Message-ID: <15642eli$9809270529@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: FUCK DECENCY 403 Passions Playpen NND g2 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.net Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <360D8C9B.C9A@earthlink.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- holy joe for PRESIDENT ! A new political season is upon us. And a new T.V. season too. Allow me to make history, here on the Internet, by being the first person to declare his candidacy for U.S. President. Eventually other candidates will declare themselves, but hopefully the media will be fair and impartial by noting that I was first! Let me assure you that I do not intend to force any great changes on this country. With me in the White House, things will continue on their present course, which America obviously likes since it continues to give Bill Clinton a high job approval rating. Lying, perjuring, and philandering will be as much a part of the holy joe presidency as they have been of the Clinton presidency. Obviously, a few things will be different. For instance, I’m younger than Bill. So a 22-year-old intern is obviously too old for me. My interns will all be 12. Yes, feminism will not just be some meaningless byword in the holy joe White House. EVERY day will be “Take your daughter to work day,” and every night too, because all the interns will sleep upstairs with me in my private quarters. You may be wondering what my political platform will be. Don’t worry. I have studied the greatest heroes of history and I intend to emulate all of them. Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Genghis Khan, and Caesar will be my role models. And using them as a guide, I offer America the following prescription: global conquest. Why should America, the world’s sole superpower, dole out billions of dollars every year in foreign aid? It would be far better if we conquered these foreign countries, and taxed them. (You gotta admit, there would be no problem funding social security, if we did that.) Then there is the problem of nuclear proliferation. Korea, Iran, and Libya are all trying to acquire nuclear weapons. Instead of worrying about what these countries are up to, we should just conquer them. If they are busy working to pay taxes to Washington, they won’t have time to fool around with nuclear technology. With me as your president, the stock market, fueled by the prospect of American dominance, would go through the roof. “Dow 100,000” would be the slogan on Wall Street. You could afford to send your kids to college, and your grandmother too! As I see it, there is only one drawback to my plan. A country like Russia, or China, might retaliate, and start a nuclear war. However, I have already provided against this contingency. Remember all those 12-year-old interns I plan to sleep with every night? Well, if war breaks out, my interns and I will simply move to the Presidential Bomb Shelter. Then, even if America does get nuked, don’t worry! With plenty of 12-year-old interns in my bed, I will be able to repopulate our country quite quickly. And with SUPERIOR genetic material too: namely, that of a U.S. president! As you can see, there is no lack of “the vision thing” when it comes to a holy joe presidency! Why vote for some wimpy guy who needs to take a poll before he knows what to say? I assure you: I did not take any pole before making this speech! And I made it all by myself, too, without the aid of some slick political speech writer. Vote for me and turn on your T.V. I promise you’ll have plenty of exciting viewing with holy joe as your president! Andrew Roller Presents FUCK DECENCY NAKED girls and more at: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com Issue No. 403 Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in Passion’s Playpen Chapter Eight The dress bound the woman from her throat to her toes. She had long brown hair, pinned up neatly but loosely, as if she’d been interrupted. She smiled at Kate. Her dress, which held her tight as paint on a vase, was jet black. It was sleeveless, so the woman wore opera-length gloves on her arms. The dress dipped down in an inverted decollete arch, showing her bosoms, almost to the tips of her nipples, yet a collar that was part of the dress itself bound her throat. The dress was so tight that, looking at the woman, Kate fancied she saw the indentation where her navel was. And, as the woman gazed at Kate, all sweetness and full of welcome, her nipples rose through the sheer fabric of her dress. The woman turned around. Her dress was slit up each side. As she turned on her long stiletto heeled pumps her legs were bared by the swirl of her dress. She had breathtaking legs, which supported, as Kate saw, a firm round adorable bottom. Her back was bare. The black dress dipped so low that it showed more than half her bottom crack, exposing her softly clenching cheeks. There could be little doubt, once you saw this elegantly dressed creature from behind, what the night portended. In response John, who was standing beside Kate, holding her gently, popped a boner. Melinda glanced down at John’s newly risen crotch and giggled, though Kate thought she detected a trace of envy in Melinda’s laugh. Despite Melinda’s beauty, she and John had been living together for some time. Men