Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 247
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Cunt Castle
Chapter Two
Our maid from the night before, the woman with too many clothes,
her dress and her girdle and her stockings all rustling and rubbing
together, brought me tea on a tray. There was a selection of croissants as
well, some with jelly inside.
The man who was so free with my breasts undid my hands. I drew
them gratefully from behind my neck and stretched out my arms. I turned
them, looked at them, all the while the Mexican woman with the tray
waiting for me to select my choice of pastry.
My other male lover, or perhaps I should call him simply my newest
male acquaintance, removed my pacifier from my mouth. My tongue slid
out between my lips with my pacifier. A string of saliva ran from my
tongue to the pacifierÕs nipple, breaking finally as he drew the baby toy
away.
ÒHave something to eat,Ó the man said to me. The maid urged her
tray closer.
ÒI really couldnÕt,Ó I protested. I put a hand to my tummy. ÒI really
do have to go,Ó I said, looking past the maid at Rose.
ÒTake a pastry, dear, and then weÕll talk about your more pressing
needs,Ó Rose told me. Reluctantly I obeyed. I reached out a faltering hand,
picked up a teacup, wavered with my other hand over the icing-laced
crescents.
ÒPick one of the jelly ones! TheyÕre gooood!Ó Polly exclaimed. I
looked up. One of her male lovers was holding her pacifier for her. As
soon as sheÕd spoken she lustily bit into her croissant. Some of the jelly
inside it squirted out onto her cheek. Quickly her lover took out his
handkerchief from his tux and wiped the jelly away. It was a crisp, new
handkerchief, carefully folded, which he now opened to wipe her mouth.
Polly seemed not to notice. She bit into her croissant again, clearly
enjoying it. Then she lifted her teacup daintily to her chin, holding it just
so, with her little finger extended, and sipped in some tea to help her
swallow the pastry.
I picked a cinnamon croissant. I knew IÕd like the spiciness of it,
mixed with, of course, plenty of sugar. I bit into it. Yes, very delicious.
It tasted as if it had been baked right here, at the castle, perhaps by this
very maid herself, slaving over the hot stove out back where weÕd found
clothes for our little trip into town. My two male lovers watched me eat
my croissant. The maid offered them seconds. They declined.
ÒNow girls, we have four men here whose wives are home pregnant,Ó
Rose said. Her voice was direct and simple in its tone. ÒAs you might
imagine, men know nothing about babies. And they, babies I mean, are such
delicate creatures. Yet in the 90Õs men are expected to feed babies, and
wash them, and of course to diaper them. ThatÕs why I decided to dress
you up this way this morning. These men need practise. YouÕre young
enough to still look babyish,Ó (at this Polly frowned, her cheeks bulging
with pastry) Òyet not quite so delicate as a real baby. I want you both to
enjoy conversing with these friends of your lovers. Enjoy them. They
certainly enjoy you. And please, when you have to go, just pee right in
your diapers. Then the men can change them for you, and learn how to do it
properly.Ó
I just about spluttered out my tea at hearing that! I was supposed to
piss right into my diapers, here on this nice couch, and then be changed? I
guess IÕd somehow expected something else, though it was hard to say
what, now that I thought about it. A square of plastic under me, two men
leaning in toward me, and me in diapers. Yep. I guess that meant I had to
pee in public. God, I detested the thought of it. Last night had been one
thing, with my own boyfriend, on a childrenÕs potty. But to actually pee on
myself? That was too much.
ÒRose,Ó I said, speaking over my tea and my pastry. ÒIt really is too
much. I donÕt want to have to pee in these diapers! I mean, okay, I look
cute and all, but to actually wet them?Ó
ÒI have to go REALLY bad now,Ó Polly declared, feeling the effects of
all the tea she was drinking.
