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GIRL ALERT !
ItÕs amazing who you meet on the bus. Today I met this guy. He has
a long name, like that of President Bush, whose full name is George
Herbert Walker Bush.
This guyÕs name is Samuel Theodore Utica Dell. IÕll call him Dell.
(ThereÕs no relation between himself and the Dell paperback book company,
though.)
Dell was sitting next to me on the bus. He sighed. I looked over at
him. I introduced myself. I asked him why he looked so sad.
ÒI was all set,Ó Dell told me. ÒI met a strong, assertive woman. She
was willing to teach me and guide me, and have me sire her children. She
was going to train me to care for her children after they were born. She
even found me a 9 to 5 job as a secretary at the firm she owned.Ó
ÒSounds pretty good,Ó I said. ÒA wife, kids, a job, a roof over your
head, and even three meals a day, provided youÕre willing to cook them.Ó
ÒYep,Ó Dell agreed. He sighed again. He looked at me. ÒBut then
disaster struck!Ó Dell told me.
ÒGosh!Ó I said. ÒWhat happened?Ó
ÒI went to Tower Books,Ó Dell said. ÒTo buy the Wall Street Journal,
because my wife-to-be said she needed a copy.Ó
ÒYes?Ó I asked.
ÒI saw a magazine,Ó Dell told me.
ÒWhat sort of magazine?Ó I asked.
ÒIt was the June issue of some magazine from France, called
Depeche Mode.Ó
ÒSounds like one of those ladiesÕ fashion magazines,Ó I said.
ÒYes,Ó Dell said. ÒBut instead of having a strong, assertive woman
on the cover, clad in Puritanical business garb, they put a child on their
cover!Ó
ÒA child?!Ó I asked.
ÒYes, you know,Ó Dell said. ÒA girl. A girl whoÕs under 18. And she
isnÕt all sweaty, and dressed in a basketball or a baseball uniform, like
girls are supposed to be.Ó
ÒShe isnÕt?!Ó I asked.
ÒNo,Ó Dell said. ÒSheÕs wearing a cowboy hat. Her hair is pulled into
pigtails, making her look even younger than she already is. SheÕs wearing
a shirt thatÕs open all the way down its front, like a nightie. And, worst
of all, sheÕs got on a pair of very small hotpants, that look like theyÕre
made out of silk.Ó
ÒGosh!Ó I said.
ÒBut thereÕs even something worse than that,Ó Dell told me. ÒAs
this young child stares into the camera, with a lascivious smile on her
face, she is PULLING DOWN the front of her hot pants, as if she wants to
take them off!Ó
ÒGood Lord!Ó I cried.
ÒYes!Ó Dell said. ÒLet me tell you, that ruined me-- after that there
was just NO WAY I could marry my fiancee. Now I spend my days loitering
around swimming pools with 12-year-old virgins in skimpy bikinis, idling
away, not doing anything socially useful with my life.Ó
ÒWhat a tragedy!Ó I cried.
ÒEven worse, the 12-year-old cherries-- I mean, girls-- they ask me
about sex!Ó Dell said.
ÒYou mean youÕre corrupting the youth-- like Socrates?Ó I asked.
ÒYes!!!Ó Dell gasped. ÒI mean, I could be a married, working father,
dutifully serving my wife, and instead IÕm hanging around with beautiful
young virgins, talking about sex.Ó
ÒIsnÕt it amazing how one day you can be doing so well in life, and
the next day your whole life can completely collapse?Ó I asked Dell.
ÒIndeed!Ó Dell said. ÒNow several of the girls want to move in with
me. They want to be my groupies. God knows, I could spend the rest of my
life living like Hugh Hefner, or some rock nÕ roll god, when I might have
been a hard-working secretary!Ó
The bus reached DellÕs stop. He got off. A gaggle of screaming girls
in wet bikinis was waiting for him. He turned to me and sadly waved
goodbye to me as the girls attempted to rip off his clothes.
ÒGoodbye!Ó I cried to Dell from the bus, as it sped away. ÒTry to get
help if you can!Ó
ÒI will!Ó Dell yelled to me. ÒItÕs no fun being sick!Ó
Beware, men! DonÕt turn out like Dell. The last thing you want in
life is to have some sick desire for, or relationship with, a 12-year-old
girl. In DellÕs case heÕs suffering from a very advanced form of the
disease, where he finds himself associating with a whole group of young
girls. DonÕt jeopardize your chance to have a mature relationship with a
strong, assertive woman! If you need to visit Tower Books, be very
careful not to look at the June issue of Depeche Mode. Keep your eyes
lowered and do whatever business you need to do very quickly, so your
mind wonÕt be corrupted.
Dell is probably doomed. I doubt heÕll ever get to enjoy a
relationship with a demanding, assertive, wrinkled, out-of-shape woman.
HeÕll probably throw his whole life away, playing with slim, beautiful 12-
year-old girls, discussing pointless things with them like sex.