always proved most responsive to a brand new conquest, Kate reminded herself. Kate was still in that category for John. She wore her dog’s collar around her throat and, when she and John stepped into the home, all the guests could see that she was handcuffed by one of her hands to John’s left wrist. Melinda travelled uncuffed at his right. She carried in her purse a small collection of John’s newly developed photos. It was a beautiful house. Kate permitted herself to gaze about. She felt scared and lonely and her pussy was hot, thanks to her masturbating, but she tried to relax and to convince herself that John wouldn’t punish her breasts. Drinks were served. The other guests, there were perhaps 20, gathered in the living room and exchanged small talk. Little mention was made of Kate’s being handcuffed to John. It was all taken in stride. Kate looked adorable in a short dress and blouse, both made of fine cloth, one dark lavender and the other a lighter shade of violet. She had frilled ankle socks on and graceful Jelly pumps, their long spiked heels reinforced to loft her up on her tiptoes. She wore a tight corset under her blouse, hidden there beneath her kid-like clothes, which lifted up her breasts almost obscenely but failed to cover her nipples. She wore no panties and her corset had no stockings to attach its base to. It left her pussy as exposed as her nipples. But nobody knew, gazing casually at her, for she was young and perhaps they thought she had high-perched breasts, which were high but not quite as high, in real-life, as the corset made them look, pushing them up rudely to show off her nipples the minute her blouse was removed. And Kate had no doubt that it would be. They were to spend the night, and her nipples were to feature prominently in the evening’s festivities, though nobody knew that yet, just that John had brought her for everyone to play with. “Some old faces, some new faces, eh John?” A man who introduced himself to Kate’s master said. “Who’s the bombshell hostess?” John asked. “A gal who’s new. To our area, not the scene,” Rex replied. “Who’s your little friend here?” His eyes passed to Kate’s prominent breasts. “Just a toy,” John said. He tugged at the collar around Kate’s neck. He grinned at Rex. “Don’t ask her to sit down.” Rex’s eyes widened. “She’s spirited, eh?” he asked. “She deliberately dropped one of my best tea cups,” Melinda said, though she hardly looked upset about it and her voice trailed away absently as the hostess offered her a flute of wine. “Your dress is simply gorgeous,” Melinda complimented their hostess. “Thanks. I look better without it, though,” the hostess, who was named Ruth, replied. “Who’s your friend?” “Oh,” Melinda answered, turning her head back toward Kate. “Just some teenager John’s breaking in.” She leaned forward and whispered something into Ruth’s ear. Ruth’s eyes grew wider and they both shared a secretive giggle. Kate, overhearing, tried not to blush, though she feared they were talking about her. The small talk continued. Everyone met everyone else and, underneath their pleasant remarks, they sized each other up for the evening’s games. Finally Ruth went over to Kate and, touching her politely on the shoulder, she said, in front of everyone, “I hear you were very brave last night. Could you show us what John did to you?” Kate gulped. Everyone, all the woman as well as the men in the room were looking at her. She let Ruth turn her around and then, with all eyes pasted on her from behind, Ruth gently lifted Kate’s skirt and showed them her bare bottom. A gasp went up from the crowd. Kate’s bottom, which they all instantly praised as adorable, had been marked quite distinctly by a birch. Melinda took credit for the marks. Everyone wanted to feel them and Kate was forced to suffer the indignity of a thousand fingers all nimbly touching her heinie. A few insinuated themselves naughtily into her crack. Others, particularly, it seemed, the long-nailed female fingers, actually passed between her legs and felt up her lovelips. They came away wet, for Kate was still aroused from her masturbating. John and she and Melinda had ended their session of scrabble without permitting themselves to cum. It had been a plan, Kate figured now, to make her more receptive. Her cunny was too hungry for her to flee the seeking hands which explored her. They gave her rump admiring pats and praised her for taking her punishment like a grown up girl. Ruth, boldly, when everyone had felt up Kate as much as they pleased, bent over and kissed Kate’s behind. “I hope that makes it a little better,” Ruth told Kate. She restored Kate’s dress. Kate thought herself free of the press of hands and eyes but then Ruth, taking the zipper at the back of Kate’s dress, said to her: “You’re bottom’s just too pretty to keep hidden. Especially with such fine marks on it. May I undress you?” And, without waiting for Kate to answer, though she did pause, though only to smirk confidentially at the other guests, Ruth took down Kate’s dress. A quick zip left it unable to remain at Kate’s hips and when Ruth drew her fingers away, it fell to Kate’s knees, where Kate caught at it with her hand. Ruth freed the dress from Kate’s fingers and let it fall down to her ankles. “Step out of it, please,” Ruth told Kate. She lifted Kate’s hand