Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 117
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Holland Hunnies
Chapter One
High noon, yet the street was deep in shade. Towering elms shrouded
the approach to the brownstone, a slim house sitting side by side with
other, more domestic abodes. Next door a woman in her sixties puttered
among flowers, slightly ridiculous in her broad hat and oversized work
apron. Me in 40 years, I thought. A woman shaped like a pear, my beauty
gone, battling insects amidst petunias.
ÒToo much shade,Ó my boyfriend announced. He was standing in the
middle of the quiet street. WeÕd parked alongside the curb. Other cars
were scattered here and there, concentrating toward the brownstone, but
not with any obvious motive. As if perhaps there were a party inside, no
doubt a garden party, the time being mid-day. A lecture on the ladybug and
its reproductive habits, given by an expert to selected invitees.
ÒGet closer, then,Ó Mark called. He was already at the foot of the
porch. Someone inside must have sensed him, for the front door opened. A
healthy looking woman, quite normal looking, though quite beautiful,
stepped onto the porch. She was older, perhaps 30, perhaps a little more.
She was dressed quite conventionally in a loose blouse, perhaps hastily
put on, I realized. And overalls, tied at the waist. She looked as if she
were stepping out to do some gardening.
ÒMay I help you?Ó she asked. Her voice had a droll diffidence to it,
as if she were uncaring, yet amused at our presence. Peering close I
spotted a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. They and her open,
unthreatened stance seemed to invite us. She would not turn us away. She
would be disappointed if we did not come in.
Mark advanced, a hound with a scent. Rob too walked forward,
quickly, taking me by the elbow and dragging me along. We caught up with
Elizabeth, hesitating between us and the house, and took her in on the
crest of our lovetide.
Before I could quite get hold of myself I was indoors, within the
house. The front door closed behind me. We stood in a parlor, everything
arranged just so, as if having arrived as ministers to discuss the bible.
Yet as my eyes adjusted to the light, within the room with its curtains
drawn, I began to notice little odd bits; a snakeskin lash hung over the
mantelpiece, candle holders in the shapes of long penises, with wax
candles thrust down into them as if piercing them with urethral tubes.
And on a table there was a flower vase, but it held colored condoms, in the
arranged shape of roses. Lubricants were scattered across the
mantelpiece, different flavors, colors. The fireset next to the fireplace
seemed to possess some added power, as if the tongs and such could be
used for more than just rearranging smoldering logs.
ÒHi, IÕm Mistress Wentworth,Ó our hostess announced, slipping the
ties of her pants and drawing her blouse over her head. ÒSorry about the
clothes. The neighbors, you know. Got to keep up appearances, even if
they do know what goes on here. To keep the neighborhood children from
suspecting...Ó her sentence trailed off as she drew her legs from her pants.
They were long, white, modelÕs legs. She had hips to match, wearing black
velvet bikini panties, tied loosely at the sides. Above she wore a simple
openwork mesh blouse, hiding nothing, her big bosoms looking as if theyÕd
been caught in a fishermanÕs net. The blouse, such as it was, had a
decorative ribbon tied in front. It held closed the two halves of her
blouse, which otherwise would have hung from her shoulders like a vest.
Indeed it was a vest, except its latticework design, made completely of
strands of black yarn, kept nothing from our boyfriendÕs eyes. They stared
at this mermaid from the deep, her buoyant bosoms netted, her pussy
saved from their prying eyes by the skimpiest of bikinis. Of course, I
thought. She was sunbathing out back, topless, but with a little net of a
blouse to offer a touch of modesty when she got up to answer the door.
Except, seeing strangers, sheÕd put on a blouse and overalls. My mind still
tried to find normality, despite the curios displayed frankly around me.
ÒYou may undress,Ó Miss Wentworth, as my mind wished to call her,
given her youth and beauty, said to the men. I saw another woman only,
nothing more. She wanted my boyfriend, but she wanted ElizabethÕs also.
And then her eyes were on me, expectantly, wonderingly. She wanted me
to take off my clothes too.
Rob cleared his throat. ÒWe, uh, just wanted to see the place,Ó he
said. Miss Wentworth blushed. She was a normal female, at least now,
momentarily.
ÒYou are not the Lamprights? The Aspens?Ó she asked. A fine-
fingered hand touched her throat.
