---------------------------------------------------------------
PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------
America Needs
LAW AND ORDER !
Sometimes a guy, perhaps a guy whoÕs never had a girlfriend, will
suddenly meet a girl. She likes him. He likes her. SheÕs under 18. HeÕs
18, or older. They fall in love and everyoneÕs happy, right?
No. Unfortunately, AmericaÕs legislators arenÕt happy. They call a
guy like this a Òchild molester.Ó They insist he be punished. But what
sort of punishment, you may ask? What, after all, should be the
punishment for love?
ÒDeath!Ó AmericaÕs legislators reply. ÒLife imprisonment!Ó And,
also, ÒCastration!Ó
Sometimes a guy, perhaps a guy whoÕs never even smoked pot before,
lights up a joint. It makes him happy. And nobody has any problem with
someone in America being happy, especially all by himself, right?
No. Unfortunately, Mississippi State Representative Bobby Moak
isnÕt happy. HeÕs proposed this law: ÒSmoke a Joint, Lose a Limb.Ó He
would Òpunish marijuana smokers by amputating an arm or a leg.Ó
In Kansas, 38 state legislators want Òto impose life terms without
parole for growing marijuana plants.Ó
So, I have been thinking. If we have so many legislators wanting to
impose Òlaw and orderÓ on us Americans, isnÕt it time we imposed some
law and order on them? For instance, occasionally a legislator is caught
lying, cheating, or stealing. Given the heavy penalties legislators want to
impose on us for love, or for growing plants, or for smoking them, what
should be the penalty for a legislator lying, cheating, or stealing?
I thought about this for a long time. Then, one day, I found out what
happened to a political figure of the past. His name was King Charles I.
He seemed a good model to me, since:
a. He was a real politician.
b. He was actually tried, convicted, and sentenced.
c. He was convicted and punished under the law, by a court of
England.
d. England provides us here in America with the basis of our own
law.
Hence, I propose that the penalty for King Charles I be applied to any
politician here in America convicted of lying, cheating, or stealing:
ÒYou shall go from hence to the place from whence you came, and
from that place shall be drawn upon a hurdle to the place of execution, and
there shall hang by the neck till you are half dead, and shall be cut down
alive, and your privy members cut off before your face and thrown into the
fire, your belly ripped up and your bowels burnt, your head to be severed
from your body, your body shall be divided into four quarters, and disposed
as His Majesty shall think fit.Ó
Sources: Libertarian Party News, April 1998, page 4; and Encyclopedia of
Unusual Sex Practices, by Brenda Love, pg. 282.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 368
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
PassionÕs Playpen
Chapter Two
Kate flexed her thighs. Her ankles were secured to the baseboard of
the bed. She had watched them tie her feet. She wore pretty red pumps.
They had spikes on their heels. A soft white rope, crossing several times
over each of her ankles, and over the straps of her pretty red shoes, bound
her feet. They were spread wide apart. Kate felt thankful for the fur
draped over her body, for without it anyone who came in the bedroom
would have seen her muff. It was well-displayed, under the concealing
layer of fur, splayed and open and too moist for a proper young college
freshman. Kate wondered what her mother would say, if she knew her
daughter was skipping class and lying here instead, feeling her bare
bottom rub against the fur underneath her as she tested the bonds that
held her feet.
Yes. She was trussed quite tightly, like a turkey might be, except
turkeys could simply be open and spread for stuffing to be put inside them.
She was like a live turkey, Kate realized. She was waiting for the
butcherÕs axe, or her loverÕs penis, and sheÕd been promised a date within
the barn, no less, where turkeys might once have been slaughtered for the
Thanksgiving feast.
What was in the barn? Kate found herself wondering why a cultured
woman like Miriam, living within the city, in a proper townhouse, would
speak of having a barn out back, and animals housed inside it. Just the
thought of being taken out back to a real barn made Kate desperate to pass
her hand between her legs and rub herself.
They had not forbid her pleasure. Maria, kissing her goodnight, had
not mentioned the matter, like a mother who wishes to turn a blind eye to
her childrenÕs sins. Yet Maria had directed Lisa on how to bind Kate, what
manner of rope to use, how tight the knots should be made, and what
posture Kate should be left in when it all was done. Lisa had wanted to
cuff both KateÕs hands, but Miriam had told her not to. KateÕs lover,
waiting by the door, watched it all in silence. He still held his belt in his
fist and Kate had feared he might beat her with it when she was finished
being tied. Perhaps, she had thought, they left her one hand free to fend
off his blows.
Now Kate lay in silence, squirming a little on the fur, nude except
for her heels and decorative earrings that hung from her ears. They had
denied her a pillow. They wished to admire the effect of seeing her with
her legs upraised, fixed to the posts of the bedÕs baseboard. After Kate
had been tied Maria and Lisa and her lover stood admiring her, watching
her breath as it made her belly ripple and her bosoms rise and fall.
