HOLY JOE SWORN IN
My fellow Americans, it is with great pride that I announce my
swearing in as President. To be sure, like Bob Dole, I was not sworn in as
President of the United States. However, unlike Dole, I was sworn in as
president of something.
I was sworn in as President of the United States Outhouse Society.
You may think, at first glance, that this is somehow demeaning to me. Not
so! The Outhouse has served an extremely important function in our
nationÕs history. Prior to the invention of indoor plumbing, ALL the great
men of our nationÕs history repaired on a regular basis to outhouses!
Presidents, statesmen, foreign ambassadors, inventors, poets, slaves and
slave holders. It was a common experience, shared by all.
Sadly, the outhouse has today faded from the American scene, which
is why there is the United States Outhouse Society! It is dedicated to the
study and preservation of this important part of AmericaÕs past. Ask a
schoolchild what is the difference between a president of yesteryear and
a president of today -- between, say, Abraham Lincoln and Bill Clinton, or
between George Washington and Richard Nixon? Why, the difference is
that the former men used outhouses, while the latter did not! And what is
the difference between the America of the Bible and the America of
Hustler? Why, the outhouse!
It is the goal of the United States Outhouse Society to renew
America by popularizing the use of the outhouse. For those who complain
that they must have their modern conveniences, I ask, what is convenient
about a toilet? For one thing, it has a flusher. An outhouse has no need of
a flusher! A toilet can overflow. An outhouse never overflows! Drugs
flushed down a toilet are gone. Drugs dropped in an outhouse have to be
fished out by the police! (A rare spectacle these days, alas.)
A toilet, furthermore, is just that. A room. An outhouse, on the
other hand, has a certain sense of place. It has an air about it. It is
ecologically sensitive, supporting not only the human who built it but also
other forms of life, down below and up above. It is a part of nature.
Leaves fall on it in autumn and grass grows between the floorboards in
spring. Snow and cold air make it an adventure in winter, while in the
summer it provides shade. For those who lack a fishing hole, but have an
outhouse, there is the opportunity to cast your line in your outhouse. At
least there youÕll catch something.
So it is with a sense of time past and traditions lost that I read my
Inaugural Poem. In a spirit of ecumenism, to bring us all together, users
of outhouses and not, I have composed it with an eye to generic
defecation, that we may begin my term as President of the United States
Outhouse Society as one Nation:
Lowly as the turd may be
Still it has a place, you see:
For falling out of my butt
It giveth room inside my gut
So that to the fast food joint
I may once again appoint
My footsteps to quickly go
Lest I miss a meal, you know!
Thank you and may God Bless the Outhouses of America.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 172
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Puppy Love
Chapter One
ÒNow pee,Ó Anna told me.
ÒWhat?!Ó Rachel shouted. IÕd been through so much, I had to laugh.
Quickly, before Rachel could escape, and having to go quite badly, I let go
of myself. My pee spritzed down as Rachel turned her face up to confront
the awful truth that was inexplicably pouring from me. ÒACKCCK!Ó Rachel
cried, too stunned to move, as my pee hit her directly in the face and even
spouted into her gaping mouth. ÒNo! No! No!Ó poor Rachel protested. I
grabbed her ponytail and lifted it to keep her in place, tugging on it
warningly. She sat immobile as my pee drizzled down all over her hair,
her face, and onto her expensive schoolclothes, with their embroidered
letter. SheÕd won it cheerleading, I guessed, but now it was all wet with
my pee!
ÒHa! Ha!Ó I giggled, unable to help myself. I restrained her by her
ponytail until I was done. Anna gave me a friendly slap on my bottom.
ÒNaughty girl!Ó she said. ÒBut showing such promise. Rachel, get out
of your things this minute! How silly of you to take your bath that way!Ó
ÒBut you told meee,Ó Rachel whined, very sad indeed, most of all
from the humiliation sheÕd endured at our hands.
