ÒNOOOOOOO!Ó Judy screamed through her gag. But the man only
laughed. Behind her Ellen and Sherry laughed.
ÒYes, little bitch, IÕm going to take your virgin bottom,Ó the man
with the cane gloated. He watched Judy struggle in her bonds, harder than
she had before. As she tried to break free, quite uselessly, he unzipped
himself.
P U S S Y V A L L E Y
(formerly ÔButthole HollowÕ)
Now available for downloading from FTP site: members.aol.com/nnd66
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 191
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter Three
ÒBoys, you must always wear a condom,Ó mistress announced,
apparently to virgin ears. The boys nodded solemnly. ÒEgbert, please get
out your condom for me.Ó Egbert blushed. He gulped and bowed his head.
ÒUh, I forgot,Ó he apologized.
ÒDid any of you boys bring a condom?Ó mistress asked. They glanced
nervously at each other. ÒNONE of you?Ó Mistress frowned as Barbi and I
and Sara and even Maria had to work hard to suppress laughing our heads
off. Barbi let out a little giggle, clapping her hands to her mouth. She was
finally involved in the matter before us. I let my eyes dance merrily and
kept my lips tightly pressed together, my cheeks filling with air as I just
managed to stave off bursting into giggles. Sara smiled, warm and
friendly. I thought she might reach out and take EgbertÕs hand to console
him. The boys were clearly embarrassed. ÒBoys, how could you go to a
whorehouse without taking any condoms along?Ó mistress asked.
ÒUh, is this a whorehouse?Ó a boy asked, wide-eyed.
ÒDo you normally see girls dressed like this in your school?Ó
mistress questioned.
ÒNoooo,Ó a boy replied. ÒItÕs just that you said to be polite and-Ó
ÒWell of course you must be POLITE, boys! Girls are different from
you. You know that. Tell me, boys, while I get up to find some condoms
for us, how are girls different from boys?Ó She rose, still firmly in
control of the situation, for the boys all turned their eyes to view the
offered undercurve of her bottom as she stood. Her two silken cheeks
were sheathed in fine French panties. The undies were delicately
transparent, and she stood so close, with her jacket riding high from her
sitting, that even though most of her bottom was covered by her jacket
the boys were given an enticing sight of her innermost curves, where her
anus dwelled and her pussylips began their promising pout.
Silence reigned. None of the boys were even thinking about how to
answer her, so absorbed were they by the sight of her mature, womanly
bottom, tight and firm yet full-grown, the kind of motherÕs bottom theyÕd
probably all fantasized about sticking their dicks into since they were
infants, watching mom drink coffee with the neighborhood ladies from
their crib.
ÒOh, you boys amaze me with your ignorance!Ó mistress scolded.
ÒThink of this: arenÕt my underpants different from yours?Ó She reached
up under her jacket and slowly pulled her panties down. As if to tease
them she stuck out her butt just a little, modestly, then wiggled it to get
her pantiesÕ crotch to snap free of her cunt lips. She dragged the undies
down her long legs and stepped out of them. One of the legholes caught on
her spiked pumpÕs heel. She got it free and tossed her panties right into
EgbertÕs face.
ÒGAAACK!Ó Egbert cried. We all laughed.
ÒThere! See for yourself!Ó mistress announced. ÒSmell them while
you have them on your face. Do they smell like a boyÕs underpants?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Egbert admitted, beginning to enjoy himself, with her panties
hanging off his pointed nose, his glasses steaming.
ÒAll of you boys smell my panties!Ó mistress said. ÒIÕll have no
more of this ignorance amongst boys in college! What have you boys been
doing all these years?Ó
ÒUh, well...Ó the fat boy offered.
ÒNever mind, I know what youÕve been doing!Ó mistress answered.
ÒIn your case, youÕve been eating, but the rest of you...jerking off! ThatÕs
what youÕve been doing! Why, youÕve been so busy jerking off you donÕt
even know to bring condoms to a whorehouse. Let me get some, and then
weÕre going to have a little training. You boys will leave here as men
tonight! And I expect you to go OUT this Saturday night. ThatÕs right. No
more sitting at home posting Òme tooÓ posts on alt.sex.stories. No more
spending hours in the AOL chat rooms talking to ÒgirlsÓ who are actually
50-year-old fags.Ó She walked across the room, rummaged in a drawer,
came back with a handful of shrink-wrapped Trojans. ÒThere!Ó she
proclaimed, tossing the rubbers at the boys. ÒThose are condoms! That is
what you take when you go out on Saturday night. You can buy those in the
grocery, boys. They are usually in the next aisle over from the computer
magazines, in the stores IÕve seen.Ó
Mistress sat back down. She tugged on her jacket to make it cover
her pussy as well as it could. She picked up a condom package and tugged
at it, hoping to rip it open. But her mind was elsewhere, still on her
lecture, and the differences between girls and boys.