ÒWet your diapers, dears,Ó Rose told us. ÒItÕs the only way these
men will learn. You can hardly blame them. What boy would ever be
allowed to babysit like we girls do, and learn how to change diapers when
heÕs a teen? No, boys grow to manhood without ever learning the skills we
women do. Now itÕs time, their wives are pregnant, and they can hardly
learn properly on a woman whoÕs big with child. It just wouldnÕt be the
same. And, you know, we wouldnÕt want them fumbling their own child, in
the middle of Sears or Pennies or something. Babies donÕt look too good
when dropped off the diapering table. They need to start out with a larger
babykins, one thatÕs a size they can handle. So, I figured, a woman would
be too big, a baby too small, but a 13-year-old girl, that would be about
just right.Ó She laughed at her soliloquy. ÒPiss, darlings. IÕll sound like
Lady Macbeth in a minute!Ó
ÒOoooh! I canÕt hold it!Ó Polly announced. One of the men beside her
had begun to lightly tickle her belly. ItÕs smooth flesh shivered, sending
her breasts jiggling, and I saw a wet spot begin to appear in her crotch. I
think the sight of it inspired me.
ÒOh!Ó I cried. I looked down, holding my tea aloft, trying so hard to
look proper despite my nudity. In my other hand my croissant wavered,
half-eaten, my mouth watering for more. Too late! I felt a quick
outrunning between my thighs and knew my battle with my bladder had
been lost. I watched as the wet spot within the vee of my thighs grew
larger and more vivid. Yes, IÕd wet myself, just like a baby.
I looked up at the men beside me as I felt my bladder continue to
piss out my pee. It was so silly, sitting here, looking at these two
strangers as I wet the diapers that served as my panties.
ÒOh, I canÕt stop it!Ó Polly lamented.
ÒDonÕt, dear,Ó Rose told her. ÒLet it all squirt out. YouÕll feel much
better, and the men will get their training.Ó
We were each permitted to finish our croissant. I felt so awkward,
sitting there, munching on a pastry and sipping tea wearing wet diapers.
Yet I was hungry. Too hungry to pass up the change to eat. When weÕd each
finished the croissant we held, the maid fetched our teacups from our
hands. We were offered nothing more. Rose stood and said we must have
our diapers changed.
The men each took one of my arms. I was forcibly squired, with
Polly drawn ahead of me, into an adjoining room. There I saw a babyÕs
plaything hanging from the ceiling, one each over two closely matched
tables. There were little clowns and birds on the plaything, as if Polly
and I might compete with each other, batting at our playthings while the
men changed us.
A soft towel covered each table, much as one finds in a massage
studio. The tables themselves were made with cushioned tops.
ÒUp, girls!Ó Rose told us. With help from the men, feeling ridiculous
in our wet diapers, we each got up on a table. ÒLie down, girls, on your
bellies.Ó Rose instructed. I lay on my tummy and felt the eyes of the two
men whoÕd accompanied me fix on my pretty tushy. As soon as I was flat
they undid the pins to my diapers. With Rose advising them, they carefully
drew my diapers out from under me.
The maid came in with a trayful of steaming towels. The men each
took one. ÒThatÕs right. Wipe her bottom,Ó Rose told each of the men
regarding Polly and me. I mewled at the heat of the towel as it was
applied to my bare fanny. Slowly and carefully they wiped me clean, using
a dry cloth on my bottom after theyÕd finished with the moist one. Then I
was rolled over.
ÒGoo,Ó I said playfully to my two paramours as they gazed with
delighted eyes down at me. My titties jiggled on my chest. I felt happy,
aroused. They fingered my pussy, found it wet with more than my pee.
ÒDonÕt be naughty, gentlemen. SheÕs just a little baby,Ó Rose warned
them. They took hot towels and wiped up my pee from my pussy. Then
they dried me (as best they could)! I felt deliciously happy.
ÒYou can pee in your pants if you want. I wonÕt mind,Ó I said to the
men. My eyes were seductive. IÕd be the first infant to rape her daddies.
Twin daddies, I had, and I longed now to see the tools theyÕd used to father
me. I drew up my knees and let my legs fall apart, showing my sex with
its newly grown fur.
