Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 2
alt.sex.stories
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Three
Our only purpose in being here was to stimulate each other, again
and again. Nothing interrupted, nothing intruded. We could keep at it
for as long as we liked. Perhaps eventually we would grow tired, want
the comforts of a real bed. Perhaps someday our food would run out, or
we'd become bored. But not yet. I strapped on a dildo, admired its
length, its girth. I'd never worn such before. There was a little pouch
and I filled it with cream and slung it beneath my fake cock. A tube
sticking up from the pouch fitted within a hollow passage inside the
dildo I wore. I squeezed the pouch. A shot of hot cum leapt forth,
spattered mistress' thigh.
"No, let Arthur do me," she said, arms, legs pinioned.
"I will fuck you, I am the man now," I said. My loins girded, I
strode menacingly before her, considering. Then I took my riding crop
and lashed her twice across the breasts. Her big bosoms shuddered.
"No! Not there!" mistress begged.
"Your tits will be sore tomorrow," I replied. "Be glad you don't
have to sit on them." Again I struck her, watching wild eyed as her
twin mounds bounced under the blow. They were just like the bottom,
fatty tissue, and just as lovely to see tortured. I knew I must not
strike them too hard, and played them with a certain gentleness, loving
their jiggly response to my crop. Mistress moaned and begged, looking
down occasionally, mesmerized, at her hurting titties. I plied them
with the crop for half an hour, unclamping her nipples for awhile so I
could watch them quiver. Finally, sensing she'd had enough, I pinned the
clamps back on and set about greasing myself for my entry.
Mandy, meantime, knelt on the rug with Arthur positioned behind
her. They'd agreed to fuck while I pillaged mistress with my new cock.
They waited, temptingly arranged, watching me oil my member. At last
I unclamped mistress, for my breasts would soon be against hers. She
gasped gratefully as the blood returned to her teats. I leaned forward
and kissed one, then the other. She cried out joyfully, so sensitive had
her nipples become from being imprisoned. It was amazing to me how
pain produced pleasure.
Lustily I eased myself forward. I was a toddler, unsure,
embarking on a new adventure in the world. I fitted myself within her
snatch. It resisted me at first. Behind me Mandy resisted the first
thrust of Arthur. We were all so young and tight, even mistress, she
being no more than twenty, perhaps nineteen. Only Arthur could claim
to be fully legal, a manly twenty-two, still at his sexual peak while we
toiled somewhere short of ours, though we knew it not, orgasming as
often and intensely as he.
We indulged ourselves then, in the quiet of our soundproofed
dungeon, mating obscenely, I upon mistress, Arthur sodomizing Mandy. I
worked as diligently as any male, my clitty rubbing against the strap
that came up through my legs and split my backside like a thong. Our
love seemed to last for hours. We were relaxed, unhurried. At last
Arthur shouted that he was coming and I gave mistress my own load,
artificially, squeezing my fake balls twixt my compressed thighs,
bringing my legs together to give her my all.
Casually I unbound mistress afterward, and helped her up.
"You are as good as any man," she complimented.
"Thank you," I replied. She walked stiff legged over to where
Mandy was recovering from Arthur's assault. Crumpling down, she was
welcomed by the girl, who kissed her lovingly upon the mouth. I
dropped to the floor and settled into Arthur's arms. It was a long time
before we bothered to get up again.
Chapter Fur
Tying on our bikinis at last, we decided to make our appearance
upstairs. Mistress had us put our boots back on, for they elevated our
bottoms nicely, she said. Then we tripped up the steps all booted and
shivering, giddily exhausted from our labors.
Our host and hostess spied us first as we were crossing the living
room. They laughed out loud at us. We girls were practically waddling
like ducks, so thoroughly had we been fucked. Even Arthur walked
stiffly, uncertainly, his loins tucked in a little Speedo swimsuit for
modesty. We had not known what we might come upon upstairs, perhaps
a party in full swing, or some formal ball. Instead it was just our
hosts, Richard and Rebecca, casually outfitted in jeans and t-shirts.
Indeed Rebecca herself wore no bra, her nipples looming nicely within
the snug confines of her shirt. She was about mistress' age, Richard
ten years older. By now I had learnt mistress' name. It was Sherry.
"Having trouble walking?" Rebecca asked Sherry gaily. Richard
reached round his wife's waist from behind and unbuttoned her jeans.
"You should undress some, so they feel more comfortable," he
said. He tugged down her pants and left her wearing only her undies and
t-shirt. "Fix them something to eat," he ordered.