ÒItÕs what you get for flunking Teacher 101,Ó Anna replied. Rachel
removed her pee-sodden clothes and tossed them sulkily out of the tub. I
remained standing for Anna as she scrubbed me gently with the brush. She
wet me with her hands first, using handfuls of water, savoring the touch
of my wettening flesh in her fingers. She fondled my nipples as if they
were little penises. Instinctively I thrust my cunt out at her, hoping for
the same down where my thighs met, in my most secret place. Rachel,
still pouting, picked up a rubber ducky and sailed it around and between my
legs as she waited to be washed in turn. We were AnnaÕs children, it
seemed. She was our mother, elegant in her sequined gown, getting a
little water on it as she washed me, her hands becoming soapy as she
worked the bar of lavender-scented soap over me. Eventually Rachel and I
were both sparkling clean and we rinsed under bucketfuls of water, not
allowed to sit, each of us taking turns with a little brass bucket that sat
waiting for us to use it along the side of the tub. Pillows and soft towels
were at the back of the bathtub, where there was a space large enough for
Rachel and I to sit, side by side. Anna put both of us there, made us open
our legs, and got in the tub after sheÕd drained it. She cast a towel over
the tub floor, knelt upon it, and trimmed our pubic hair. Then she painted
our toenails and fingernails with a light red polish. Finally she redid our
makeup, careful to use only the waterproof kind.
ÒNow to bed, both of you!Ó she said. We clambered off our cozy perch
at the back of the tub, over its side, and out onto the floor, all legs and
arms, like newly-birthed gazelles, awkward and tingling. I never felt so
cared for. Anna ushered us both from the bathroom and back to our
bedroom. The bed was newly made, with a ruffled coverlet and fresh
pillows, nicely straightened. Anna opened the dresserÕs top drawer and
handed each of us a pair of warm socks to sleep in. Standing before her,
we bent and pulled on the socks. Our breasts waggled in their ripe
fullness as we worked the socks over our feet. I had a sensuous feeling.
Then she handed us each a short t-shirt, and we slipped it over our heads.
Mine came to just below my nipples, as did RachelÕs. I was hoping for
panties next, but Anna offered none.
ÒTo bed,Ó she said, Òbut stand by the side of it for a moment.Ó We
obeyed, not really thinking, not really caring, enjoying the sweet scents
from our bath. We must have looked like twin sisters as we stood
admiring the neatness of the newly-made bed, a teddy bear placed upon it,
his eyes twinkling up at us, unseeing.
ÒDonÕt you know how to stand?Ó she asked from behind. Rachel and I,
our hips bumping, stood stiff-legged, our thighs together. ÒNo, no, girls!
If master were here heÕd have your hides! Unless youÕre told otherwise,
youÕre to keep your legs well apart, especially if youÕre being admired
from behind.Ó
ÒThatÕs a new rule,Ó Rachel mused. We parted our thighs a good foot
or more, just to make her happy, as if playing hopscotch or Twister.
SWAAAACK! came suddenly, double-striking, across each of our
bottoms in rapid succession.
ÒYahoooo!Ó
ÒYehoooa!Ó twin screams of alarm rose up from our lungs as Rachel
and I got a fanny-full of masterÕs strap right on our asses. I clapped my
hands to mine even as she did to hers. My long hair swished across my
back, I rose up on tiptoe. Rachel gyrated her derriere in a most
unTeacherly fashion.
ÒTo bed, young ladies, and let that be a warning of what IÕll do if you
misbehave in the slightest after I leave!Ó Anna pronounced with all
seriousness behind us. Rachel and I scrambled into bed. We got ourselves
under the covers, panties or no panties, and closed our eyes quick as we
could for Dreamland.
ÒVery good,Ó Anna said. She turned out our light. ÒNo fighting over
the teddy bear, no sticking the pacifier in the nightstand up each otherÕs
ass, and no frigging! I expect to find two dry little girls in the morning,
fully refreshed from a long nightÕs sleep. IÕll check your pussies
thoroughly just to be sure, and there better not be any love dew on them.
In fact, girls, IÕll tickle you myself in the morning, and youÕd better
wetten up for me as quick as newly opened clams. And I swear to God, if
the two of you wet the bed to piss me off youÕll never sit again!Ó
With that exhortation, our Lady of the Night wished us goodnight and
closed our door.
ÒOooh! SheÕs the worst mistress IÕve ever had!Ó Rachel swore as
soon as Anna had left.
ÒI mean it, girls!Ó she said suddenly, opening the door again and
popping her head in just to make sure we werenÕt doing exactly what we
were. We both pretended to be asleep. She shut the door again.
ÒDonÕt get us in troubleÓ I whispered.