Perversely, Maria had given Kate a pacifier to suck. Kate held it still
between her lips, feeling the big plastic nipple as it lay on her restless
tongue.
Kate could feel her soft hair lying about her face. Maria had braided
it for her, after her bath, braiding just the strands in front, leaving a
little hanging free round her eyes and a great swathe of her lovely hair
free in back. Whenever Kate moved her head she felt the odd duality of the
braids, tugging at her head whilst her bangs hung down in her eyes. She
felt a luscious sense of being bound yet free, tied up yet still able to
move, to toss her head and flex her knees and rub her bottom against the
fur, while playing with her pubic hair with the fingers of her right hand.
Surely she must be made to suffer for all this luxury. And she knew
she would be. She was like a sacrificial lamb, cared for and fed and
decorated with ribbons, only to be ripped apart by the priest. Beside her,
on the nightstand, lay yet more fruit, surrounded by ice that Lisa had been
forced to haul up from the kitchen downstairs. A small bowl of cream lay
beside the strawberries, for dipping, if Kate should ever get hungry enough
to stop playing with the curls of her pubic hair. And next to the cream
was a dish of cheese, and beside that, all within reach of Kate, lay a
bottle of wine, kept chilled in an ice bucket. A little bell sat next to the
bucket of wine, in case Kate should need help in drinking it. The cork was
already popped. Kate could, she mused, merely pour the wine on herself.
Nobody had told her not to make a mess. Yet, somehow, she wished to be
elegant, to be as fine a creature as Maria and her lover wished her to be.
She was no longer a college girl, serious about her studies, and silly on
the weekends. She was a pinup, a poster girl, made for the camera. She
was a dream girl, fresh from her bath and ready for love.
And in all that luxury, in all the special and fine comfort, Kate could
only wonder and wait. She told herself to sleep but the apprehension she
felt about what they still promised to do to her kept her awake. Kate
looked at the little silver bell beside her bed. It glowed at her, smugly, as
if it knew what she was in for and cared not the least if she suffered. It
had seen other girls, she knew. Girls who didnÕt listen to their mother to
study and be good in school and instead ran away with a lover. To play
wicked games. Games where people lost their clothes and got fucked and
spanked. And tied to a bed between soft layers of fur, to wait for morning
and a trip to the barn.
Kate felt a hopeless sense of longing brewing within her. She tried
to restrain her hunger, not that in her belly, which sheÕd fed, but that just
below, between her widespread legs. SheÕd been fucked in her ass at the
party downstairs, not her cunt. She longed to find her lover in the room,
his penis bare, pressing it between her legs and forcing her to take him.
ÒNo!Ó Kate cried. She tossed her head on the fur. She mustnÕt tease
and play with herself, just below where she was touching, where her pubic
fur opened upon a wondrous cleft that begged for attention.
ÒDid you call?Ó a shy voice asked. Kate, who had squeezed her eyes
shut, to better fight her desire, opened them again. She saw a figure in
the doorway. The door was open again, but it was not her lover standing
there.
A girl tossed back long hair and braids.
ÒShe has the same hairstyle as me!Ó Kate breathed to herself. And
she knew who had braided the hair that way. The figure in the doorway
crept closer. Kate saw a shirt but no panties. Between the girlÕs plump
thighs she saw wisps.
The girl flicked on the light. Kate blinked. She had grown
accustomed to the darkness. The girl wore a manÕs shirt. It was much too
big for her and one of her shoulders was bare, for the shirt on that side of
her body had fallen free of her and hung down round her arm. The shirt
was only partly buttoned in front. It left her bosoms mostly uncovered, as
well as her belly. Just one button was closed across her middle to keep
her modest. Where the shirt flared Kate saw hips as bare as her own.
Between naked legs a thatch of pubic hair grew. Kate needed a cock but
instead got a cunny, one to match her own, and perhaps just as wet.
ÒIÕm sorry. I didnÕt mean to wake you,Ó the girl apologized. She had
a finger in her mouth, tentatively, as if speculating about her presence.
She was white, with her skin just tanned a little, but not where her
private parts lay, for both her bosoms looked like marshmallows and there
was a band of pale flesh where she wore her swim panties in the sun. In
her right fist she clutched a riding crop. It was long and slender and it
had a tassel on its tip, making her look like a little elf whoÕd lost her
reindeer. She seemed to be tensing her bottom.