Rebecca led us tottering into the kitchen. Richard stayed behind
and intercepted Arthur. "Let me see what these girls have done to your
cock," he said, and lowered the young man's briefs. He cupped him and
massaged him gently. I gazed back over my shoulder at this,
astonished.
"Don't worry, darling, you won't be deprived of your playmate for
long," Rebecca said, returning to fetch me, drawing me into the kitchen.
"When a man has had lots of pussy it takes something new to revive
him. Arthur will stiffen up nicely playing with my husband, and he
knows it. Look how he is already coming around." Indeed, Arthur was
growing hard again. Richard dropped his own pants and suggested they
fight a few rounds with the "swords" of their penises. I longed to stay
but Rebecca promised they would join us shortly.
In the kitchen Rebecca insisted that we take off our bras, and I
could see that we were far from finished with indulging ourselves
sexually. She stripped off her own t-shirt and examined with care the
marks I'd made on Sherry's tits. She scolded me for marking up such a
beautiful pair of bosoms. Then she had us lower our panties and she
examined the state of our bottoms. They were whitening, slowly, and
she gave us each a friendly slap to invigorate us.
Fannys smarting anew, we stepped out of our panties and flung
them into the kitchen fireplace. I watched as mine burned up quickly.
Soft gossamer, no more, ash now. Rebecca hung a pot of soup broth over
the fire and we set about slicing up vegetables for it. We dumped
onions and potatoes and ground beef into the heated water, stirring it
merrily, and finally called the men in to eat. They arrived with stiff
cocks, as naked as we were.
"My, this should be a most invigorating meal," Rebecca said, coyly
admiring the men.
"For us as well as you," Richard replied. "Come, Arthur, put
yourself between Sherry and my wife and I shall entertain these two
newbies here."
We sat eating then, quietly spooning up our soup. We'd gotten no
further than a few mouthfuls before our hands began stealing between
each other's legs. We liked what we found there. But the four of us
from the dungeon, at least, were hungry, so we kept eating while our
free hands played. We conversed a bit, about the snow, the blizzard of
the day before, the warmth of the kitchen enveloping us nicely. Finally,
refreshed, we rose. There were new cunts to be explored, a new cock.
Mandy and I took hold of Richard's organ with glistening eyes. Stroking
him, we asked how he liked to fuck his wife.
"Early in the morning and often throughout the day," Roger said.
"My, you must be quite the athlete then," I said.
"Did you ever enter the penis olympics?" Mandy asked with a
childish giggle.
"Why, no," Richard replied, bemused.
"Well I think you might be tonight," Mandy said. It was only early
afternoon but already outside the daylight was failing. "Come, let's
find a bed where we can try out your organ properly." She drew on his
cock and he followed.
Rebecca, overhearing, spoke to Arthur in a similar way. "There
must be trials first, preliminaries, then the main event. Do you think
you're up to it, young man?"
"I can give as good as Richard," he said. "What's he down to now,
at age 32, one erection a month?"
"Oh, he's not that far over the hill," Rebecca said. "You'll have
your work cut out for you beating him. But I'm sure you can do it, aren't
you?" She caressed his manhood lovingly, sharing him with Sherry.
"Of course I can do it," Arthur replied. He lifted his hands, cupped
their breasts admiringly. "With the two of you urging me on I imagine I
could do most anything."
We soon found ourselves in the master bedroom, the men with
swelling balls that promised well for the evening's festivities.
Rebecca donned a visor and whistle. I, still in my boots, was given
pom-poms and told to play cheerleader. Mandy and Sherry knelt before
the men and licked them until they were very hard. Then Rebecca gave
them little leather cock halters. Each was looped about the men's
scrotums and cinched tight. The effect was to cause their already
swollen balls to bulge out even more shamelessly. A short tube of
leather was fitted over each man's straining organ and tied tightly.
Their flanged dick heads remained bare, popping forth from the soft
leather like babies bursting from the womb.
The harnesses lacked reins, so each girl took her steed by the
knob of his organ, squeezing him twixt her fingers. Pre-cum oozed
from each slitted tip. The men squirmed uncomfortably.
"You need only cum to ease the pressure on your loins," Rebecca
teased, touching each man carefully to see that the girls had done the
job right. She held a riding crop now, and when she'd finished with
them in front she touched up the posteriors of each, giving them little
loving flicks while their jockeys held them.
"Ouch! Not so hard!" Arthur winced, as Rebecca gave him an
adoring smack.
