Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 69
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Desire Isle
Chapter Eleven
"Heels? We're going to the beach!" Melanie protested as Rob fitted
her feet first. The pumps did fit perfectly. Her measurements must have
been taken from the shoes she wore up to the suite.
"You do not like them? They were made by hand," Renoir said.
"No. I mean, yes, I like them!" Melanie said, stepping from one foot
to another now that both her feet were ensconced in the new heels. "It's
just that, well, I should be wearing sneakers or something!"
"This is a private beach we'll be going to," Rob said. "You'll find that
the normal conventions and restrictions don't hold sway there."
"Oh, great! It's a nudist beach!" Candy said, rolling her eyes.
"How gauche," Renoir observed. "We would never be so blatant."
Melanie looked at Candy. Rob fitted the redhead with shoes of her own.
Candy's eyes met Melanie's. Well, they had been paid, and very handsomely.
If they wanted to earn their living as tarts, they'd best learn to put up
with men's odder requirements.
When both girls were shoed they were escorted out of the penthouse
by Rob and Renoir.
Renoir stopped at the door. Candy turned about, followed by Melanie.
"Aren't you coming?" Candy asked. There was a doleful sound to her voice.
After a night of giving him pleasure, she had come to like the older man.
Melanie too seemed sad.
"No girls," Renoir said. "I have other business to attend to now. But
Rob will keep you company." Both girls still stood staring at him, like
rabbits caught in an open field. Renoir leaned forward and pecked Candy on
the cheek, avoiding her pouty, willing lips. He did the same to Melanie.
Then he drew back, stepped beyond the threshold of his suite.
"Come girls, surf's up!" Rob said pleasantly. The girls let their
attention slip momentarily to Rob. Behind them Renoir closed his
apartment door.
As the girls went clattering down the front steps to Renoir's
townhouse they saw two young women step out of a cab. The females,
also dressed in minks, breezed past them. Both Candy and Melanie turned
about to see the women slip inside the building. Candy and Melanie each
let out a little gasp. Those women--there could be no doubt! They were
whores just like themselves, albeit more experienced.
In the cab Candy asked Rob, "Those women we passed...Going in as we
came out...They were headed for Renoir's suite, weren't they?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Rob replied, a touch of a smile curling
the edges of his lips. He was flanked by either girl on the back seat of the
cab. Easily he lifted his arms and placed one around each girl. "Renoir
doesn't keep me apprised of all his little affairs, you know." Melanie felt
like grabbing Rob by the crotch and forcing him to answer. But, as her
heart beat faster, she already knew what Rob would not say. By now the
women were already disrobing, displaying their charms to Renoir. He
could afford to have a new pair of whores entertain him every day, every
evening. Melanie's eyes caught Candy's. They had been used, mere
playthings, and when Renoir tired of them he had cast them aside for new
toys. It was what they wanted...to be whores. But they felt a strange
emptiness inside.
Back at the hotel room the girls cast off their minks and proceeded
to dump their dollars out onto the floor. Then both girls sank down onto
the carpet and happily began counting their money as Rob looked on.
Rob sat in an overstuffed chair, lazily puffing on a cigarette, nursing
a scotch which he had procured from the girl's wet bar. It was delightful
to watch as the girls unburdened their bikinis of the bills. He felt almost
as if Candy was pulling the money straight from her snatch, and, for all he
knew, she was. Melanie tired of trying to yank all the money out and, first
casting a disapproving glance at Rob, she then simply shucked off her
panties and let it all fall out. Then, kneeling on the rug, her bush boldly
displayed, she thrust forward her boobs and reached behind herself,
popping her bra. The skimpy fabric retreated up her chest, held in place
now only by a string tied behind her neck. Out from underneath the
springing cups of her bra poured a cascade of money. Melanie was too
eager to count the money to worry about the drawstring behind her neck.
She let the cups of her bra dangle uselessly between her breasts as she
set about counting her booty.
"Let's divide it equally," Melanie chirped to Candy. "It's getting
mixed up already."
"Okay," Candy said and, taking her cue from Melanie, stripped off her
bottoms as well, then released her bra. Counting aloud, the girls began
piling up stacks of money. When they were done, they had $32,700. "Not
bad," Candy observed. "At least we came out ahead."