ÒWith pregnant wives, itÕs sometimes hard...Ó (Rose paused,
suppressed a giggle) Ò...sometimes hard for a man to find relief,Ó she told
me. ÒWould you mind, Fleury, if these nice men used your mouth a little?Ó
ÒI thought perhaps--Ó I began, hopefully, letting my hand pass
between my legs and tickle me where I suddenly needed it.
ÒShhhh,Ó Rose said. She put a finger to my lips. ÒLetÕs not make
Louis jealous, shall we?Ó There was a bruise on her cheek, I noticed.
ÒSuck, darling. Let them sperm your mouth. ItÕs the most I can offer you
right now. And please do take your hand away from your pussy. ItÕs not
nice to masturbate yourself in front of strange men.Ó
I heard Polly issue a burbling shriek and knew her to already be
entertaining her gentlemen. My own quickly unzipped themselves and
presented their penises. I let out a little cry when I saw them.
ÒOh, Rose. Where DO you find men with such large ones?Ó I asked
frankly. I touched my fingers to the two tools which presented
themselves, one on either side of my upturned face.
ÒAsk me no questions and IÕll tell you no lies,Ó Rose replied. My
gentlemen, sensing permission from Rose, undid their pants completely
and dropped them to their ankles. She placed her palms lightly upon their
buttocks and urged them both to spear me at once. I saw, to my
amazement, two nosy cockheads cross my vision and compete to get into
my mouth. Within seconds of their approach I was stretched and filled
with both. I felt like a girl with two giant straws in her mouth, and I
knew my milkshake would be vanilla for sure. In desperation at being
gagged by the organs, I reached out and grabbed for the menÕs balls. IÕd
better empty these boys quick, I reasoned. They were too much for me,
much as I liked them!
ÒOook Oooof!Ó I heard, and knew it to be my own voice as my loves
forced themselves more deeply into me. With Rose tickling their hams,
inquiring into their clefts, I squished and squeezed and groped at their
balls. Both of them were very huge and tight with excitement. It was like
squeezing a pair of hairy wrecking balls. Meanwhile, their smooth tools
drove ever more deeply, and try as I might with my tongue I could not keep
them back.
ÒHey! What are you faggots doing fucking our chicks?Ó I heard
suddenly from somewhere behind me. My loves, though I could not really
alter my gaze to see, both looked up.
ÒHello Louis, Andre,Ó Rose said with warm affection. Then, to my
loves: ÒDonÕt worry, boys. You have their complete permission to cum in
their girlfriendÕs mouths. DonÕt drown them with your sperm, of course.
But a little taste would be okay, wouldnÕt it, Louis?Ó
I guessed Rose had planned the whole thing to shock the men who
now probed Polly and I so fully with their manhood. It had its intended
effect. As soon as LouisÕ words had boomed across the room, my two
newest loves, their bottoms bared to my boyfriend, no doubt fearing the
return of Odysseus himself, began jetting into my mouth.
ÒOh, God,Ó I heard one of my lovers moan. I tried to imagine his
feelings. Here he was, a grown man, his pants around his ankles, about as
vulnerable as a man could be. And then, as if in some gay fantasy, in walk
two other men, not at all disabled, ready, it seemed, to fight to the death.
To be interrupted so, it must have been horrible, and yet wonderful, in a
way, something few men ever attain, actual vulnerability. Permissible
vulnerability, something that jolts a man and yet is not too embarrassing
once its over. After all, these men had their cocks firmly planted in my
mouth. They were violating LouisÕ girlfriend, and AndreÕs too. They were
fucking us, as Andre and Louis were forced to watch.
I think my lovers fathered a thousand children in my mouth that
afternoon, or tried to. Spume after spume of their spunk shot into my
mouth, filling me, swamping my tongue and my ability to swallow. My
cheeks bulged out with their fertility. Their sperm overflowed and spilled
from the corners of my mouth. Like milk it ran out over my chin. I felt it
even invading my nose, their was so much of it. I had two of them, after
all, within me. It was an impossible job to swallow all they gave me.
Rose stood over me, watching my throat work as I battled to down as
much sperm as I could. I was afraid sheÕd scold me for wasting it.