ÒNo, weÕre just -- well, IÕm Rob, this is Mark, these are our
girlfriends Sally and Elizabeth.Ó
ÒOh! The mistake is mine, then,Ó Miss Wentworth replied. Her hands
seemed to search for buttons to fiddle, but she wore nothing save her net
and panties, tied with pretty bows. ÒI thought you were my reserved
American guests, come to play. You are from America, are you not?Ó She
could tell by our accent. Her own voice had a Dutch flavor to it, though
perhaps with a bit of French intermingled.
ÒThe pleasure is all ours, belive me,Ó Mark answered, saving Miss
Wentworth the shreds of her modesty. ÒYou exceed even our girlfriends in
beauty, and they turned half the heads in Amsterdam yesterday.Ó
ÒIn such shirts I should think so,Ó Miss Wentworth replied. Her blush
was gone, replaced by a cheery glow. Frankly she looked at me, Elizabeth.
Even in this light, lit only by an overhead chandelier of modest
proportions, you could see our nipples. I sensed their pique, knew they
were embarrassing me as much as Miss WentworthÕs attire before
unexpected guests was embarrassing her. I felt dryness in my throat, said
nothing. Elizabeth too was silent. If our boyfriends removed their shirts,
or Elizabeth and I our skirts, we would be no better dressed than Miss
Wentworth.
ÒWould you like to rent a dungeon, then?Ó Miss Wentworth asked. ÒI
require reservations, but the paper did misprint my ad. YouÕre here now, it
would be a pity if I turned you away.Ó Her eyes apprised us, our
boyfriends. We were healthy specimens for sex play, no doubt, but in a
dungeon?
ÒHow much does it cost?Ó Mark asked. Miss WentworthÕs eyes
seemed to consider waiving the charge as he regarded him. But then
perhaps her state of undress before us forced her to be less generous. She
had to regain the upper hand, somehow, standing before unknown tourists
in her own home with no clothes on. Nothing to speak of, anyway, though
on a European beach she would have been perfectly legal; modest even,
with her pretty net top.
ÒIt is $200 U.S. dollars per hour, dear,Ó Miss Wentworth replied. She
turned, giving us a view of her shapely, barely covered bottom. Her hand
slipped onto a charge card machine on a round cherry rosewood table. ÒWe
take all major cards; American Express, Visa, Mastercard, Discover. I
assume you only want a dungeon for an hour or so, given that it is
midday?Ó She turned back to us, grinning, looked at me, Elizabeth. ÒHave
your girlfriends been particularly naughty today?Ó
ÒNo, no, theyÕre little angels,Ó Rob answered. ÒCould we see a
dungeon? What do you do in it?Ó
Miss Wentworth grinned from ear to ear. ÒOh, darlings, you are
virgins!Ó Rob and Mark exchanged glances. TheyÕd been up us enough to
know they werenÕt still cherry, although they complained we still felt like
we were. Miss Wentworth laughed. ÒNot virgin-virgins, obviously!Ó She
took a step forward, patted both Rob and Mark on their considerably
aroused groins. ÒThough you bulge like high school boys on a first date, I
must admit. Dungeon-virgins. IÕll cut the price to $150. What do you say?
Decide quickly for I must be ready for my other guests when they arrive.Ó
ÒI guess we could, for an hour,Ó Rob said, looking to Mark.
ÒYou come with the dungeon?Ó Mark asked, and I wanted to claw him
for it, though in fact he wasnÕt mine to claw.
ÒNo, dear,Ó Miss Wentworth said, patting his cheek now instead of
his groin. ÒLet me show you a dungeon and let you decide one way or the
other.Ó She turned, her net vest swishing round her waist, and walked
quickly down a hall, opening a door at the back of the parlor first, stepping
confidently through the doorway even as we followed like lost sheep,
looking for a shepherd. Her spiked heels clicked on a hardwood floor. Our
sneakers shuffled across it.
At the back of the hall Miss Wentworth pulled open a door. It was
stuck a little, and when she got it free her large bosoms bobbled within
her net blouse. Twin mountains trying to shake off snow, they seemed,
though the net remained still when they had ceased wobbling.
ÒHere, this one has everything,Ó she replied. ÒWhatever your heart
desires. Simple spanking, birching, or even piercing, though IÕd do that
with an expertÕs help, if I were you, unless youÕve done it before. I just
re-habbed it, thereÕs some stuff at the back, awful, scary stuff, used in
the inquisition or something. You can remove penises and nipples with it,
so be careful. Anyway, hereÕs the rape rack, some over-large dildos,
thereÕs some cuffs here, a branding iron if youÕre adventurous...Ó We were
inside with her before we knew it, staring, goggle-eyed in our appearance.