"I would have liked to have had the entire $100,000, though," Melanie
said. "Next time a man pays me to visit his penthouse I'm going to wear
clothes with lots of pockets, and bring a purse as big as a suitcase!"
"Rob, what's half of $32,700?" Melanie asked.
"Oh, about $21,000," Rob said airily.
"No it's not," Candy said testily, knowing Rob was only trying to
confuse them. "It's exactly $16,350!"
"Well girls, why don't you take a quick shower to get all that green
off, and then we'll go to the beach?" Rob asked. He was speaking
metaphorically, of course, but the girls did feel like primping a bit before
taking off again.
"You can wait outside now," Candy said to Rob, pointing. "Now that
you know we didn't try to cheat you when we counted the money."
"Very well," Rob said with a sigh. He stood. From the inside breast
pocket of his suitcoat he drew a pile of teensy fabric. "When you have
showered, I want you to dress--in this." He plopped the collection of
strings and bits of material on a nightstand. The girls gaped at the stuff.
It was obviously a new pair of bikinis, even smaller than the ones they had
worn before.
"We'll see about that," Candy said. Neither she or Melanie did
anything more than gaze open-mouthed at the tiny outfits. Then both girls
turned and trooped off to the bathroom. "Outside!" Candy hissed, turning
back toward Rob when she and Melanie had reached the bathroom that
adjoined their bedroom. With a soulful look in his eyes, Rob made for the
girl's bedroom door. As he excused himself from their bedroom he heard
their bathroom door, on the other side of their bedroom, shut tight. A
moment later he heard the sound of a shower being turned on.
After what seemed an inexcusably long time (at least to Rob, who
was sporting a noticeable bulge in his trousers), the girls' bedroom door
opened. To his surprise Candy and Melanie each stepped into the living
room totally naked. Their hair had been neatly combed and coiffed. Their
makeup, though they hardly needed any, was perfect. Their skin shone
from their bath. They were already wearing their new pumps, which
arched their heels five inches into the air. As for their even newer
swimsuits, they held these in their hands, bra in one hand, panty in the
other. "Rob, what is this?" Candy asked. "The bra hardly exists, and the
panties, well, they're weird."
"Maybe you should fit us into these yourself. Especially the panties,"
Melanie said in a voice that was softer than Candy's, and almost seductive.
"It would be my pleasure," Rob said, rising from a chair where he had
been impatiently waiting the return of the girls with a copy of Forbes.
The magazine, with all its 20th century wisdom on the highest of man's
material endeavors, was cast aside like so much flotsam for more
important matters.
Rob took the tiny bra from Candy's fingers, admiring her pink
cleavage, hating to cover it up. He had her turn about and then fitted the
bra to her boobies, carefully insuring that it did in fact manage to cover
her areolaes. The bra cups were composed of two tall, very slim triangles
of material. The base of each triangle cut straight across Candy's bosoms,
just below her nipples. The apex of each cup touched the very point where
the top of her bosom joined with her upper chest. Why, one would wonder
(as no doubt Candy did) would the triangle stretch so high, yet be so
skinny? It seemed a silly misuse of material. Rob, however, did not seem
to find his purchase lacking in the least. He turned Candy around again and
stood admiring her for a moment. Then, licking his lips, he accepted the
panties from her hand and knelt to fit her into those as well.
The panties were most unusual. At first glance they might seem like
any ordinary panties worn by girls at the beach. There was a string that
encircled the waist, which had to be tied at either hip. But then, running
from the front of the "panties" to the back, there was only a soft, velvet
rope. There was no seat to the panties, to cover a girl's bottom cheeks.
On either side of the rope in front there was a small swath of triangular
material, which served to cover (most) of the hairs of one's pussy. It is
important to note that the triangles of material were on either side of the
rope. They did not cross over it.
Rob had Candy lift her legs one at a time so that he could slide the
panties up them. The drawstrings had been pre-tied, but when Rob had
hoisted the panties as far as they would go he undid each tie in turn and
then retied it, very tightly. The effect of this was to pull the velvet rope
deep into Candy's asscrack. Also, the rope had managed to wedge itself
within the folds of Candy's pussy. Already Candy could feel that her every
movement would cause the rope to briskly rub her clitoris. Candy gave a
little shiver. The panties were not much different from the ones she had
worn before; a wedge of material covered her pussy in front, behind her
bottom was left bare. But the feeling of these panties! Could she really
stand to wear them? They were sure to send spasms of pleasure coursing
through even the most hard-hearted of Puritans that put them on. Now she
knew the purpose of the panties, a purpose she had only guessed at before.