ÒDid you know girls have periods?Ó mistress asked. ÒDid you know
that they get PMS once a month?Ó She gazed for a moment at their blank
faces. ÒNever mind,Ó she continued. ÒWeÕll stick to the basics tonight, as
in, ÔWhat goes where.Õ ThatÕs all youÕre interested in anyway, isnÕt it?Ó
The boys, foolishly absorbed in her words, nodded. ÒI thought so,Ó
mistress said. Then she smiled, as if to reassure them that they were, in
fact, doing just fine. At least for 20-year-old virgins. ÒTell me, sticking
to the matter at hand, how else are girls different from boys?Ó
ÒUh, they have nice asses, without any hair in them,Ó a boy with
crooked glasses volunteered, shooting up his hand to answer as if Ms.
Highbourne was his first grade teacher.
ÒVery good. What is your name?Ó
ÒBillie!Ó the boy announced, pleased that heÕd been called on,
acknowledged.
ÒBillie, how are girlÕs bottoms different, besides just looking nice?Ó
mistress asked. Billie, for all his eagerness, seemed stumped.
ÒTheir buttholes are smaller,Ó mistress replied. ÒDoes that seem
fair to you? Think of it, a penis must inevitably go up a girlÕs butthole at
some time if her life, if she is truly to acknowledge her husband as her
master and surrender herself to him completely. Yet, instead of having a
nice big butthole, which would be practical, considering how big your cock
is, Egbert, we girls are born with wee little assholes, which must be
forced if they are to ever receive completely. IsnÕt that right, girls?Ó
mistress turned to me. I gasped. ÒDoes it hurt to have a penis go up your
butt, Fury?Ó mistress asked me.
ÒI-I donÕt know,Ó I replied bashfully. ÒIÕve-Ó
ÒWhat? YouÕve never done it? Is that what youÕre saying?Ó she
asked. I let my eyes sink to the floor and instinctively passed my hands
back round my bottom and took hold of my bottomcheeks. Naughtily I
pulled them apart a little, feeling the firmness, the stretchiness, in my
hands. There was no way any cock could go up my little hole! ÒIÕm only
13,Ó I replied.
ÒOnly 13?Ó mistress asked. ÒDo you hear that, boys? Only 13, yet
she has such nice, big breasts for a 13-year-old, donÕt you think?Ó
ÒThey just grew,Ó I replied.
ÒOf course they did, dear,Ó she said. ÒAnd your bottom just fattened
up too, didnÕt it? Nice and plump, so that you canÕt walk down the beach
anymore without grown men noticing you go by. And when you bend over to
pick up a seashell, well, what do you think they think about?Ó
ÒPorking her up the butt!Ó the fat boy announced.
ÒVery good, tubby,Ó mistress said. ÒBut yours is probably so wide
youÕd split her right apart if you did it to her. YouÕll have to let somebody
else go first. Egbert, perhaps, heÕs nice and skinny, arenÕt you? A bit long,
though. Where is your bulge, Billy? Did you squirt in your pants already?
ItÕs not nice to cum in your pants.Ó
ÒIÕm sorry. I couldnÕt help it, when you said about her bending over I
just...Ó
ÒTch! Tch!Ó mistress said. She reached behind herself, plucked a box
of kleenex off a low coffee table. ÒOpen up yourself and let me clean up
your mess. I canÕt send you home to your mommie with spermy
underpants.Ó
We watched, all of us mildly intrigued (and the boys ecstatic) as
mistress played wet nurse to Billie. With her help he was unzipped, his
underpants opened, and his sperm scooped out into handkerchiefs. ÒHas
nobody ever helped you with this sort of problem before, Billie?Ó mistress
asked. Her voice was consoling. ÒItÕs okay. You just need to be around
girls more, thatÕs all, Billie. 13-year-old girls included. DonÕt ignore
them, if they excite you. Otherwise youÕll be president someday and youÕll
be making a speech when, suddenly, a 13-year-old girl in the audience
bends over to pick something up and you shoot off right there, on CNN.