ÒIÕm not, snot!Ó Rachel replied. She fidgeted beside me. ÒDo you
want to?Ó she asked about a minute later.
ÒWhat?Ó I replied, actually trying to go to sleep myself, my eyes
firmly closed.
ÒYou know, do it,Ó she answered. She felt for my pussy.
ÒNo! You heard what she said!Ó I replied.
ÒWell, thatÕs just playing,Ó Rachel answered. ÒWe can do it if we
want to.Ó
ÒI seriously doubt it,Ó I replied. I felt her bosoms against mine. Her
nipples were like thorns. They touched mine and sparks seemed to flash
between our points. Laughing reached our ears, directly overhead.
ÒTheyÕre partying. Wanna go spy on them?Ó Rachel asked.
ÒNooo,Ó I answered. She rose, lifting the bedcovers with her, letting
in the cool air of the room.
ÒCÕmon, we wonÕt get caught. I know how to do it,Ó she urged.
Before I could refuse she had me by the hand and was pulling me from the
bed. We tiptoed out, mischievously, leaving our cozy bed behind. I was
most ambivalent about our venture. But the laughing and partying did
pique my interest. And not a little jealousy. What was master up to, with
me in the house? How dare he not think of me every moment!
We snuck upstairs. There was a large ballroom on the second floor,
not big by the standards of a luxury liner, perhaps, but quite huge for a
brownstone. We slipped inside. Chandeliers dazzled overhead. Quickly,
naked but for our softly padding socks and our little tees, we darted
across to a couch and knelt behind it.
About a dozen guests were present. They had danced, had drank, had
eaten a fine meal, served by waiters in white-tailed tuxedoes. A string
quartet on a stage was playing, but behind a screen. A woman had been
placed upon a white linen bed, with a lace coverlet, in the center of the
dance floor. I stared at her, amazed at her and the bed, for both seemed so
out of place in a formal dining room. Arranged around the dance floor
were small round tables where the partiers had eaten.
ÒJust in time for dessert,Ó a woman was saying to the blonde on the
bed. The woman speaking was a redhead, and sat next to the recumbent
blonde. The redhead had her dress down around her waist, so that, seated
casually beside the blonde, her breasts hung freely. The blonde, who I
suddenly recognized as Anna, lay with her hips right on the edge of the
bed, so that her legs stretched down off the bed. Her calves were draped
over a small padded hassock. She kept them straight. Her pumps were
still on, but her cocktail dress had been ripped open right down the front,
so that now it lay tucked under her hips on the bed, letting her pussy
show, and under and alongside her back, leaving her gorgeous breasts to
rise unhindered in all their ballooning glory upon her chest. They looked
like two giant marshmallows, cherry tipped by her nipples, which stood up
proud and free. With her every breath her breasts quivered expectantly.
ÒYou will make the most memorable dessert, darling,Ó the redhead told
Anna, who was smiling and giggling just a little. ÒAnd since you skipped
dinner, youÕll be able to eat more of it than the rest of us, although you
might not want to.Ó The redhead had been plucking pink rose petals from a
long-stemmed rose and sprinkling them around AnnaÕs face as a kind of
decoration. She tossed the bare stem away and picked up a can of Cool-
Whip. She shook it, while Anna lay laughingly waiting, her hair all curled
and lovely as when IÕd first seen it, prettier perhaps, as if touched up at
the last moment, before her placement upon the bed. Her lipstick was
perfect. The blush on her cheeks was just the right shade. I mourned the
loss of her pretty dress, but Anna herself seemed oblivious to it.
The redhead, her own breasts hanging nakedly, bent forward over
Anna. Gently she applied her fingertip to the Cool-WhipÕs snout. Cold
cream spurted forth. It layered itself in ringlets around AnnaÕs nipples,
guided by the redhead. Each stiff nipple was carefully avoided until the
final moment, when the redhead made a triumphant little mountain of
cream atop each one in turn. I felt like I was watching some French cake
decorating class.
ÒWait, itÕll get even better,Ó Rachel said to me, our heads peeking
out over the top of the couch. Tara rose from a nearby table and, swishing
her dress very slinkily, competing with Anna for the attention of the men,
she walked up to the woman. With firm hands she took AnnaÕs legs and
spread them. She drew out the hassock and seated herself on it. She
pulled herself up to AnnaÕs pussy, which lay bare and naked before her.