Candy watched as Rob turned his attention to Melanie. The one consolation
she had was that Melanie would be suffering right along with her. And she
was sure Melanie would be even less able to cope with the outfit.
"I hope this is a very private beach," Melanie said a few minutes
later as the true import of the panties became apparent to her. Rob gave a
vigorous upward tug on the panties, causing Melanie to squirm visibly.
"Private enough," Rob said, and planted a kiss on one of Melanie's
jutting bottom cheeks. Rob stood. As the girls watched, he undid the
leather belt of his trousers. He pulled the belt from his trousers and
draped it about his neck. Then he unzipped his pants, and let them drop to
the floor. To the girls' surprise, he wore boxer swim shorts underneath.
The girls smiled, giggling. "Let's go!" Rob said.
The girls made to run to their bedroom to fetch miniskirts and T-
shirts. Then they stopped. They would have to walk, and slowly, if they
didn't want to orgasm. And neither girl was ready for that. With ginger
steps, the velvet ropes rubbing their clittys all the way, they walked into
the bedroom and got their clothes. Rob, staring after them with
admiration, called a rental company for delivery of a Wrangler jeep.
The girls' cut-off T-shirts fluttered alluringly in the breeze as Rob
whisked them in his jeep toward the beach. Candy sat in front, her T-shirt
flipping up occasionally to give a passing car a view of her abbreviated
bikini bra. Melanie sat in back, the passion that the velvet rope was
daring her with every minute concealed by sunglasses. Melanie's lips,
however, were wet, and she licked them often. Below, where the rope lay,
a micro-sized mini-skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. Melanie
wished she had rummaged in her things longer for a more concealing skirt.
The one she wore was almost useless. If she spread her legs, the skirt
rode even higher, giving an unrestricted view of her panties. If she closed
her legs, she squished the velvet rope deeper into her. Candy, perhaps by
design, was attired no more conservatively. Her lips looked wet too.
The beach was small and secluded. It consisted of a sandy shore
interspersed with slabs of flat, smooth rocks. Beyond lay a miniature
lagoon, which in places offered itself up slowly to a sinking shoreline and
which elsewhere simply abutted the shore, as the air might abut the top of
a cliff. The cliff parts were obviously for putting in boats, while the
gently sinking shore was for wading out to bathe. In the distance a
waterfall, no doubt as man-made as the rest of the place, tinkled its
offering of jewelled waters into the pool. Palms and shrubbery
surrounded all, save for a narrow opening at the very farthest point of the
pond, where the rumble of the distant ocean, in all its natural glory, could
be heard. Occasionally a particularly large set of breakers from the ocean
beyond would cause little wavelets to ripple across the diminutive bay.
Rob had driven the girls through a gate with a Hispanic guard to get to the
beach. The guard had only admitted Rob after being shown a plastic I.D.
card.
Several other couples lounged about the private waters. Melanie
wondered if any of the other women sunning themselves on the sand had
their pussies threaded by velvet ropes. Reluctantly Melanie and Candy
shimmied out of their micro-skirts. Thus denuded, Melanie gazed at the
beach once more, still ensconced, for at least a few more seconds, in the
relative privacy of the jeep. She felt like a little rabbit gazing from the
entrance to her burrow.
"C'mon, girls!" Rob called. He was behind the jeep now, unloading
stuff off its back. Candy kicked open the passenger door and stepped out.
Melanie followed.
Heads bowed shyly, Melanie and Candy glided down the beach to the
water's edge. They unfurled their towels as Rob made to set up a beach
umbrella. Melanie turned her head to see a young brunette woman with a
gorgeous figure sauntering toward her. Her tanned, golden body was
adorned with a jet black bikini. She wore a slide triangle top, similar to
Melanie's but with bigger cups to more fully conceal her bosoms. A thong
bottom, similar to the brazilian "U" bottom but without the back panel,
rode her hips. Upon her ears, when her mane of hair permitted it, the sun
glinted off golden gothic Circle earrings. "Hi, my name's Veronica. I don't
think I've seen you here before," the brunette said when she had closed
with Melanie. Her voice was whispery soft, like the breeze blowing
through the long-leafed palms.