Now that would be silly, wouldnÕt it, having a wet spot on CNN?
ÔGreetings, Mr. Yeltsin,Õ you might say. ÔDonÕt mind my wet spot. Your
daughter bent over to pick up her hankie as I was coming into the
building.ÕÓ
Mistress finished scooping out BillieÕs sperm. She crumpled the
handkerchiefs in her hands. ÒMaria, please open your mouth,Ó she said.
Maria looked shocked. ÒYou heard me,Ó mistress said. ÒShow these boys
what happens when you donÕt obey.Ó MariaÕs face became stricken. Her
fortunes were worsening by the second. ÒGet up, Maria,Ó mistress said.
ÒGet off that lazy ass of yours, turn around, and walk up to each boy and
let him inspect you in behind.Ó Maria swallowed, rose silently to her feet,
still pulling on her hem as she stood, as if hiding herself still mattered,
at least as a point of pride, and turned around. ÒLift up your dress,Ó
mistress said. Maria put her hands behind herself, the boys already
straining forward, their eyes wide, for they thought theyÕd seen something
upon her heinie, something theyÕd not even dreamed could be done to a girl,
at least in real life. ÒGet it right up, Maria, donÕt dally!Ó mistress,
impatient, ordered her.
Maria lifted up the back of her dress. There was nothing to it,
really, the dress ended right where her heinie did, and the slightest lifting
of it immediately bared her nether cheeks.
The boysÕ breath caught in their throats. They coughed, the fat boy
began having hiccups. Across MariaÕs once-lovely bottom lay an
entrancing series of brutal marks, deep bruises that threatened to last for
weeks. ÒYes, thatÕs what you must be prepared to do if your wives
misbehave,Ó mistress intoned. ÒWomenÕs lib must stop where the bedroom
begins, donÕt you think, boys? These men who are brought to trial for
raping their wives! Such silliness! It is the wifeÕs duty to open herself to
her man. Why else was she born with a hole, and he with a penis? When he
is erect, she must open. Is he to go down the street to the neighbor lady?
Of course not! Marriages must be preserved. They are the bedrock of our
society, as Bill Clinton himself will tell you. Sit down, Maria, and let me
put these spermy kleenex into your mouth. It is a trash can, as far as IÕm
concerned, if you were using it to tell your dear husband that you wish to
see other men besides him. Sit right down and open your mouth for me!Ó
Maria sat, giving a little moan as her bottom once again made
contact with the floor. Silently, fearing greatly that mistress, especially
with her own husband secretly watching, might beat her again, Maria
parted her lips.
ATTENTION HOLLYWOOD
I finished my first screenplay last night. ItÕs called ÒBathroom
Man.Ó ItÕs about a guy who gets tired of visiting the bathroom every hour
or two and decides to stay there. He has his mail delivered to the
bathroom and, thanks to a modem, he does his work sitting in the bathroom
too. His wife brings his meals to him when itÕs dinner time.
At first his wife was opposed to this arrangement. But then she
realized thereÕd be a lot less laundry to wash, since heÕd only be wearing a
shirt from now on (plus a tie when heÕs working). So since their sex life
had pretty much dwindled to a once a week thing, she decided to agree to
it. At least, with him stuck on the toilet (voluntarily) she wouldnÕt have
to worry about him cheating on her. (But she could cheat to her heartÕs
content.)
For awhile, however, our heroÕs new habit created some logistical
problems. The house only had one toilet. The son didnÕt much like having
to aim between his fatherÕs legs and the daughter was sure her teacher at
school wouldnÕt like hearing that she was having to sit on her dadÕs lap to
pee. But she was still fairly small so when the dad told her heÕd take care
of wiping her she agreed to it. (The son decided to whiz in the neighborÕs
yard, since he didnÕt like the girl who lived next door).
Another advantage that Bathroom Man found was in reading Playboy.
