Message-ID: <859eli$9705221103@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: Andrew Roller Subject: FUCK DECENCY 272 Bush League (nnd) g2 NOTE TO THE READER: Currently it is impossible to subscribe to, or unsubscribe from, FUCK DECENCY. This is due to spamming of my Internet account: roller66@inreach.com Apparently, this spamming is being done by right-wing Christians. They want their views to be passed into law, and engineered the writing, and passage, of the Communications Decency Act. As with Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Germany, NO dissent is permitted by these right-wing Christians. Not even my little newsletter. If you enjoy getting FUCK DECENCY, do nothing. 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I am not on the Net to surf, chat, play games, or, frankly, to read e-mail. The FUCK DECENCY subscription service is a luxury. It is not a necessity. It is, in the end, irrelevant to my publishing operation. Andrew Roller Presents FUCK DECENCY Issue No. 209 Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in Bush League Chapter Three “You, sir, are a pervert,” I told him. And he was, too. He must have eyed his little daughters every day, wanting them, but quite unable to have them, of course, because they were born for other men, not their father. Now there was a real girl, with boobs and all, displayed in the seductive, captivating infant seat. One he could fuck at will, with Cheyenne playfully pushing her. And there was me, of course, the nearest twat. We were all just twats, I think, and him a cock. We cared nothing for him, nor he for us. But we did have a healthy admiration for each other’s privates. I reached under Brent’s cock and clasped his balls. They were huge, hairy. I cupped them gently, afraid to hurt them, they seemed so full and swollen. I felt his twin eggs and carefully gave each one a little squeeze. “You’re in need of emptying, sir,” I told Brent frankly. “You could hurt yourself, trying to carry around this much sperm. How do you manage to find pants that fit you?” I squeezed each of his eggs again, more forcefully. I think he liked the idea that I might hurt him. “Ohhh,” Brent moaned. His huge chest rippled with his anxiousness. He wanted to cum, yet he did enjoy so much playing with himself, I think he just wanted to be stiff forever. “I’ve had such a cold wife,” Brent told me. Really, I didn’t want to hear about his wife or his family problems, but he told me anyway. “Yet, every night, I had to bathe my daughters. They were so.... open, available.” “Yes, sir, you’re developing quite a pedophile problem,” I told Brent, meanwhile taunting his balls with ever more rudeness, squeezing, pinching them a little. Then I got an idea. “You need to watch two grown-up girls take a bath,” I said to him. I turned to call to Cheyenne. She was bending under Polly’s seat. “Look, these dildos can be turned on!” she exclaimed. “Oh, don’t!” I said. But I hadn’t selected them with the purest of intentions. Polly’s eyes were wide as she realized what would happen. Wide as saucers. She burbled something but her penis pacifier kept us from hearing. BZZZZ! I heard suddenly, and then it was joined by a second. Cheyenne laughed. She’d turned on both of Polly’s underneath dildos, sparing only her mouth. WAAAK! Polly screamed within the plugging fulness of her oral dildo. She buzzed atop the twin dildos in her ass and cunt, shivering right along with them, her boobies shaking on her chest. “Come, bath time,” I called to Cheyenne. I wanted to get all this ice cream off me. I walked to the baby pool, leaving Brent to fist himself, and bent and turned on the wall faucet. The hose gurgled and began filling the inflated pool. “Oh, thank God,” Cheyenne said. I’m tired of being a walking ice cream cone. She tossed her hair and walked over to the me. Polly was left to suffer the buzzing visitors in her holes. “I’m thirsty,” I said. I knelt down outside the pool and stuck my head over the rapidly rising water. Cheyenne joined me, and together we lapped fresh water from the clean plastic pool. Brent, meanwhile, let out a new groan of pleasure, watching our bare asses. We tightened them. His prick was so near, and neither of us wanted to get butt fucked by him. We just wanted to play. I felt my tits swaying underneath my chest as I lapped at the water. I was female. The male prowled somewhere behind me. Would he swoop down and fuck me? I hoped not. I didn’t want him to. Yet I couldn’t resist teasing him. Fortunately, Brent just kept fisting himself, admiring us both so much that he couldn’t decide which of us to take first! “Mmm, the water’s cold,” Cheyenne said to me. “I know. It can’t be helped,” I replied. We both got up and stepped into the chilly water. She lifted the bubble bath and sprinkled some into the tub. She stirred the powder with her foot to make the bubbles grow. “Sit down, cowards. Get your bottoms wet,” Brent told us. He came up to us and Cheyenne and I both sank down to avoid him. He was as lusty as a satyr. “Ohh, it IS cold,” Cheyenne exclaimed as her bottom touched the water. Reluctantly she sat in it. I sat down too. I felt the chilly water envelope my bottom and invade my slit. I stared at her, she at me. “Well, we’re seated, at least,” I said to her with big eyes. “I hate cold baths,” I