Somewhere, I heard Polly shout as she thought herself finished, only to
find more sperm shooting from the pricks that gorged her mouth.
Just as the sperm first began to gush forth, there was another
development, even naughtier than the rest. I felt an expert pair of long-
nailed female fingers take to my cunny. I was too overwhelmed to see
who it was. Later, when all was done, I learned it was Sylvia. She
touched my spot and diddled with it, most openly, not asking permission or
even speaking to me. I was too high strung from my adventures to close
my legs to her. She twirled and twirled and twirled within and around my
clit. I bucked once, shivered. Placing a palm on my thigh she eased my
hips back onto the table and continued her work. I heard a moan from Polly
and later learned Joanne had attended to her. We needed it, I think. WeÕd
been on tenterhooks since we almost creamed ourselves pillowfighting at
the saloon, on the slick wet post with its invading, sugary froth.
At last the pricks were withdrawn. They were shrinking now. Their
deed was done. With some coughs of self-consciousness the lovers who
had so lustily spermed our mouths now drew up their pants. They made a
manly joke or two, directed at Louis and Andre, to restore their much
prized masculinity. Our true loves watched them, then came up to greet
Polly and I.
ÒHi, Louis,Ó I said with bright eyes. My tummy still heaved a little
from my exertions under SylviaÕs finger. Politely she desisted, though I
wouldnÕt, I think, minded if sheÕd continued. Sperm ran all down my
cheeks and even somehow had gotten into my hair.
AN OPEN LETTER
by holy joe
Dear Reader,
IÕm as interested in conserving our precious earth as you are. I know
if I sent this letter (below) to TIME, it would take up valuable space in
their magazine. And their magazine is printed on paper. TheyÕre not
socially conscious like this zine is, which appears only on the Internet.
Hence, to save our forests, IÕll print this letter to TIME here. That way
they wonÕt feel obligated to print it in their next issue. (It concerns an
article in their April 21, 1997 issue, on page 82.)
Dear Time,
You end your article on Darnell McGee by writing, ÒPolice have no
suspects. But there were plenty of people who might have wanted McGee
dead.Ó
Why?
IÕm forced to reach my own conclusion, alas, thanks to your lack of
explanation. As I see it, we have three options here:
a. because he Òwould hang out by the skating rink or the junior high
school.Ó
b. because heÕs a fag.
c. because heÕs a goddam nigger.
LetÕs proceed through our options one at a time:
a. junior high - nope. Not this one. After all, as Hillary Clinton
said, ÒIt Takes a Whole Village.Ó IÕm sure Hillary wouldnÕt want to
discriminate against anyone, so we should applaud Darnell for taking an
interest in our precious children.
b. fag - definitely. IÕm glad TIME is encouraging violence against
fags. If weÕd killed off all the fags in the 1950Õs, there wouldnÕt have
been any AIDS.
c. nigger - absolutely! Without niggers we wouldnÕt have welfare,
crime, or stolen hubcaps. Again, I applaud TIME for encouraging violence
against niggers.
Keep up the good work, TIME!
Sincerely,
holy joe
P.S. DonÕt forget feminists! There would be zero unemployment in
the U.S. if all the women stayed home, where they belong. Please
encourage violence against feminists in your next issue.
AND IN THE END...
Too Young to Understand Sex?
UNDERSTAND LETHAL INJECTIONS
ÒWhen asked if... the age of eligibility for the death penalty should
be lowered from the present minimum of 18, [California Governor Pete]
Wilson said the law should set that age Ôat 14.Õ
ÒThe next day, Bustamante, the newly elected [California] assembly
speaker, told reporters that, reluctantly and Ôwith a tear in my eye,Õ he
might have to support capital punishment for offenders as young as 13.
ÒÔI guess I would default to say that a hardened criminal is a
hardened criminal no matter at what age,Õ he said.
ÒSpokesmen for both leaders confirmed the comments.Ó
- Chicago Tribune, April 15, 1997, Document ID: S7105023.
(Under California law it is illegal for anyone under 18 to have sex with
anyone, regardless of age. - h.j.)
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 247 EMISSION