"Uh, we're new here," Melanie replied. Rob looked up from where he
was impaling the sand with the umbrella.
"Hi Robert," Veronica called, giving a light wave with her hand.
"Hi!" Robert replied with a savvy grin. "How do you like my new
friends?"
"Very nice," Veronica said, passing her eyes over Melanie and Candy.
"A bit young, though, don't you think?"
"No," Rob said. "I don't." And he went back to his task of
establishing his umbrella on the beach.
"Well, any friend of Robert is a friend of mine," Veronica said, and
opened her arms to embrace Melanie. "Welcome to the grotto!" Melanie
received Veronica's hug warmly. As she was embraced, however,
Veronica's right hand deftly darted down her back and slipped around to
the front of her bikini. Deftly Veronica's slim fingers took hold of the
front panel of Melanie's bikini and tugged it upward. The velvet rope set
snugly betwixt Melanie's love lips rubbed across her clitoris. Melanie
gasped with pleasure.
The embrace done, Melanie and Veronica's bodies drew back a few
inches from one another. Melanie gulped, her eyes fixed on Veronica's. The
woman's gave no hint of what she had just done. Melanie stepped back, and
Candy innocently drew close to embrace Veronica in turn. Veronica turned
on Candy and gave her a similar hug, with the parting tug on her bikini
bottom. Candy too gasped.
By now Rob had planted his umbrella firmly in the sand. "How do you
like the girl's little outfits?" Rob asked Veronica, stepping up behind the
girls.
"Cute," Veronica said. "And no doubt useful. Perhaps you'll dress me
in one like that someday."
"I'm sure that could be arranged," Robert replied with a nervous
cough.
"We're about to have a picnic. Would you like to join us?" Veronica
asked Rob and the girls. Melanie and Candy looked at each other, then back
toward Rob as he replied,
"Why not?" Together they strolled across the hot sands, Melanie and
Veronica walking very daintily to keep from tripping in their heels.
Veronica wore flat, slightly elevated sandals, Rob wore zories.
In the semi-shade of a beach umbrella several of Veronica's friends
were laying out cold cuts and chilled, fruity wine coolers. Melanie and
Candy exchanged smiles and knelt on the blanket. Two other women were
present, along with two men. One of the women wore a Bandeau top plus a
swim skirt with nothing underneath. The hemline of the skirt was ragged,
as if it had gotten that way by years of wear in some tropical jungle. No
doubt, however, it was fresh from the bikini shop. Along the sides the
skirt was very short, while in front and back it flared downward to at
least give some pretense of modesty. She introduced herself as Diane.
The other woman, introduced as Sherry, had dispensed with a top
altogether. Her firm breasts, evenly tanned, jutted forth in twin cones of
firmness. Below her waspish waist a skimpy side-tie thong was all that
covered her there. Over her head, however, she had tied a scarf. It was a
shocking juxtaposition, the conservative, autumn weather scarf matched
with the stringiest of topless bikinis. In such company Melanie felt
obliged to pull off her T-shirt. Candy must have felt it too, for in unison,
without any prodding, they both pulled off their cotton tee tops.
Underneath their little micro-bras, now on display, were a match for any
garment in naughtiness. Melanie felt the men's eyes drawn to her bosoms
and blushed slightly.
ZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Slip and Smitty #3, 50˘ Minicomic, 16 pages. Brian Kirk, 93 Sunapee St.,
Springfield, MA 01108. mootcomics@aol.com,
76365.273@compuserve.com
Review: The first story, despite its enjoyable artwork, was
mindless. The second story, focusing on potato chips, was hilarious. The
third was moderately funny. So we have a score (on a 10 scale) of zero,
ten, and five. If I could do that well each weekend with girls IŐd be doing
alright!
AND IN THE END...
I CANŐT WAIT FOR FEBRUARY!
ŇFor the record, February is... National Cherry Month, [and]
Responsible Pet Owner Month.Ó - Playboy, March 1996, pg. 16.
(And, for all you busy mothers, remember that February is also
Return Shopping Carts to Supermarket Month! - h.j.)
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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-END OF 69 EMISSION