admitted. “Me too,” Cheyenne replied, but then she splashed me. She didn’t mind, I guess, if she made me chilly. I splashed her back. She picked up a loofah brush. There was a soap squirt beside it. Boldly she squirted my tits, first one nipple, then the other. “The soap smells good, at least,” I said. It was creamy and fragrant. “I wish it was edible,” Cheyenne admitted. “You would!” I laughed. She took the loofah brush and carefully began scrubbing my tits. Her strokes were bold in their carefulness. I felt like I was a vestal virgin being prepared for some bizarre sacrifice. Cheyenne passed the bristly sponge-like brush over my nipples. I gasped. “Wait ‘til I get to your slit,” Cheyenne smiled at me. “I wonder if this would feel nice being stuffed up you?” The brush was long and cylindrical, shaped like a barren cardboard center from an empty roll of paper towels. “You are a domme,” I said to her. “But you haven’t been whipped by Branson yet. Then you can be domme. Until then, I am.” “Whipped?” Cheyenne asked. Her strokes slowed. “Every girl must be,” I told her. “A penal whipping, as repentance for all the bad things she’s going to do here at the castle.” “Have you been?” she asked. Her face was contemplative now. She’d ceased washing me with the brush. I took it from her. “Yes,” I answered. I grabbed her lovely hair. “Turn around. Show me your bottom,” I told her. Reluctantly Cheyenne got turned round in the make-believe tub and bent herself over. She had to rest her elbows on the towel outside of the pool. Half in, half out, her knees in the water but her elbows outside it, her legs splayed open in the water but her head hanging over the floor and the towel, Cheyenne presented her bottom to me. “Very good,” I said. “You obey well.” Then I ran the loofah brush boldly between the cheeks of her ass, scrubbing her tender ass crack briskly. Cheyenne gasped as she felt its bristly sponginess dig deep into her cleft. “Yes, whipped,” I teased her. “How sore you’ll be when it’s all over! But it must be done, before you can be a domme.” “Umph,” Cheyenne breathed. I think she may have started to say ‘yes,’ but at the last moment she stuffed her fist into her mouth and suppressed the sound so that it was inaudible. “I’m going to cum,” Brent announced. He thrust forth his hips and fisted his big cock vigorously. “Cum in my mouth, then, I don’t want it all shooting into our bath water,” I told him suddenly. I turned and offered him my lips. He thrust himself into me and I prepared myself to begin swallowing. I wanted to get clean in this tub, however cold the water might be, and go tie up Cheyenne for her whipping. I wanted to engineer it, to make it happen now, with me in charge of her. Brent was just an obstacle. Perhaps his passion could be got rid of. Then he would leave us alone. “Unh, unh, unh,” Brent groaned. He began shooting himself into my gasping mouth. I struggled to swallow fast as his jism suddenly erupted. My God! I felt like I’d put my mouth over Old Faithful! He shot merrily, lustily, relieving himself of days, perhaps months, of sexual tension. Meanwhile I lightly tickled Cheyenne’s slit. She mewled soft sighs of pleasure. Her boobies shook as mine were shaking, while Polly, poor girl, was left to be unpleasantly amused in her swing seat. Chapter Four “I hate you!” Polly declared when I finally, with the help of Cheyenne, managed to extract her from her infant swing. Brent had left us to our own devices as soon as he’d cum. We were alone in the attic. Cheyenne and I finished washing ourselves. We were quite clean now, and ready for whatever the day portended. We took Polly to the baby pool and ran in more water and washed her too. Cheyenne placed more towels around the pool to keep our knees dry. Someone would have to vacuum this room’s rug quite well after we left, at least where the pool was. We’d not been too careful about keeping the water where it belonged. Oh well, I told myself. There was semen on the rug too, where Brent had dribbled after cumming in my mouth. Maria, no doubt, would clean up after us, or perhaps Kelly. It was our job merely to play. When Polly was clean as a newborn Cheyenne and I got her out of the tub and dried her off. I slapped her bottom. “Go downstairs, Polly, and find someone to play with,” I told her. “Cheyenne and I have business to attend to.” “I WILL!” Polly said sulkily. She was still upset about being fucked to death in the infant swing. She padded off across the rug, managed to get the attic’s trap door up (after dropping it twice), and scooted herself down the ladder just as fast as she could. I looked at Cheyenne. I put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s do our makeup,” I told her. She was quiescent. She let me lead her to the toy cupboard. I found a compact for each of us and a makeup kit for us to share. I took her to the children’s table. We sat on the hard little seats and did our makeup, our knees up to our chests, our legs wide, showing our slits. I made her rouge her nipples when she’d finished her face. I powdered her pussy for her. “Come along,” I told her. I stood up, she stood also. I took her hand. We went to the trap door and I went down the ladder. She followed. I gazed up at her bottom as she came down after me. “Should I shut the door?” she asked me. She