But you can be saved! Join NOW. Send money to NARAL. Read ÒIt
Takes a Village,Ó by Hillary Clinton. Get down on your knees whenever you
see a picture of Janet Reno. Then one day you too will enjoy the supreme
pleasure of a sexually frigid wife, a 50 year mortgage, ungrateful brats
who call you ÒDad,Ó and a job with unremitting demands.
What a great country this is, for those of us who arenÕt sick!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
NAKED girls and more at:
http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Issue No. 386
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
PassionÕs Playpen
Chapter Four
Kate spent four more days at MarieÕs. In the later days she, and her
lover, were permitted more freedom. They spent the mornings lying in
bed, afternoons in the barn or the bath, and nights partying with couples
that Marie invited over to meet them.
ÒI love you,Ó Kate said to her lover as she was helped up into the
carriage to go back to her school. He could not come with her. He had to
get back to his life at work.
ÒAgain this weekend?Ó Trent asked, looking up at Kate as she settled
herself in the carriage. She wore clothes given to her by Marie.
ÒPerhaps,Ó Kate said.
ÒIf you say ÔnoÕ IÕll find someone else,Ó Trent said to her.
ÒSo will I,Ó Kate smiled. ÒHere she comes now.Ó
And, stumbling out of the house, hurrying so she wouldnÕt miss the
carriage, came Cindy. The girls had grown close in the ensuing days and
Cindy, pregnant from one of MarieÕs lovers, but not wanting the man or
even knowing his last name, wished to leave also. SheÕd had enough of
being MarieÕs Ôspecial guest.Õ
Cindy had a hand clapped to her head and was holding on a broad-
brimmed straw hat, with a ribbon tied to it, lest the early winter wind
blow it away.
Trent found himself with the need to help Cindy into the carriage.
He did so, helping her up, patting her bottom as he did, for he had always
found it as darling as KateÕs.
ÒYouÕre going to live together?Ó Trent asked Kate.
ÒYes, love. She needs someplace sane to stay while she has her
pregnancy,Ó Kate answered.
ÒMarie is a bit nuts,Ó Trent said. The girls, Kate and Cindy, stared
down at him from the carriage. Kate had her hand on the door. She held it
open.
ÒSure you canÕt come?Ó Kate asked.
Trent shook his head.
ÒI can come, but, you know, I do need to get back to work,Ó he said.
ÒWell we might meet somebody in the meantime,Ó Kate said. SheÕd
never felt so free before. She liked the idea that her loverÕs plan might
have backfired. HeÕd brought her to MarieÕs to make her his forever but
instead, on this cold morning, her breath frosting the air and wearing
another womanÕs clothes, Kate felt sexually liberated.
Trent looked confused by her sudden change in demeanor. TheyÕd had
sex many times during the week, professing their love for each other. Yet
now, perched in the carriage, Kate seemed to be saying goodbye.
ÒYou surely can go out with me again this weekend?Ó Trent asked
hopefully. The driver of the carriage, feeling a little annoyed at the length
of their goodbye, aimlessly cracked his whip in the air.
ÒPerhaps, perhaps not,Ó Kate smiled. She felt CindyÕs breath against
her cheek. She was sure the two of them could find wonderful new men
together, the two of them partying on the weekends and living together.
She loved Trent but, at the same time, she wanted to meet other men. For
the first time in her life she felt truly free and content with her body.
She was gorgeous. Only 5 foot 2, perhaps, but gorgeous. Why should she
limit herself? And Cindy was a bombshell too, at least until her tummy
swelled.
Trent stood in the cold air staring up, his eyes questioning but
finding no answers.
ÒPerhaps, perhaps not, she said. Get a life!Ó Cindy chortled.
ÒBye, honey,Ó Kate said to Trent. She pulled the carriage door shut.
The driver heard it and struck hard at his horses.
The carriage pulled away, leaving Trent standing in front of the
brownstone.
Chapter Five
It was a private party. At MarieÕs, for experienced bondage
aficionados only. Kate, despite her conscience and her better judgement,
was in attendance. It was the following fortnight. Cindy was staying
with her, five weeks pregnant now, though her belly still didnÕt show it.
Marie had called them both, asking about them, concerned that their welts
were healing.
ÒYes,Ó theyÕd told her. Their welts had subsided and were almost
gone. She asked about Trent. Kate admitted that, handsome as he was, she
was bored with him. Marie said she was having a party. A special party.
ÒWill it hurt?Ó Kate asked bluntly. She knew what questions to ask
now.
ÒA little,Ó Marie admitted.
Kate wasnÕt sure sheÕd attend, she replied. But already sheÕd felt
butterflies in her tummy. And, when the night of the party came, she and
Cindy had put on makeup, and spent hours dressing and undressing, picking
just the right clothes, not sure theyÕd go but not sure they wouldnÕt. And
theyÕd called a cab just in case, and when it arrived theyÕd made it wait
forever, and then, kissing each other for confidence before they left KateÕs
dorm room, they headed downstairs together. A boy saw them holding
hands and kidded them. Blushing, theyÕd released their grip on each other.
TheyÕd not even known they were holding hands. In the cab theyÕd grabbed
each otherÕs hands again, instinctively, as soon as theyÕd gotten inside.
