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                                 In this issue:  GIRLS and WAR


                                (what more could you ask for?)

                                      Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY

                                         Hamilton?  Sturges?
                                      http://www.amazon.com

                                              Issue No. 362

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                            PassionÕs Playpen

                                                Chapter One

         ÒVery good,Ó Maria said.  She touched a finger to KateÕs throat and 
briefly kissed her lips, as if to reward her for a job well done.  Then she 
reached back and untied the ribbon that held KateÕs hair in a pony tail.  
ÒYou have lovely hair,Ó Maria complimented the girl.  She fanned it out on 
her hands and then fluffed KateÕs hair so that Kate felt like a pretty doll 
being prepared for a wedding.
         Still wearing her blouse, whose tail was fashionably short so that it 
didnÕt cover an inch of her bottom, with her vest tightly around her body 
but hiding nothing, Kate was walked to a corner and faced into it.
         ÒYou must not watch us undress, dear,Ó Maria said simply.  Behind 
herself Kate heard a shucking off of clothing.  Even as she heard this she 
was shocked to hear the doorbell ring, and more guests arrive.  She bit her 
lip and trembled as, facing the wall, she heard these new guests welcomed 
with soft hellos and told to undress.  This was so sinful!  Yet, with her 
hands and arms so tightly bound behind her, showing off her nude white 
bottom as if it were a trophy, Kate knew she could do nothing.  She bowed 
her head in an attempt at modesty.  Maybe they would spare her if she 
looked properly contrite, she reasoned.  And then she remembered the men.  
In particular, her boyfriend.
         Kate could only imagine what her lover must look like now that he 
had a chance to remove his sometimes uncomfortable clothing.  She stood 
waiting, with her cheeks huddling into her, her hands resting on their 
plump surfaces.  She could feel the cold steel of the handcuffs around her 
wrists pressing hard into the soft whiteness of her bottom.  With cuffs 
also restraining and binding her elbows, she was made to stand very 
straight.  She wondered, as she stood there listening to them undress, 
tasting the bra that had been stuffed into her mouth, whether she would 
experience other feelings upon her bottom this night, and whether it would 
be so white in the morning.
         A light, almost airy touch on her shoulders.  Maria turned Kate 
around to face the guests.  There were almost twice as many now.  For a 
moment Kate was startled.  The men, who had been so decent and reserved 
before, now rudely offered her their bare penises.  Several stood with 
their hands on their hips and Kate blushed as she saw how trim their hips 
were and how trim and sleek and muscled their bodies.  In the midst of 
each pair of male hips, where the bush lay and where a girl would have 
offered nothing, stood up a very stiff pestle of flesh.  It made no bones 
about its purpose.  It throbbed with a life of its own and Kate was forced 
to stare at each of the pee holes on each of the menÕs penises.  
         Was she a toilet?  Kate gulped at the thought.  What only a urinal 
usually saw, a big cockhead with its pee slit presented, she was now 
seeing.  Staring at, for she couldnÕt take her eyes off the sight of so many 
male penises clustered around her, showing interest in her, a girl of only 
19 with her hands cuffed so neatly behind her back.
         While Kate blushed, the other females, who had shown such an 
interest in her earlier, hung back this time, letting the males be closest 
to her.  The girls nibbled diffidently at aperitifs.  One filled glasses with 
punch.  Kate felt suddenly thirsty and wanted to ask for a cup of punch but 
she was afraid she would be given wine again instead, and forced to get 
drunk.
         Instinctively Kate looked for her lover.  But Mark was gone.  Maria 
noticed her darting eyes and softly stroked her bare shoulder.
         ÒYour lover has been given the girl of his pick and sent upstairs,Ó 
Maria explained.  ÒSo that you will be forced to rely on us.  Now you cannot 
rely on him for guidance or comfort, but only on us.Ó
         A distinct cracking sound came suddenly to all their ears and they 
looked up.  Leather on bare flesh.  It was unmistakable.  A female cry was 
heard, and a woman with a glass of punch in her hand giggled, spurting out 
a little punch from her lips, though she tried to catch it with her hand.  It 
hit her friend on the breast and since her friend had undressed she was hit 
directly by the punch, and it speckled her skin.  The woman whoÕd lost 
herself in giggles bent forward and licked up the punch that decorated her 
companionÕs bare bosom.
         ÒTch.  He is being hard on her,Ó Maria said, looking up at the ceiling 
as another scream broke from above.  Maria bared her teeth a little as she 
spoke, as if plotting vengeance.  Her grip on KateÕs frail shoulder 
tightened.  Kate felt her bosoms wobble on her chest.  She wanted to 
shrink and run away before these partygoers.  Her eyes were big in her 
face and her body was quite waifish and small, except for her large heavy 
breasts and her legs which looked very long because they were so slim.  
She felt frail and she gasped as a female, stepping up to a table with a 
lamp on it, set her drink down on top of the table and opened its single 
drawer.  Dipping her hand within, the female drew out a riding crop.  It 
was short and businesslike, with a tough hard handle.  At its tip was an 
oversized loop, made of leather.  Kate wondered if the big loop was made 
that way to appeal to the eyes of children.  It reminded her of childrenÕs 
heads, how they often appeared larger than their bodies, giving them the 
look of little bobbing-headed darlings.  Now the crop, with its childish, 
loopy head, was brought by the female whoÕd drawn it out up to Maria.  The 
dark-haired woman, naked now except for her bouffant hairdo, accepted 
the crop.  Still holding Kate, she whisked it briskly through the air.  Kate 
watched wide-eyed as it whistled past her bosoms, with their fine-tipped 
points, and past her tummy which seemed to have sunk within her, 
showing off her ribs as if she were an animal about to be broasted and 
eaten.  The men, uncontrollably hard and breathtakingly long, drew back a 
little, lest Maria bobbitize one of their penises with her new toy.  
Screams permeated the ceiling above, as a slow cracking of leather 
worked itself upon some poor helpless female bottom.  
         Kate felt she could hardly breathe.  Butterflies flew in her soft, 
small indrawn tummy.  Her legs trembled.  She realized she was way in 
over her head.  No wonder her parents had disapproved of her dating an 
older man!  No college boy could have gotten her into something this deep, 
she reckoned.  The wildest frat party was always somewhat silly in the 
end, with drunken boys dancing around vomiting puke or challenging each 
other to pee on passersby from an upstairs window.  This was quite 
different.  Here, the men seemed not the least drunk, but Kate was staring 
at their penises nonetheless, and they seemed much harder than frat boyÕs 
penises, almost implacable, like policemen enforcing the law.
         The law of Nature?  No, Kate gasped to herself, for whips and riding 
crops and such things were hardly what missionaries would approve of, 
despite their accord with the missionary position.  Here was where people 
played who were outside the ambit of God, or what He and her parents 
approved of.  These were not mere boys on a lark.  These were men with 
real jobs and real responsibilities whoÕd chosen (yes, chosen!) to get 
together and strip naked and play wicked, decadent games.  And the women 
were no better.  By day they might be models, or private secretaries, or 
even businesswomen, but now they were stripped of all but their lovely 
hairdos and eyeing the crop in MariaÕs hand as if it were something more 
than just an implement for encouraging horses.  Kate imagined that women 
like these would, by day, scold men for complimenting them on their busts 
(or perhaps even their dresses) but now they stood with perky nipples 
waiting and hoping for attention from men.  A few cupped the balls of 
their lovers encouragingly, from behind, still softly sipping their drinks 
as they weighed the hot swimming sperm sacks that hung so acutely.  
Fingers drew themselves along the freely displayed male organs, sizing 
them up, finding them especially hard and daunting.  The men remained 
with their eyes fixed on Kate.
         ÒHe has my wife upstairs,Ó the closest male said as a new scream 
broke from above.  ÒLet me be the one to punish her.Ó  The man spoke to 
Maria.  He was the least attractive one present, Kate thought, with a face 
like a boxer whoÕd boxed too long, and a knotted, muscled body, like 
someone who works out but does it badly, without the sleek tall well-
formed look that Kate so much admired.  His cock, though big, resembled a 
sausage more than a cucumber.  Everything about him spoke of meanness, 
of deprivation and revenge.
         Maria fixed her crop between two fingers, balancing it there with 
her fingertips free so that she could use her hand for other purposes, 
while still holding the crop, holding it like one might hold a cigarette.  She 
reached up to KateÕs chin and pulled it down.  
         ÒI must take out your bra, dear.  You might choke on it or swallow 
the end of it,Ó Maria said.  She pulled the stringy, lacy fabric from KateÕs 
mouth and Kate sighed.  But no sooner was her mouth unplugged than a 
woman, circling around almost unnoticed, set down her drink and whipped 
a gag quickly around KateÕs mouth.