meant the trap door. “Leave it open,” I told her. “The place must be tidied up.” “Okay,” Cheyenne replied. When she was standing beside me I took her hand again. I circled a fingertip around her nearest nipple. “It’s time for your whipping,” I told her simply. I don’t know if she believed me or not. But she let me lead her, and I took her to my room. “We’ll use my bedroom,” I said to her. I opened the canopy so she could get up within my bed. I made her stand on my bed while I knelt behind her. I was quite aware of her bottom, jiggling sweetly in front of my face, and I knew she was too. I kissed it, once on each cheek. It was creamy and white. She was ready to enjoy new adventures with it. I reached around her hips, got hold of the post to which she would have to be tethered. I snapped it up from the wall and latched it onto her dog collar. We were fortunate, having our manacles always on us, keeping us ready for punishment. Cheyenne opened her mouth and waited while I flipped up the second post, the one that lay atop the first and held the soft rubber ball. When it was up I stood and bent her head gently forward. She accepted the ball within her mouth. I stroked her hair. “This is going to hurt,” I told her. I lifted her hands high and then bent them back and attached them to the rear of her dog collar. I kissed her face. She had nice blushing face cheeks. Her lips were stretched over the ball, as if it were some huge cock forcing itself into her mouth. Rose peeked within the canopy. Had Polly told her what I had planned for Cheyenne? “There you two are!” Rose exclaimed. “I’m going to give Cheyenne her judicial whipping now, with your permission,” I told Rose. “She wants to be a domme, but she can’t, can she, until she’s had her whipping?” Rose put a hand to her throat. “You are not qualified, dear,” she told me. “You might injure her.” “I’ll do my best not to,” I replied. “You can supervise me if you want to.” “Alright,” Rose answered. “But afterward I’m going to insert your butt plug. It’s time we began widening your hiney.” I gulped. For a moment I just stood behind Cheyenne, caressing her bottom cheeks with my hands. Cheyenne jerked now and then, why I don’t know. “Okay,” I said finally. Rose nodded. “Be good, Cheyenne,” she told my sweet victim. “This will give you more privileges at the castle. Although, I daresay, I’ve hardly restricted you so far, as I should have,” she smiled. “Nonetheless, all girls must have this, so don’t despair. Keep your chin up. Louis and Andre should be done with Brent’s wife by now. I’ll invite them all in to watch. I’ll have Maria bring some food and we’ll have quite a celebration while you suffer. You can be our centerpiece, Cheyenne, inspiring us all!” Polly padded into my bedroom. Carefree, innocent, she sucked her thumb as she carried the satchel of implements with which Cheyenne’s bottom would be whipped. I had not even thought of the implements yet. I guessed Polly must have, in fact, told Rose of my plans, and now all was set in motion. I had been so intent on securing Cheyenne to the post above my bed that, I guess, I must’ve simply thought of using my hand to paddle her. It shows you what a ‘bush-leaguer’ I was. I guess it meant I belonged at Rose’s Cunt Castle after all, since she was, according to Glenda’s boyfriend, hardly the maven of S&M she claimed to be. Yet as I watched Polly plop down the bag on the bed beside me, and unzip it, and Cheyenne’s quivering bottom cheeks as she saw, in a mirror, all the insidious implements it contained, I think Cheyenne, at least, considered herself in for more pain than she wished. I drew from the bag a half-inch wide lash made of elegant snakeskin. It was long and promised to curl with deadly force into the soft waiting cheeks of Cheyenne’s bottom. I think the prospect of showing off her white bottom and daring me to whack it seemed less intriguing to Cheyenne, even as Andre and Louis, our loves, stepped within my bedroom to watch. Despite the rigors of entertaining Brent’s wife, their cocks hardened the minute they saw me with Cheyenne. She mewled a protest but neither of them made any move to rescue her. Chivalry in this case meant refraining, not interfering. AND IN THE END... The Christians’ next project: BURN THE LOCAL LIBRARY !!! “He came down to her Saying: ‘My dear, the chains that ought to bind you Are love-knots rather than shackles. May I ask you Your name, your country, the reason for this bondage?’ At first she made no answer, too much the virgin To speak to any man; she would have hidden Her modest features with her hands, but could not Since they were bound.” - Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book Four, lines 678-685. -------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------ -Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: not available at this time. -formerly I was roller666@aol.com -To unsubscribe: not available at this time, due to spamming of my Internet account by right-wing Christians. -JOIN the world’s 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. -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder. -END OF 272 EMISSION - This is great. I can talk all I want, and I don’t have to listen to any negative feedback. Thanks, Christians! -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /