕs plight, suddenly found myself on the receiving end of his cock.  
HeÕd never left me, but had held it within me while we both looked, the 
two of us amazed, for the moment, at the luscious sight of poor Jennifer 
having her nipples whipped.  I pitied her, yet having never seen such a 
thing I found it impossible not to look, and be amazed, and forget, for a 
moment, the bulging presence within the opening of my cunt.  Now, 
however, with renewed strength and energy, John burrowed into me and I 
was forced to open myself to his presence.  
         He was pressure.  He was insistence.  Above all, he was large.  His 
wide cockhead split me like a plum and he stabbed up within me, making 
me gasp, making me take all of him.  I found myself impaled on his dick 
and there was absolutely nothing I could do to rid myself of him.  I bucked 
my hips, but that only let him go deeper.
         ÒDo that again,Ó John told me.
         ÒNo!Ó I gasped.  But he seized my hips more viciously with his hands 
and forced me to buck upon him.  Soon I felt his grip lighten and found that 
I was, indeed, obeying his command.  I couldnÕt stop what heÕd started.  
Biting my lower lip and doing my utmost to receive him without hurting 
myself, I shoved my bottom repeatedly into his groin.  
         He began moving within me.  Not just letting his shaft hammer me as 
I bounced my bottom against him, but actually shoving himself back and 
forth, in deep, long strokes, inside my wetness.  I clung to him with the 
folds of my sex.  My entire form seemed to close on him, tightening my 
grip on him even as I bucked my ass against him and he hammered me with 
his own independent movements.  I raised my face up off the bedcovers and 
felt my bosoms shake underneath me as I held myself up with my palms 
flat on the bed.
         ÒYes!  Yes!  Yes!Ó I blurted.  Jennifer, flat on her back on the bed, 
howled as ColetteÕs fingerings at her spot brought her pleasure.
         John held himself manfully as I gave him my best.  I didnÕt care 
anymore that my mom might appear and see me without my panties on.  I 
rammed my girlish ass against him like a lioness, my golden hair falling in 
my eyes, my bosoms shaking beneath me like abandoned fruit, left to fend 
for themselves in the rising wind of autumn.
         ÒFuck me!  Fuck me with your tit!Ó I heard as Colette, mounting one 
of JenniferÕs pillowy bosoms, tried to force the cone of flesh into her 
cunt.  She could not find release upon JenniferÕs little peaked nipple, and 
soon passed on to JenniferÕs face, where she sat her pussy down on the 
girlÕs gasping mouth.
         ÒMmmmf!  Mmmmmf!Ó I blathered, bucking against my steed.  John 
groaned as, Indian-like, I made my bare waist a thing of vaselike 
movements, back and forth and back and forth and back again, sleek and 
unending in its demands.  Gripped within me, splitting me but yet, 
ultimately, captive to me, John found his huge organ immersed within the 
pleasurable sensations of Need.  The Need that builds and builds until you 
are straining, yearning, eager to cum and yet not wanting to lose it.  I felt 
a tension within my womb, knowing I must release myself upon him, let 
myself ride a great balling orgasm.  And I knew he must feel it too, but in 
his case it must be more desperate still, for his Need would result in him 
losing his precious seed.  Deep in my hungering womb.  Where my eggs lay.  
The eggs that would make him a father.  Had I taken my pill?  In my 
bouncing squirmings I couldnÕt remember now.  Perversely, I hoped I 
hadnÕt.  I wanted him to impregnate me.  Let his little moment of folly 
bind him to me forever.  And then, as I felt his organ swell with his 
impending release, I realized I didnÕt know his name.  Later I found out it 
was ÔJohn,Õ never learning his last name.  How could I finger a man I didnÕt 
know?  He would escape, and leave me with child, alone in the world and 
helpless.
         A bursting within me.  He came in me just as I came upon his 
enormous prick.  There was no time for second thoughts, for newfound 
reservations.  His seed flooded into my womb, hot, copious.  I found myself 
drowning inside, so wet and sticky and fulsome was his spurting.  
Jennifer, meanwhile, abandoned with her spot half-tickled, but 
unfulfilled, bucked her bare hips upon the sheet of the bed as her mouth 
was pinned down and forced to lick within ColetteÕs nest.
         I received.  All of JohnÕs sperm, possibly all heÕd ever made in his 
life, came spurting from his balls, 30 years worth of seed made in his 
testicles and saved up just for me.  For my womb, for my eggs that 
simmered inside me, begging for fertilization.  I mouthed the bedcovers.  I 
bit them.  I knew I was bad and deserved whatever he gave me.  In and out 
he shoved himself, sluicing in the wetness of my juices and his spouting 
seed.  We climaxed together.  It was the perfect merging of two healthy 
young bodies.  His, hairy and strong and demanding; mine sleek and small 
and yet just as eager for him as he was for me, the two of us slamming 
our hips back and forth like joined serpents.  Poor Jennifer offered her 
hips to us but we ignored her.  Her bush was left to bounce upon the bed, 
unattended, she hearing our cries as her own mouth was forced to feed in 
the wet moistness of ColetteÕs pussy.
         Our course completed at last, our combat finished, John withdrew 
his hardness from me.  I stood up.  I brushed back my hair.  How does one 
compose oneself after such an intimate joust?  I saw JenniferÕs eyes 
staring upward, and looked, and saw a mirror there, on the ceiling.  She 