                                         HOT OFF THE PRESS
                                                by holy joe

VIETNAM, Number 1, $5.99.  Starlog Entertainment, 475 Park Avenue South, 
New York, NY 10016.  No web site listed.  (By mail:  send $4.99 plus $2.50 
postage and handling.)

         Review:  A long time ago, in a land far away, there was a war.  
America lost.  It was called Vietnam.
         As you know, in our Pedophile Studies Department (right across the 
hall from Feminist Studies, Gay Studies, and Afro-American Studies) we 
are reading a book.  ItÕs called ÒFire in the Streets.Ó  (ISBN:  0-935553-
18-5)  ItÕs a book about the Tet Offensive, specifically, about the Battle 
for Hue.  There are some very good maps in that book.  However, I have 
found another map, in this issue of Vietnam, which shows the various 
movements of the various army battalions as they fought for Hue.  I 
recommend the map in this magazine.  Those weirdly numbered battalions 
(such as:  ÒK4B Battalion 4th Inf. Reg.Ó) can be quite hard to follow.  This 
map makes everything crystal clear.
         Also in this issue is an Adobe Illustrator-style fold-out diagram of 
a B-52 bomber and an F-4 Phantom.  IÕm not much of a fan of Adobe 
Illustrator-style art.  IÕm old enough to remember when such fold-outs, in 
books and magazines, were beautiful paintings or drawings.  Alas, those 
days are gone.  Now everyone seems to use Adobe Illustrator.  ItÕs cheaper, 
I suppose.  The only drawback is it looks cheap too.


ym, Young and Modern, May 1998, $2.95.  Subscription Service:  1-800-
727-9696.  No web site listed.  