The redhead passed her the Cool-Whip.
ÒAll the right places must be decorated, especially such a pretty
pussy,Ó Tara told Anna. The blonde just giggled under TaraÕs gaze. The
men all watched with baited breath. I noticed a sweet contrast in the
whiteness of AnnaÕs skin where her pubis lay and the tanned expanse of
her tummy and thighs. I knew the men loved it more than I. How erotic it
was, to see Anna with her panties removed, her tan lines showing. I
looked on the floor for her undies and saw them lying there, they must
have been hers, close to one of her heels, forgotten now. There was a
squirting sound and Anna blushed fiercely. Cold whipped cream shot from
the cannister and decorated her most intimate place. There was a small
round of applause. Was this AnnaÕs first time? SheÕd seemed so self-
assured with us. I glanced round at the guests. I found Jasmine, the
unattractive man and his wife, a few others unknown to me. I wondered at
the unattractive couple. They were special, I supposed, friends of master
because they controlled large sums of money or had some elite status.
Most of the guests were breathtakingly beautiful, natural invites for a
party like this one, but there were always a few who managed to get in on
other grounds. Again I felt that strange, special feeling, of tasting
forbidden fruits that many never shared. Or shared only with their
unattractive brethren, like Susan Smith doing the adultery number in
somebodyÕs spa in a nowhere town with nowhere people. Here there were
beauties of distinction, myself included, and our games were better, I
hoped. I was with my kind. Models, actors, businessmen grave and
handsome.
RachelÕs hip banged mine. I glared at her. ÒSorry,Ó she whispered.
Suddenly I was acutely aware of the two of us, our condition, kneeling
behind this couch, our bottoms arching out, our young cheeks split behind,
showing our dimpled holes. Older women might kneel and be fleshy enough
to keep their bottoms closed, but girls like us didnÕt have anything in
behind to keep us modest. I blushed, felt as embarrassed as Anna, though
nobody could see me.
ÒAnd now, dear, the winning touch,Ó Tara announced. She took a
cucumber from a tray offered by a waiter who still attended on the party.
It was big and fat, and quite long. Tara held it up for everyone to admire.
Anna was red-cheeked. She waited, hands obediently by her side, letting
Tara use her. Tara took the cucumber and shoved its end into AnnaÕs cream
coated cunt. Anna gasped, knowing what must be but still quite awed at
its happening. I thought Tara would plunge the cucumber all the way up
but she didnÕt. She let more than half of it remain sticking out of AnnaÕs
cunt. Rachel breathed in absolute awe beside me as we stared at the
cucumber, sweetly curving upward just like a real cock, making Anna look
very much like a well-hung boy.
ÒOpen your mouth, dear,Ó the redhead told Anna. When she did, a
cherry was put between her flashing white teeth and she was told to hold
it there. A man stood up with a camera in his hands. He strode up to Anna
and took a flash picture of her. She was blushing fiercely all the while, a
girl on a first date with erotic desserts. Or maybe it wasnÕt her first
time, I couldnÕt know, but she blushed from her toes to her cheeks, so
sweetly, as if such an awful, silly thing could never have passed through
her beautiful head before. Idly now she ran her thumbs across her flanks
as she kept her hands immobile beside them. A second cherry was placed
in her navel and more pictures were taken. She was urged to eat the
cherry between her lips and, collecting the seed and the stem from her
mouth, the redhead offered Anna a stemless strawberry. Anna held it in
her teeth just like the cherry, letting more pictures be taken of her, by
other men, by a few of the women. Slim cords were brought and one was
looped around each of her wrists. They seemed to be making up their game
as the went along. The cords were run down the outside of her flanks all
the way to her ankles, where each wrist was tied to each ankle, the left
wrist to the left ankle, and the right to the right, loops being made round
each of her ankles just for the purpose.
Thus tied, her legs well spread, her cucumber cock sticking up lewd
as any ninth-graderÕs penis, Anna found herself fully decorated and
prepared. Jasmine approached with a small thin whip and spoke softly to
Anna.
ÒPlease not too hard,Ó I thought I heard Anna mumble...
AND IN THE END...
ÒThe quality of political discourse actually tends to decline during
election years.Ó
- The Orange County Register, September 20, 1996.
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