had seen all.  I smiled at her.  She stared blankly at me, her nose in 
ColetteÕs bush and her mouth feeding within the womanÕs pussy.  I turned 
to John.  I smiled at him.  I looked down at his organ and saw it was 
declining in strength.  I touched his drippy cockhead.  It enlarged a little 
at my touch, then continued its shrinkage.  Men are so strange.  How do 
they become so big if their wieners are really so small?  His hugeness 
withered away.  I wanted to bend down and kiss him back to life but he 
turned away.  He was done with me.  He went looking for our room key and 
found it on a dresser by the door.  He unlocked our door and went out.  I 
watched his hairy ass as he rounded the corner and left me without so 
much as saying goodbye.
         Still, he had given me his best.  I felt like running after him but I 
didnÕt.  I turned instead to Jennifer.  We were friends.  WeÕd promised, 
with our eyes, to protect each other at the party.  I spied ColetteÕs crop 
lying on the bed.  I picked it up.  It was payback time.
         WHACK!  I slammed the crop against the soft, bulging whiteness of 
ColetteÕs ass.  It was a pretty ass, but I was mad at her for getting me 
raped and for biting JenniferÕs pretty pink nipples.
         ÒOh, God!Ó Colette cried.  She clapped her hands to her bottom and 
her head flung itself back.  I watched as the red line IÕd burned into her 
posterior made her squirm upon JenniferÕs mouth, and I realized sheÕd 
enjoyed it.
         ÒDid you like that?Ó I gasped.  I was angry at her, and appalled.  How 
could a woman like having her hiney whacked?  I mean, if a man insists, 
for his own wicked pleasure, I guess a girl can find enjoyment in making 
him happy, accepting her fate, letting him work his will on her.  But there 
were no men here now.  There was just me, and Jennifer, and Colette.  I 
smacked her hands with the crop and she yanked them off her bottom.  She 
shoved her ass back at me, begging for more.
         I gave her another blow, and another, in rapid succession.  I wanted 
her off my friend.  Colette, finding my blows harder and harder, found her 
bare bottom was less prepared for my punishment than sheÕd thought.  I 
showed her no mercy.  I hoped each stroke of mine, however imprecisely 
and weak-wristedly I delivered it, still very much a novice, made a big 
welt across her ass.  I tried my best to hurt her.  Colette bucked and 
moaned and ground her pussy into JenniferÕs face.  Jennifer, I realized, 
was getting the worse for it, her poor face practically smashed within 
ColetteÕs cunt, but I didnÕt know how else to help her.  Might I wrestle 
Colette off her?  Colette was sleek and firm and I knew she would just 
overpower me.  I had to stay back, yet punish her enough to get her off my 
friend.
         Suddenly Colette tensed.  She was cumming.  I watched in horror as 
Colette mushed her pussy upon JenniferÕs poor mouth and orgasmed.  I 
sensed Jennifer, if only to rid herself of the woman, worked her tongue in 
ColetteÕs slit and pleasured her.  Upon that stabbing tongue and attentive 
wet mouth Colette issued forth her moist spendings.  Then, tossing back 
her hair and getting up from my friend as if she were rising off a toilet, 
Colette climbed down off the bed.  She looked at me, a little guiltily I 
hoped, and then she caught my face in my hands and kissed me.  
         Our bedroom door was still open and she simply walked out, leaving 
me with her lipstick on my lips, swinging her hips and reaching back to 
cup her bottom.  It must have hurt from all the blows IÕd delivered.
         I looked at Jennifer.  We were alone.  We were bereft.  Colette and 
John had simply used us and left.  We were guests at an orgy, I realized.  
We were here to use each otherÕs bodies, and nothing more.  We were like 
children with a key to somebodyÕs candy shop, except our own bodies were 
each otherÕs candy.
         I climbed onto the bed.  Jennifer, crying, offered me her bush.  I 
kissed it.  It was furry.  I looked at her, my nose buried in her bush, and 
gave her a polite little lick.  Did she wish for more?  A bucking of her hips 
showed me she did. 
         ÒChildren!Ó I heard from the doorway.  My head bolted up and I turned 
to face my accuser.  Was it mom?  No, I breathed, in my relief.  It was 
Miriam.  But I blushed all the same as she saw me with my nose sniffing 
JenniferÕs quim.  ÒCome, you two!  We are going to have a dance now, and I 
donÕt want you to miss it!Ó Miriam said.  She strode into our borrowed 
bedroom and gazed at us with loving eyes.  ÒPoor girl!  Has someone been 
biting your nipples?Ó she asked Jennifer.  There were hickeys all over 
JenniferÕs sweet gourds where Colette had bitten her.  
         Jennifer, her wrists still bound to the headboard, could only stare up 
at Miriam, guiltily, I thought, given the blush that suddenly flooded her 
cheeks.  Miriam bent and kissed each of JenniferÕs teats.  ÒMmmmm!Ó 
Miriam declared.  She savored them, as if drawing nectar from them.  
Jennifer, already blushing, gasped a little moan.  
         ÒThere, that should make them all better,Ó Miriam suggested, 
showering JenniferÕs nipples with a series of little kisses.  I, hoping to 
make Jennifer happy, licked in her bush with little licks.  
         Miriam stood up.  She untied JenniferÕs wrists from the headboard.  
It took a while.  The rope had been tied tightly and Miriam didnÕt want to 
break her fingernails.  All the while I politely kissed JenniferÕs cunny, not 
sure now whether she wanted me to make her cum or not, Miriam being 
present amongst us.