"You will cum profusely when you are told, but not before, lest
you wish to truly suffer. Do you understand?" Rebecca asked. The men
nodded, fidgeting, buck naked save for their little harnesses. "You will
enjoy several emissions this evening, during which there will be
intermissions," Rebecca said gaily. "Now let us see you trot and canter,
like proper horsies! Giddap!" With a sizzling crack of the crop in rapid
succession on each, the men were launched about the room, led by their
female jockeys.
I watched, fascinated, as the men let themselves be turned into
prancing gonads. Proudly they strutted, testicles bouncing, penises
waggling, all the while being urged forth by a helpfully applied crop to
their arses. Laughingly the girls led them, sometimes losing hold of
their wiggly pricks, reclaiming them, warning the men not to spurt on
them.
A table held various bottles. The men were brought to it and
frequently watered, urged to drink as much as they could. Then they
were launched about the room again, Rebecca friskily keeping up a
drumbeat on their bare hineys. I cheered them on, dancing about and
waving my pom-poms.
It didn't take long before the men's repeated imbibing caught up
with them. Soon they were groaning not only with the need to cum, but
to pee as well. After enjoying their misfortune for awhile, Rebecca led
them to a window. She thrust it open. Shivering, the men stuck their
cocks out into the icy air. We watched, enthralled, the spectacle of
them peeing on command, their golden urine slicing the air in fine arcs
to spatter the snow two stories below.
"Let us cum, too," Arthur begged.
"I wouldn't think of it," Rebecca replied. She gave him an extra
severe cut just for asking. He howled like a wolf through the open
window.
We closed off the outdoors and put the men through more trials.
They were made to kneel, and over their protests Rebecca stuck a nice
long dildo up each of their asses. "You see, all of us are here to be
penetrated this evening," Rebecca said. "Boys as well as girls." Sherry
and Mandy were told to mount their cocky stallions, which they did
with much merriment, still wearing the riding boots we'd first arrived
in. (Rebecca was in high heels.) The girls were given pony lashes and
told to race their steeds. Back and forth the men crawled across the
room, rapidly, for the loser always suffered extra cuts on his bottom.
But the girls were not spared either. When her horse lost the girl was
required to lean forward on him, displaying her bottom just above his,
and receive an equal number of cuts. The girls grunted as they received
their dues. Each took to clutching her steed by his cock as she was
spanked. This to keep from falling off him. The men found themselves
being punished twice in this manner. They longed to cum and could
barely hold themselves in.
At last Rebecca declared an intermission. We stepped out of our
roles briefly, though the men were required to keep on their
cockholders.
"God, what a slavedriver your wife is!" Arthur moaned, slugging
back a fifth of brandy to ease the pain in his buttocks. He shifted
uncomfortably from foot to foot, trying to work out the cock embedded
in his backside.
"I'm afraid I trained her," Richard replied. "I used to have men
friends over, the 'gay games,' we called it. I'd let Rebecca preside. We
would cum like lions when she finally let us."
"I don't doubt it. I've barely got control of myself now. I don't
know--" he shuddered. "Don't know how much longer I can hold out."
Gimlet-eyed we watched him. We were greedy. I stepped up to
Arthur and gently clasped his trembling cockhead in my little fingers.
"Why don't you cum then, Arthur, without permission? Just for me?
Spurt your cum all over my belly." Arthur threw back his head,
shuddered, restrained himself with a mighty effort. Rebecca gave me a
well-merited slice and sent me leaping, my hands still clasping his
tool. This nearly put Arthur over the edge. He watched, spellbound, as I
jerked about, my titties bobbling freely, till at last I settled down once
more.
"He will cum when I say so, and no sooner. Do you understand,
young lady?" Rebecca asked me.
"Yes, mistress," I replied meekly. "Yahoooo!" I cried out as she
laid a second one into me.
"I did not tell you to call me 'mistress,' did I?" she barked.
"No ma'am," I replied. My hands flew to my injured bottom and I
rubbed it briskly.
WHACK! The crop came down again, bruising my fingers, which
released my hiney just as quickly. She laid in a fourth cut, upon my
bottom again, and I went howling across the room. She followed me,
delighted, switching me wickedly all the way.
"Rebecca is my name! You hear? R-E-B-E-C-C-A!" By now I was
racing back across the room, and she accompanied each letter with its
own admonitory stroke.