and made the girl step out of her skirt. In doing so Kate was aware of the dangling of her corset’s straps. They should have attached to long stockings, but John had given her only little girl’s socks to wear, frilled socks that rose only as high as her ankles. Kate observed the men’s eyes on her straps. They were slender and delicate and obviously made to attach to something, yet they wiggled with her every smallest movement. The two in front framed her blonde bush, swaying in front of it and inviting the eyes to center upon it. In back, her bottom was framed by two more unattached straps. Like little thongs they danced over her whip-marked bottom, as if to give it new stripes. ZINE EXPO ! “We are planning the Sixth Expo of fanzines and other alternative publications. Please send us your publications and zines. Send them to us by November,” writes Casa Municipal Da Juventude, Rua Trindade Coelho, No 3, 2800 Cacilhas - Portugal. (It’s rather hard to keep track of foreign events, but I think this is the same event that I have sent zines to a number of times in the past. They print a very fine catalog and send it out for free to all contributors. You will be quite happy that you participated. - h.j.) A Convolution In Her by Will Dockery As you fly in your little red space station, remember me. Harmonic Fractal Convolution. We both had our high tech cars, Plymouth, patriotic emblems, mojo rise, drink some medicine. This torrid confederacy, this torn nation, you tickled my back with fingernails, politicians making offers. You fly in your little red satellite, a country doctor's job, mixing medicine, between jaunts in the solar system. A pimp rastaman forcing me to sacrifice, held the rain for a human ransom, another crewmember disappeared. And I flew off, I went off into space with a gold robot bird. Undercover, crash down, a small little ghost story in Summerville. Thunderbag in trouble again, dark castle in bright hot Lee County. Wiped out, crashed out, low expectations, it's to the point, where I wish I'd never admitted loving you. But I still do. Harmonic Fractal Convolution. Great expectations, pink dawn glistens, she stopped for years in 1992, my hot breeze seemed to awaken her. Pookie and Puck and Dark Man, your friends in need, night visitors. A madman with stolen phasers, he interviewed the suspects and fell in love again. Zapping down the crewmen, forget me not beautiful friend. Harmonic Fractal Convolution, outside Shadowville, are the castles where we discussed the catastrophe. He creates artificial fractal ice crystals, blind eye for hire, I hunt the sphere of destiny. Crazy, crashed down, her tits like ripe melons, she says they should kill the Christ Buddha. People on the coast, desperados in green, the rat pack met the wise guys she is the go between. Look at the ocean so silver, watch the black cat run. Kittens walk on her back, she lay naked, open wide, she has night eyes, a late night itch. The Dark Man stalks so quiet and bold, I am by the trees waiting, I feel fear and loathing. Once a thief, runs his fingers into her charms, she carried his red mark. Can’t hardly wait, crashed out, city sins and a wide open country. Broadway runaround, trigger effect, you make me wait forever. A convoluted ceremony of pleasure, bringing bad things, the human drive to create new life, like mosquitos we suck and stuff your dark hungers. AND IN THE END... ANOTHER GREAT ROLE MODEL ! “On four national holidays each year, government buildings from Izmir to the Iranian border are festooned with 15-metre posters of the founder; Ataturk the infantryman or aviator; Ataturk the statesman, teacher or lover of children.” - The Economist, August 1, 1998, pg. 71, on Turkey’s Kemal Ataturk. -------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------ -Back issues (and stories): type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Click on “Power Search” in the middle of the screen. Find the box labelled “Main Archive”. Change “Main Archive” to “Complete Archive”. Next, do you see a blank box labelled “Power Search” ? Type in: roller666@earthlink.net in the blank box on the screen that has “Power Search” written next to it. Click on “find” (the button to the right of the box). -Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated or via the Web: http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/ -When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock Sturges’ Radiant Identities and David Hamilton’s 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, it’s Alessandra’s Smile, P.O. Box 2377, New York, NY 10185-2377. Phone: 1-212-505-6985; Web: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com - JOIN NAMBLA! 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 403 EMISSION AND ANOTHER ! “King David was now a very old man, and, though they wrapped clothes round him, he could not keep warm. His attendants said to him, ‘Let us find a young virgin for your majesty, to attend you and take care of you; and let her lie in your arms, sir, and make you warm.’ After searching throughout Israel for a beautiful maiden, they found Abishag, a Shunammite, and brought her to the king. She was a very beautiful girl.” - Kings 1: 1-4. (The Revised English Bible, Oxford University Press.) -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----