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I HAVE STOPPED MASTURBATING !!!
IÕll be honest. I was about to jack off. I already had my pants off.
My hand was lingering within range of my dick. Then, accidentally, as I
was searching for the new Penthouse on my bookshelf, my eyes wandered
over to Brooke. You remember her. SheÕs in a magazine. I liked her so
much that I bagged her and hung her up on my wall. I mentioned her last
issue.
ÒDonÕt shoot yet... you might meet me soon!Ó I heard Brooke say. My
hand paused. I couldnÕt believe it. Brooke was actually speaking to me!
ÒBrooke!Ó I groaned in reply. My dick begged for attention but, with
Brooke staring at me so sweetly, I simply couldnÕt bring myself to do it.
IsnÕt this amazing? You would think that a naked girl, staring at me
from a magazine, would inspire me to jack off. But it didnÕt. Instead I got
down on my knees and thanked Brooke for saving me from the sin of
masturbation.
From this we can derive a new rule of social theory: great porn
causes men NOT to masturbate! Instead, they wish to live up to the
perceived desires of the girl they are staring at in the magazine. I would
never admit to the real Brooke, in person, that I was a hopeless jackoff.
And with such a realistic photo of her hanging on my wall, IÕm reluctant to
BE a jackoff, even when IÕm alone.
Now the only question that remains is this: when will Brooke show
up at my dumpster? Obviously it will take a little while, but I want
Brooke to know that I am ready and waiting for her. Also, it would be good
to emphasize the following: I will be making even more sperm in the
interim. I canÕt help it. My balls just keep producing it. I could reach a
dangerous condition of Ôoverload.Õ How embarrassing it would be for
Brooke to show up during my breakfast, tomorrow, and find me
uncontrollably jacking off!
Brooke, are you reading this? Time is of the essence! IÕm not sure
how long I can hold out. If you want to spend the night with a real
stallion, (as opposed to a hopelessly flaccid loser), now is the time to
cum! (But not before you arrive!)
DonÕt bother e-mailing me, Brooke. Just show up. DonÕt worry about
the sign on the outside of my dumpster that says ÒNo Playing or Climbing.Ó
ThatÕs just for ugly girls.
Brooke, my love! Hurry!!! A guy with sperm is similar to a guy with
diarrhea. Both of them can only hold it so long. Already IÕm using just One
ha nnd to type t h is.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
NAKED girls and more at:
http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Issue No. 384
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
PassionÕs Playpen
Chapter Four
ÒGive them something to soothe their throats,Ó Marie said to the
gardener. ÒIÕd hate to see such lovely voices go hoarse.Ó The gardener
fetched a wine bottle from behind a sack of fertilizer. Kate wondered if
he secreted it there so he could drink himself through his daily duties.
The gardener uncorked the wine (it had been drunk from before) and
offered it to KateÕs lips.
Kate refused, twisting her head away.
ÒDrink, little one,Ó Marie said. She stroked KateÕs throat and felt
her little bobbing AdamÕs apple hidden underneath her swan-like neck. The
gardener forced the neck of the bottle into KateÕs mouth, as if it were his
penis. He tilted the bottle up and Kate, feeling rather like a baby being
bottle-fed, was forced to gulp down wine. It was red wine. The gardener
poured too fast and some of the wine slopped out of her and ran down her
chin and spattered her breasts.
ÒItÕs not good to waste wine,Ó Marie said. She ran a finger between
the cheeks of KateÕs bottom, in her crack, and Kate shivered. In just a
moment her bottom would be a red ball of fire! Marie patted her white
cheeks. ÒYes, red as the wine,Ó Marie said, and Kate knew what she meant.
Cindy was given a drink of the wine. As the gardener poured it into
her, ignoring her pleas and protests, Marie patted her belly. The redhead
flinched.
ÒYes, your baby will bounce in your tummy while IÕm whipping you,Ó
Marie teased the girl. ÒPerhaps youÕll both get a little exercise, hmmm?Ó
ÒNo, please!Ó Cindy burbled, the wine bottle still jammed in her
mouth. The gardener laughed at her attempt to speak with the bottle
inside her.