                                              Angel in Flesh
                                              by Bohdan Kot

                         Her legs tangle me like a vine.
                         I eat her gentle ripe fruit.
                         She fills me with a green fire.

                         A madness not from heaven or hell
                         swirls on my bed made of clouds.
                         The air lays heavy on my back.
                         My room, dark and blue, forms a glow.

                         The full moon shines on her face
                         while I continue to feast.
                         Angel sheds a smile
                         that spills over me like a wet sun ray.

                                             COMIC REVIEW
                                                by holy joe

BobÕs Funny book, No. 1, 25 cents.  Minicomic.  Blue paper, 8 pages.  
Brian Kirk, Moot Comics, 93 Sunapee Street, Springfield, MA  01108.  e-
mail:  mootcomics@aol.com    web:  http://www.the-
spa.com/bear/moothome

         Review:  This is a short, rather pointless story about a comic 
book shop proprietor.  HeÕs named Bob.  He orders a new batch of comic 
books and finds that prices have risen so much that the distributor is 
only able to deliver a single comic.  That, at least, appears to be the 
story.  ThereÕs no dialogue in this comic.  Instead, Brian relies on 
ÔpictureÕ word balloons.  I enjoyed looking at the art in this comic, but 
without dialogue it lacked a certain amount of substance.  Worse, the 
comic appears to have been drawn to please a friend (a real life ÔBobÕ).  
So, instead of ending the comic looking like an ass, as the ever-lovable 
ÔAsinine HeadÕ would, BobÕs comic ends with Bob happy and content.
         HereÕs an idea:  Next issue, Bob refuses to let kids read his 
ÔvaluableÕ comics.  (No browsing!  Purchase only!)  He complains that 
they have sticky fingers from eating candy.  In retaliation, a kid buys a 
(cheap) comic, asks to use the toilet, and stuffs the comic down into 
the commode.  A little later, Bob goes to the toilet for a nice s(h)it.  He 
takes his most valuable comic book with him, grumbling about how he 
has to constantly ÔprotectÕ his valuable comics from Ôthose damn kidsÕ.  
(His customers.)  Flushing after a good poop, Bob feels the toilet water 
welling up under his bottom.  The shop is flooded with turds and all 
BobÕs ÔvaluableÕ comics get spoiled by water damage.  Then, to stay in 
business, Bob is forced to hold a Ôflood saleÕ, selling his comics at cut-
rate prices.
         ÒNow weÕve got some fun stuff to read!Ó one sticky-fingered kid, 
munching on messy candy, tells another as they enjoy BobÕs discount 
comics.
         (The Three Stooges, after all, didnÕt get popular by being happy 
and content in their films.)

                                             AND IN THE END...

                                    Where would we be without

                                                 PARENTS?

         ÒWhen Zane Grey was 15 his father tore up his first attempt at 
fiction.  ...Yet GreyÕs pioneering westerns were to become so popular 
that, in the end, they provided the bases for more than 100 films.Ó

-The Economist, July 19, 1997, Review page 13.


-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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Click in the window behind the ÒtÓ in Ò.netÓ
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-Other providers:  
Usenet Newsgroup:  alt.sex.stories.moderated
or by e-mail:  file.request@backdrop.com
or via the Web:  http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/

-Free minicomics:  send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to:  Jim
  Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
- JOIN the worldÕs greatest organization!  Send $35.00 to The North
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  NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.  
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
  copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.  Work by others
  copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.    
-END OF 333 EMISSION
- [GreyÕs] stories of rugged frontier lives are part of the cherished 
identity and the romantic history of the continent -- an indispensable 
element of the great American dream.Ó  (Ibid., Review pg. 14.)