Formerly heÕd have to make up an excuse, at work or at home, for reading
the magazine. HeÕd claim he Ôhad to goÕ and everyone would see him take a
Playboy with him and theyÕd know he wasnÕt really going the normal way,
but in the way that requires the use of a hand. But now, sitting
permanently in the bathroom, with his Playboy collection as well as all
his other possessions conveniently within reach, he could read Playboy all
he wanted without feeling guilty. Everyone knocked when they needed to
use the bathroom, and he would put his Playboy away before they came in.
Except for the wife. He figured it was her fault he read Playboy. If she
still looked like she did at 18, he would tell her, what would he need to be
looking at Playboy for? But she didnÕt. So to get revenge on her for losing
her looks heÕd just keep reading away when she came in. And, another
benefit, when she wanted to sit on his prong he was usually already stiff
and so she could just sit right down on him and take care of her needs
without interrupting his reading.
The family had more money with dad always in the toilet. When a
bill collector would come to the door, the wife would be able to say, quite
truthfully, ÒIÕm sorry, my husbandÕs on the toilet.Ó Once a bill collector
got really pissed, after several visits, so the wife escorted him right into
the bathroom and, sure enough, there was our hero. He heard the bill
collector coming and he made sure to let a big gassy fart just as the man
walked in. (There were no more collection attempts after that.)
Since he was no longer commuting, no longer having to talk to his
kids (unless they wanted to talk to him while he sat on the can, which was
very embarrassing), and no longer being bothered by the wife, Bathroom
Man found he had lots of extra time on his hands. After a while, when heÕd
seen just about everything the Playboy channel had to offer, he switched
to C-SPAN. Soon he was engrossed in the matters of our nationÕs capital.
He would try to call Brian LambÕs morning talk show on C-SPAN but he
could never get through, so finally he decided to take his case directly to
the people. He decided to run for elective office. At first he was worried
about name recognition but then he realized that, true to his principles,
heÕd be doing all his radio and T.V. from his toilet. Sure enough, the first
commercial brought him nationwide attention. Not only was he sitting on
the can taking a crap while he talked to the public but his daughter walked
in and had to go too, and so, since he always put his children first, he let
her pee and then he wiped her while he was doing the commercial.
Now during this time people were fed up with Whitewatergate and
all the other scandals, and so it came to pass that they decided that,
despite his other drawbacks, Bathroom Man was a good candidate, because,
sitting all his life on the toilet, there was very little chance heÕd been
taking kickbacks from the special interests (except perhaps from the
company that manufactured the flusher). So they elected him. Bathroom
Man found himself being sworn in as president while he took a crap and
pretty soon he was flying around on ÒBathroom One.Ó All of the
negotiations with foreign countries were conducted on the toilet, and
when it came to the matter of foreign aid heÕd let a big poop. Soon
AmericaÕs National Debt was much lower because all the foreign countries
were willing to accept much less money than they had before.
War did come, however, because some insane man in the Gulf of
Arabia wasnÕt willing to accept the price for oil that Bathroom Man
offered. So Bathroom Man fought a great war. Naturally, still true to his
principles, he remained on the toilet during the battle, crisscrossing the
battlefield in an armored outhouse (with a window). Bathroom Man won a
great victory but a year later he lost the election because people had
gotten over the novelty of a guy taking a crap the whole time he was
president and the economy, meanwhile, had gone into the toilet. (This was
from too many people copying Bathroom Man and never leaving their
bathrooms, just like he did.)
Soon Bathroom Man was back at home, writing his memoirs. He was
still on the same toilet and now he didnÕt have to worry any more about
people sticking him on Bathroom One or into an armored outhouse. He
could sit all day and read his Playboys and his wife had been replaced with
a newer version who couldnÕt cook too good but was much more fun to have
sitting on his lap. (Especially since his daughter refused to, claiming she
was too big to sit on her daddyÕs lap anymore).
Now in the final shot, we see bathroom man, with his new wife
sitting on his lap, and behind them, through a window, the sun is setting. I
was going to have him say ÒRosebudÓ in the final scene but then I decided
to have him say ÒCharminÓ instead, since we could probably get that
company to help fund the film if we gave them some loving shots of their
product during the movie.
E-mail me if you want to buy this script. IÕd tell you to call me but,
who knows, when you call I might be sitting in the bathroom and miss the
call. Thanks.
AND IN THE END...
ATTENTION GIRLS!
ÒSexual fulfillment is essential to romance.Ó
- Dr. John Gray, The Secrets of Successful Relationships.
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-END OF 191 EMISSION
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