Huddling, trapped finally in a corner, she made me say her name
properly. I spelt it out too, and at last she let me be. Holding my newly
injured cheeks I followed her back to the others. Amongst the five of
us, only Rebecca's behind remained unscathed now. I watched its silky
whiteness rolling before me, lustrous and compact, with a nicely
jutting seat. Who would administer her discipline, I wondered?
Perhaps it would be me. I'd show her how to use a riding crop, I told
myself.
Alas, I soon lived to regret such thoughts. Hungry for pleasure, I
grabbed the first penis I could lay hands on. The crop had heated more
than just my bottom. We had been teasing each other for what seemed
like hours and I could control myself no longer. Richard sensed this. He
sensed I needed training. It was his organ I clutched in my hot little
hands, and I unceremoniously made to impale my wet cunny upon it. He
held me back, his hands impressing themselves into the front of my
thighs. He was a true god when it came to sexual discipline. Not a
muscle of his twitched. His need was as great as mine but he seemed
utterly calm.
"If I fuck you will you let me give you to the mistress of my
choice?" His words made little impression on my confused mind. But
from somewhere within me a voice squeaked that I must say 'no,' that
to say 'yes' would prove to be my undoing. I disobeyed my conscience.
"Yes!" I gasped, and urged myself forward against his restraining
hands. He let me put myself to him then, though I heard a champagne
bottle pop open just as I was getting him into me.
"Congratulations!" Rebecca cried, laughing, and shot spurting
champagne all over my hot bottom.
"Yeeeoch!" I breathed. The new marks from the crop on my bottom
stung when the liquor hit them. I lurched forward onto Richard's cock,
driven forward by the spray, and almost passed out as his big cock
drove up me.
Chapter Five
Waiflike, with eyes big as saucers, I was ready to begin my first
day of school. Rebecca herself had dressed me in the school's
regulation uniform. I wore a broad-brimmed yellow bonnet with a black
bow. Beneath it my hair was loose, but with some of it gathered into a
casual ponytail which was tied up with a blue ribbon. I wore a black
frock coat. It was very short, just barely covering my fanny. I did not
have any skirt on beneath, only white schoolgirl undies which were so
small that my ass cheeks hung out of them almost completely. In
effect, the underpants were thong panties, though on an 8-year-old they
would not have been. My hips were still fairly slender, but there was
no way I could fit properly into panties made for a pre-teen!
Long white schoolgirl stockings, garterless, stretched up over my
knees and hugged my thighs. About halfway up they stopped, leaving my
upper thighs bare, my skin glowing softly, alluringly, in the morning
sunlight. Fretfully I tugged at my frock. I'd been fruitlessly trying to
cover my bare thighs all morning. Yet they remained as shamelessly
exposed as ever, smooth and neatly tanned, with the white undercurves
of my bottom showing every time a breeze caught my dress. Well not
my dress but my frock, as I should call it, though the coat was made of
such soft, snug material that it could as easily have been a dress as a
coat.
Beside me, fingering the abbreviated hem of her own uniform,
stood my schoolmate. Her name was Kyla. I had the feeling I'd get to
know her much better. So far I'd caught unwilling glimpses of her ass,
and she of mine, to our mutual embarrassment. Not that she didn't have
a beautiful bottom. She was a bit taller than me, 17, and very nicely
filled out. She had a big bosom and a big bottom. She was newly
engaged to an older man, who'd decided to enroll her in the school as a
pre-honeymoon treat. The gift was mainly to himself, I suspected. He
said she needed to be made more mature before she could become his
wife. But she seemed perfectly well-mannered to me, even docile.
A car slowed behind us. Its passengers gawked, whistled. Our
guardian, spotlessly attired in military dress, waved his automatic
rifle at the car. Reluctantly it took off.
"Knock again!" I whispered to Kyle. She picked up the door knocker
and rapped three more times. We were, for the moment at least, stuck
outside a modest looking home on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. Our
chaperone, a large silent soldier in the Argentine army, was our only
companion. He had met me at Richard and Rebecca's and escorted me to
the airport, where I'd met Kyle. The three of us had flown back to the
city together, in a private jet. The pilot had not let us sit in the
cockpit. "Too tempting," he'd replied when Kyle and I asked him. So
we'd sat with the soldier in the passenger compartment, who was as
silent a Sam as I'd ever met. Which, incidentally, was the name I'd
given him, being unable to get him to tell us what his real one was.
"Doesn't matter," had been his only answer.
Underneath my frustratingly short frock I wore only my
underpants and a bustiette. It had a lace-up front. I guess our mistress
had miscalculated the size of my boobies... [More tomorrow! Ed.]
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