         Review:  Temple of Pan devotees will be thrilled with this issue.  
ThereÕs a swimsuit section.  (Page 106.)  It features a wholesome young 
blonde, bronzed by the sun, playing with her girlfriends in a tropical park.
         Just ahead of the swimsuit photos is a section depicting all the 
different types of swimsuits a YM reader might wear.  Now you can speak 
with authority on the difference between a crop top and a halter top.  
(Page 104.)
         While weÕre giving our worshipful attention to the girls in the 
swimsuit section, many girls will be admiring this issueÕs cover.  My 
brother Leonardo DiCaprio is on the cover.


Nordstrom BP style, Number 2, free.  From the creators of YM.  E-mail:  
npta@nordstrom-pta.com    Phone:  1-800-695-8000.

         Review:  Now hereÕs a magazine cover I can get into:  a wholesome 
young blonde, clad in hip-hugging jeans, with a blouse so short it leaves 
her belly-button showing!  I really liked this issue.  ÒLifeÕs a Beach,Ó page 
29, features the cover-girl stripped down to a bikini.  Beside her is a 
luscious brunette.  Who needs the movie Lolita when youÕve got this 
magazine?
         ÒCosmic beauty,Ó page 12, is a fascinating section that helps girls 
pick which look is best for them, based on their astrological sign.  Carl 
Sagan would object, but it is snazzy to look at.
         ÒBoys on the side,Ó page 70, features full-color portraits of young 
men.  I have no idea why Ôlittle girlsÕ would have an interest in ogling 
grown men, but I guess they do.


Skank, June 1998, $6.99.  Web:  http://www.swankmag.com 

         Review:  Nude girls with lovely white skin engage in a Ômuff munch.Õ  
(Page 69).  I really liked this pictorial!  Someday IÕm going to have a harem 
and my girls are going to do this all day; keeping themselves constantly 
aroused in case I need a quick fuck.  Swank has a very good track record of 
doing Ônaughty but wholesomeÕ girl/girl pictorials like this one.  If youÕre 
looking for a back issue to buy, with a good girl/girl pictorial, I 
recommend the August 1997 issue.  The ad for back issues is on page 76.


Penthouse Bathing Beauties, May 1998, $5.99.  Web:  
http://www.penthousemag.com

         Review:  A high-quality issue.  The Penthouse special issues can vary 
quite a bit.  Some are good.  Some are junk.  This issue is a must if you 
like:  young, perfect females.  Pinned-up long hair.  Soap, bubbles, and 
spraying water.  Plus licking tongues and probing fingers, teasing a girl to 
an orgasm in a warm bath.
         Shit.  Now I need a bath, and a pair of clean underpants too!
         What I really liked about this issue is that some of the girls look 
like slave-pets.  There are several pictorials in which you see a totally 
perfect girl sitting alone in a gorgeous tub, her hair neatly arranged, 
staring out at the camera like sheÕs been captured.
         ÒYes, my pretty, youÕre all mine now.  HA!  HA!  HA!Ó the evil nerd 
says.
         If you have Anne RiceÕs Sleeping Beauty trilogy, this magazine is the 
perfect companion to it.

                                                       -----

         Ò[This is a poem from] my chapbook entitled, ÒEven On The Longest 
Day,Ó writes David R. Hadley.  
         ÒI am originally from Washington D.C. and am very familiar with the 
poetry circuit there.  I participated in many poetry readings and various 
other functions.Ó  (Bodily functions? - h.j.)  ÒI have never published and my 
works have only been herd [sic] through these readings.Ó

                                                  (untitled)
                                            by David R. Hadley

                   There is the lonely drone of an engine
                   In my head
                   Keeping this facade at a distance
                   The wolf in his den
                   And a thin membrane
                   Of passive aggression
                   Keeping it all in check
                   I waited
                   Patiently
                   Already knowing you would
                   Finish the final chapter
                   While I was getting a drink of water
                   Then you left
                   Then you left again
                   And I stood there
                   With my dick in my hand
                   And the wolf biting my ass

                                             AND IN THE END...

                                      PROTECT THE CHILDREN?

         ÒIraqi doctors had forgotten how to treat malnutrition -- now it 
is our main work,Ó says Abdulla Hussain, director of a pediatric clinic 
in Baghdad.  ÒOur children are dying in front of us.Ó

- Newsweek, March 16, 1998, pg. 41.


-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for:  Jock SturgesÕ Radiant
  Identities and David HamiltonÕs The Age of Innocence. Support art!
- JOIN the worldÕs greatest organization!  Send $35.00 to The North
  American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
  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.
-Official Newsletter, Temple of Pan
-END OF 362 EMISSION

         ÒSome diplomats privately fear that Iraq under sanctions may 
become like Germany in the 1920s -- a nation so severely punished that 
its next generation will want revenge.Ó

- Newsweek, March 16, 1998, pg. 41.