I reached for RobÕs hand, pressed myself close to him.
ÒNo, no,Ó Miss Wentworth said, turning and facing us, the
spectacular equipment all around us. ÒYou are his girlfriend?Ó I nodded.
ÒYou must have, Mark is it? Yes, you must have Mark then, and Rob must
have Elizabeth. Be a little bold, at least.Ó She exchanged us, patting our
bottoms in encouragement, so that I stood huddled with Mark and Elizabeth
with my Rob. ÒThere. Now how about those skirts, girls? This is not a
bathroom, or a bedroom, but IÕll bet you wouldnÕt mind it if your new
boyfriends got buckets and washed you down, would you? Or fucked you on
the bondage table instead of in a bed?Ó I fiddled with the belt of my
miniskirt, unbuckled it but did no more.
ÒI guess we could, ah, look around for an hour or so,Ó Rob said. He
surveyed the room. ÒIt would be quite the thing to talk about back home.Ó
ÒHell, forget the talk,Ó Mark said. He spoke boldly but kept his
clothes on. ÒWe should enjoy ourselves. IÕd like to stay all day.Ó
ÒIf you wish, I could waive the charges entirely,Ó Miss Wentworth
offered. ÒI have a special couple. They live next door. They relish seeing
newbies try out a dungeon. All the doors to the dungeons have a peephole
in them, so I can check up on people. Usually they are closed. But if you
let me leave one open, for my voyeuristic couple, I will charge them
instead of you. That way you could enjoy the dungeon for as long as you
wish, for free! You wouldnÕt be expected to do anything, just do what
comes naturally.Ó She cast her eyes over our boyfriendsÕ substantial
groins, immodestly concealed in their tight little shorts.
ÒOkay,Ó Mark said, making the decision for all of us. ÒLeave the
peephole open. WeÕre from America, no one knows us, weÕll never be back.
Let whomever look at us, though I canÕt say weÕll do anything except
admire your equipment.Ó
ÒIÕm sure the same would please them,Ó she replied. ÒWould you
mind if I interrupt you now and then to bring you refreshments?Ó
ÒCanÕt say weÕll stay that long, but sure,Ó Rob replied. ÒPut them on
our tab, so to speak.Ó
ÒOh, refreshments are always free,Ó Miss Wentworth replied.
ÒThough IÕm not always the one who serves them.Ó There was promise in
her eyes. The men cast their glance over her figure again, relieving her of
her panties with their stare, leaving her the net perhaps. With an alluring
wiggle in her bottom, self-conscious perhaps, she made for the door. She
slipped out, closed it behind us. We heard it lock from outside. We were
alone. The room was cool, like a wine cellar. Yet I found my fingers at my
belt again, separating the tongue from the buckle completely.
Mark was the first to drop his shorts. His cock sprang free, released
at last from the binding fabric. Rob saw us girls dart our eyes to his
manhood, painfully erect and throbbing. He did not want to be outdone. He
dropped his own shorts, gave us a breathtaking view of his own dick,
powerfully hard and aroused.
ÒWhere did she say that cock-cutting off machine was?Ó Elizabeth
smirked at me. We both felt slightly embarrassed, seeing our boyfriends
displaying themselves to our eyes. Neither of us had ever seen the otherÕs
boyfriend naked before.
ÒThey are naughty,Ó I agreed. I stepped up to Mark and placed the tip
of my finger over his pee hole. The fact that we were being watched had
escaped me entirely by now, given how excited I was at being in such an
odd place, with ElizabethÕs boyfriend standing naked in front of me. ÒSir, I
hope you are not absolutely lewd. You arenÕt going to show me that white
stuff in your balls too, are you? IÕll keep my finger right here to keep you
plugged up if I have to.Ó Teasingly I indented the head of his cock, afraid
that his seed would come burbling up all around my fingerÕs tip. I could
not stop him if he wanted to cum, I knew.
ÒDonÕt worry, I can control myself as well as your boyfriend can,Ó
Mark assured me.
ÒCome on, girls, show us your panties at least,Ó Rob whined, perhaps
irritated a bit at how quickly I took to Mark. Elizabeth had her back to
him, contemplating perhaps the location of the penis removal device.