Cindy wasnÕt sure she wanted to go back to Marie. But she had to
admit that the previous Friday and Saturday had been less than exciting,
club hopping til three in the morning, meeting guys they werenÕt sure
about.
Now, at MarieÕs, they knew sheÕd watch over them. Everyone sat in
the living room, exchanging glances, admiring dresses and shirts and
menÕs trousers. There were about ten people, half male, half female.
Drinks were served by an engagingly dressed young waitress. She had long
blonde hair pinned up in a coiffure. She wore spiked heels and white
gloves, plus a stringy bikini. Nothing else, except her makeup and
earrings. But what was so shocking about her was her back. There were
new welts across her back. They were just under her shoulder blades,
where her bikini bra tied in back. And, looking at her, knowing about how
Marie whipped people, Kate wondered whether the lovely blonde waitress
had welts on her bottom too. Everyone wondered it, whispering, and at
last someone asked her.
ÒYes, and they hurt something awful!Ó the waitress said. She put
down her tray and turned around and pulled down the back of her panties.
People gasped, gathered to look. There were four welts slashed across the
girlÕs bottom. A woman traced her finger along the ridged red marks. The
blonde winced, and bit her lip.
ÒWhen were you given these?Ó the woman asked.
ÒThis afternoon. TheyÕre quite fresh,Ó the blonde waitress replied.
ÒPlease keep your panties down and let us see them,Ó the woman
said. ÒTheyÕre very lovely welts.Ó
ÒThank you,Ó the blonde answered. And because it was a bondage
party, the girl pulled her panties down in front and in back so that they
clung to the tops of her thighs. Then she picked up her tray and began
serving again, and taking orders for drinks, and bringing more crackers.
Marie entered. She was dressed to kill in a sleek, short black dress.
It was daringly decollete in front, showing her breasts right down to the
tops of her nipples. When she turned Kate saw that the sides of her dress
were slit up to her waist. Kate saw a slim band cutting across her waist
underneath, guessed it to be a G-string. Marie wore knee length boots that
had been carefully tied up the entire length of her shins. Looking at them,
Kate realized the boots had taken much longer to put on than the dress.
And that Marie, though she might be free of her dress in a minute, would
need forever to get her boots off.
ÒI see youÕve already got my serving girl to show her stuff,Ó Marie
laughed. She was beaming, ready to party. She took a drink from the
waitressÕ tray but hardly acknowledged the girl, looking instead with
pride at her guests. ÒWell, guys, I hope youÕre up for some fun tonight,Ó
Marie said.
ÒYou donÕt waste any time on small talk, do you Marie?Ó the woman
whoÕd asked the waitress to lower her panties said.
ÒI try not to,Ó Marie answered, laughing. ÒYou must be Lynette? The
girl from the agency that I talked to on the phone?Ó
ÒYes,Ó the woman answered. She was about MarieÕs age, with brown
hair and breasts that werenÕt as big as MarieÕs, but still plump. She was
slim and had very long legs. She looked like a runway model. ÒI could use
a break from all my photo shoots.Ó
ÒWell, I have something planned that will take your mind completely
off your work,Ó Marie smiled.
---
Packing Day
by Lisa Scarboro
I took my smile and put it back in storage today,
doesnÕt look like IÕll be needing it anymore. So
back it goes along with some hopes and dreams
that I had gotten out also.
I probably should pack them up more carefully,
but I just donÕt feel like bothering.
I know one thing for sure though, IÕm going to
shove them so far to the back of my mind that IÕll
probably never get them out again.
I know I said that before... but theyÕre so frayed
and tattered now that theyÕre more of an
embarrassment than anything else, and so hard
to keep together, it doesnÕt take much to damage
them further.
TheyÕre getting kind of old now anyway, itÕs not
like when they were young and strong and shiny.
Too many little holes to patch.
Too many little pieces to pick up when they fall
apart.
AND IN THE END...
ADVICE
for Chinese dissidents, medieval protestants, Roman Christians, and
pedophiles...
ÒGenes, as expressed in the brain, enable people to figure out
what a society rewards and punishes and to behave accordingly.Ó
- Newsweek, June 22, 1998, pg. 62.
(I guess weÕre all missing genes! - h.j.)
-------------------------- 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: roller666@earthlink.net in the box that appears.
Click on ÒfindÓ (the button to the right of the box).
-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!
-Also by David Hamilton: A Place in the Sun, and Twenty Five Years
of an Artist Need a book? http://www.amazon.com
- NAKED girls, under 18! Plus scholarly books. Publishing for over
a decade, itÕs AlessandraÕs Smile, P.O. Box 2377, New York, NY
10185-2377. Phone: 1-212-505-6985; Web:
http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
- JOIN the worldÕs greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, 537 Jones St. #8418, San Francisco, CA 94102.
Phone: 1-212-807-8578; Web: http://www.nambla.org
-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 386 EMISSION
Depeche Mode, ÒJuin 1998,Ó No. 119, $7.25. Slick, full-color
magazine, many pages. (Available at Tower Books.)