ÒYou didnÕt wake me,Ó Kate replied. Then, as if to make
conversation, she said, ÒI see you donÕt have any panties on either.Ó
ÒNo. Panties are a no-no here,Ó the girl replied. She had glossy red
hair and looked no older than Kate and her pubic hair, since she was so
young and obviously uncontrived, was the same color as the hair on her
head. Kate lay looking at her for a moment and then, wriggling her feet,
she asked,
ÒCould you please let me go?Ó
ÒOh, you shouldnÕt ask such a thing!Ó the redhead exclaimed. She
advanced closer to Kate. She seemed to find a bit of confidence in herself
and she drew in her breath, which made her bosoms rise so that the pert
nipples of her breasts popped free of the manÕs shirt she wore. The shirt
had slipped from her other shoulder as she walked and she had to stop and
heft it back up again, lest she remain bare bosomed. ÒYou may ask for
cake, and chocolate if you wish, and all the liquor you care to drink, but
you mustnÕt ask me to free you,Ó the girl said. She turned and inspected
KateÕs food. Kate saw that the girlÕs shirt was pinned up in back. It left
her bottom totally bare and accessible.
ÒCould you bring me something?Ó Kate asked. It seemed the only
thing to say. Perhaps, if she were a princess, she could force the girl to
bring her a knife.
ÒLet me whip you first,Ó the girl replied. ÒDonÕt you want any of
this nice fruit?Ó She probed the strawberries with an inquiring finger.
ÒDo you mind if I have one?Ó she asked. Kate didnÕt reply, so she picked
one up anyway and popped it in her mouth. It was big for her cheeks and it
distorted her mouth and she had to concentrate a moment to get it chewed
and swallowed.
ÒWhat do you mean, whip me?Ó Kate asked. She had dropped the
pacifier from her mouth when the girl opened the door but now the girl
picked it up and offered it to her again.
ÒHere, suck this,Ó the girl said. She seemed as artless as a new
pupil at school, yet she made Kate open her lips and receive the pacifier
inside her mouth, shoving it into her face until Kate accepted it. ÒYou
must be whipped on the backs of your thighs, to make you ready for
tomorrow when your bottom is flogged. IÕve brought some Estee Lauder
creme to soothe you after IÕm done.Ó The girl fished in her shirt pocket
which, owing to the largeness of the shirt, hung down at the level of her
belly. She drew forth a squirt tube of creme. ÒWould you like to roll over
and take it lying face down, or would you prefer to stand up for it?Ó
HOW MANY GIRLS can you call on the phone?
by holy joe
Okay, youÕre sitting at home. YouÕre by yourself. YouÕre staring at
your computer. (Your zipper, by the way, is unzipped.)
ItÕs time to play holy joeÕs game, ÔHow many girls can you call on the
phone?Õ
But donÕt play it by yourself. That would be no fun at all. Instead,
print this out. Then, fold it up neatly and give it to another guy in your
life. When heÕs opened your special message, hereÕs what heÕll see:
CONGRATULATIONS!!!
You must now call and talk to real, live girls on the telephone. DonÕt
be shy. Unless you call up some girls, you will have bad luck for the rest
of your life.
Pick up the phone. Start dialing up some girls you know, or hope for
luck as you dial whatever numbers come into your head. Only real, live
girls who answer and actually talk to you count in your score.
To do really well, you need to call up five different girls and talk to
them. If you do less well, check below to see what will happen to you for
the rest of your life:
0 - You will be a worthless dweeb.
1 - You will be married to a hippopotamus and have five daughters who all
grow up to be groupies.
2 - You will have a ton of porno magazines stashed in your bathroom. Your
friends will drool on them whenever they use your toilet.
3 - You will lust after many girls, but the only love you will find will be
at porn sites on the Web.
4 - A girl will tell you she loves you, if you spend lots of money on her.
5 - Girls will come running into your life and rip your clothes off and
practically kill you trying to have sex with you.
What are you waiting for, bad luck? Pick up the phone now!
@-->-->---- LOVE CONNECTION hot line, Incorporated
A FAMILIAR RENDEZVOUS
by Tim DiVito
We came to the park and in it,
like we always did.
This time was different somehow,
reaching new heights was in our grasp.
We made love for the first time,
maybe not love, something more erotic.
The dark clouds covered our naked bodies
like black satin sheets on our bed of green grass.
One kiss could not feed our insatiable hunger.
We tasted the sweetness of our tongues
like fresh strawberries in May.
The rain and her hands pushed me down,
down to the moist essence of her womanhood,
savoring the sweet honey once forbidden.
She now begins, to explore, with tongue and lips,
bringing me to stiff attention with playful expertise.
Lust was not deterred by the cold downpour
as my ass moved in erotic rhythm
to the beat of the raindrops.
Screams of animal passion filled the rain chilled air.
We achieved a rare moment, mutual release was ours.
AND IN THE END...
ÒPoliticians have tried spending their way and jailing their way
to victory in the 25-year-old War on Drugs. Now theyÕre willing to
amputate their way to victory.Ó
- Libertarian Party News, April 1998, page 4.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Back issues (and stories): type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browserÕs ÒLocationÓ window. Press your ÒreturnÓ key.
Click on ÒPower SearchÓ in the middle of the screen. Next,
Type in: roller39@idt.net in the box that appears.
Click on ÒfindÓ (the button to the right of the box).
-Or search using: roller666@earthlink.net
-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/
-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.
-END OF 368 EMISSION