ÒWell IÕm getting totally buck naked,Ó Mark announced. IÕd stepped
back, denying him any further attention. I walked to Elizabeth and took
her hand. We exchanged smiles. ÒI want to be able to say that I stood
naked in a dungeon in Holland, with Miss Wentworth watching me through a
peephole.Ó Jealously I turned, watched as Mark removed every stitch of
his clothing, right down to his shoes and socks. My Rob did likewise,
lustily bandying his cock about when he was barefoot and bare, as if Miss
Wentworth herself were at this moment masturbating her clit on the other
side of the door, watching it all with relish.
I reached back, unzipped my skirt, my too short miniskirt that could
not be seen in polite company in the out-of-doors, if one were to believe
the prudes of this world. I showed my panties between the unzipped
halves, then let the dress drop to my ankles, leaving me only my undies
and tee. And my sneakers, of course, for walking, though there was not
much room to walk in here. ElizabethÕs dress slithered down her legs and
she stepped out of it. I left mine behind, advancing a step. Then she and I
both pulled up our t-shirts, lifting them with crossed-over arms so that
our nipples wiggled nicely when the hem passed over their stiff tips.
ÒThe panties too,Ó Mark said, as we strolled bare-chested toward
our boyfriends. I slipped mine down, hesitated at mid-thigh, then cast
them down the rest of the way and lifted my still-sneakered feet out of
them. Elizabeth did likewise.
ÒI donÕt care about the sneakers,Ó Mark said, as I bent over to untie
mine.
HOLY JOEÕS HELP LINE
lost6soul@aol.com writes: Òi posted a Message here awhle ago about
the color of my nipples.. turns out i didnt get really any responses.. my
nipples blend in with my Skin.. can you tell me if this is natrual?? also..
what is the average guys dick size.. cause i know i am really tight.. thats
why i is curious.. thanks for your time.Ó
holy joe replies: Well, I donÕt exactly go around measuring menÕs
penises. But my own weighs in at about 3 feet long, half a foot wide. I
think this is the normal size for most guyÕs dicks. Naturally, given what
youÕve written, youÕll have a problem accommodating the average male
penis. Especially the average male penis of a man who spends all his time
reading alt.sex.stories!
Since youÕre tight, you need to make yourself looser. This is no
problem. Simply go to your local grocery store. Tell the clerk, ÒI need a
cucumber to shove up my twat.Ó He will be very helpful. You could go to a
porno store instead, but itÕs very humiliating to ask a clerk in a porno
store for a dildo.
Now, when you get your cucumber home, you must begin the twat-
loosening process. You must shove the cucumber all the way up inside you
and then pull it back down. (DonÕt let go!) In and out. Practise screaming
while youÕre at it. All ladies have to scream when a big dude like me, or
one of the other a.s.s. dudes, fucks them. DonÕt worry about the neighbors.
They all have sex themselves so theyÕll know youÕre simply preparing
yourself for sex by masturbating.
You may need encouragement. Some females find it very scary to
shove a cucumber up their twat in order to loosen themselves. But thatÕs
what men are for. Just go to the nearest bus stop and invite the guys who
are hanging around waiting for the bus to come home with you and
encourage you. Usually one or two guys will be very nice and accompany
you home to watch you fuck yourself.
About your nipples. All women have hair on their nipples. YouÕll
need to buy some hair tonic and begin sprinkling your nipples every day so
you can grow a nice thatch of nipple hair on your nipples. YouÕll need to do
this because, otherwise, without hair, men will think youÕre underage.
Now, you didnÕt ask about your asshole, but I figured IÕd give you
advice on it anyway. As I see it, youÕre a pretty big asshole, so your
asshole may not need to be bigger. But, just in case, it wouldnÕt hurt to
shove something up your ass while youÕre widening your twat on your
cucumber. Just take a nice big police nightstick and shove it up there. If
you have any trouble making it fit, get a policeman to give you his gun.
(You probably know some cops, right?) Fire a bullet up your ass and that
should help loosen you up.
Please post again on a.s.s. if you have any further questions. DonÕt
worry, you wonÕt look like an ass!
AND IN THE END...
DEPO-PROVERA REVISITED
ÒFemales are usually easier to train than males, while non-neutered
males are generally the toughest of all.Ó
- Cooking Light, October 1996, pg. 48.
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-END OF 117 EMISSION