ÒNow they are quite ready, I think,Ó Marie said. ÒBut gag them,
Bogart. IÕm tired of having them beg me for favors.Ó
The gardener, Bogart by name, though he resembled Bigfoot more
than a Hollywood actor, fetched two strips of rawhide that hung on the
wall. He forced a strip into each girlÕs mouth, pushing her tongue back, so
that she couldnÕt speak and could hardly muster a scream. When he was
done the girls stood silently, still waiting for the crop. Tears ran down
their cheeks. The tears dripped off their faces and joined the droplets of
red wine on their breasts.
ÒYes, my precious little flower. It is time to see what your bottom
can take!Ó Marie chortled. She ran her crop in a saw-like fashion across
the summit of KateÕs cheeks. They were lily white. Kate felt new tears
well in her eyes as she realized her moment of truth was only seconds
away. ÒSuch peerless rounds. I almost hate to cut them up!Ó Marie said.
She bent and kissed each of KateÕs bottomcheeks.
ÒAh, well. C'est la vie,Ó Marie said, upon rising. Kate felt a
withdrawal of air behind her as Marie lifted her crop up past her head.
Then, just as swiftly, the crop zinging down, Kate felt a streak of fire
impress itself deep into her skin. It hit right where Marie had only
moments ago touched the crop to her rear and then kissed her.
ÒYa hoooo!Ó Kate called from somewhere within her gag. Despite
being fitted into a spreader bar, she managed to lift one foot and stamp it
back down on the ground.
ÒThere, thatÕs a nice one, donÕt you think?Ó Marie asked Bogart. She
stood examining KateÕs bottom, which now bore a fiery red streak across
it.
ÒYou forgot to dip the crop, MaÕam,Ó Bogart said. ÒAnd I forgot
myself. Shall I get the bucket for you?Ó
ÒPlease, dearest.Ó Marie said. ÒWe must give Kate a challenge if
sheÕs to win back her loverÕs penis. I would so like a nice big sausage for
lunch, you know.Ó Marie laughed and the gardener, sounding like a big dolt,
for thatÕs just what he was, laughed stupidly along with her.
While Kate was left to waggle her bottom, hoping to throw off the
sting, Marie proceeded to award Cindy a similar cut. She struck hard,
hoping to leave a weal, and Cindy howled like a bitch in heat into her gag.
Ignoring the baby in her belly, Cindy stamped her feet and danced on her
toes and shoved her bottom back at Marie, hoping to catch cool air upon it
but looking for all the world like she wanted more.
Marie laughed, watching the girlÕs display. ÒCindy, for a mother you
certainly are brazen!Ó Marie said. ÒIÕll have to give you extra cuts for
immodesty, lest your baby wind up here itself someday, hmmm?Ó
Cindy was not amused and shed new tears, hanging her head and
sobbing profusely. All the while her bottom kept gyrating, showing itself,
humping back at Marie.
The dark-haired woman returned to Kate. The blondeÕs wigglings had
subsided. Marie gave her a new slash, making her bottom feel like it had
sat down on a hot iron bar. Kate howled and shook her bottom like she
were a stripper at Hooters. Her bosoms jostled under her, their nipples
like thorns, and Marie remembered her clamps.
ÒBogart, fetch the clamps, please. These girls must learn a little tit
discipline,Ó Marie said to her gardener.
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó Bogart replied.
ÒAt least you can keep from showing your nipples,Ó Marie said to
Kate when Bogart had passed her the clamps. ÒYour mother would
appreciate a LITTLE modesty, donÕt you think?Ó Marie caught one of KateÕs
breasts in her hand. It was big and Marie had to squeeze it to keep its
satiny, tear stained bulk from slipping out again. Kate tried to escape,
shaking her chest and moving her hips as if she were at some nudist camp
dance.
Marie wrenched KateÕs breast upward. She extruded its pink thorn-
shaped nipple between two of her finely nailed fingers. Then she
positioned the clamp over the teat, squeezed its jaws open, pushed
forward, and released the clamp handles before Kate could escape.
ÒOwwwww!Ó Kate howled from behind her gag. Her scream was
barely audible. Marie smiled at her handiwork and set about capturing
KateÕs other breast and putting a clamp on its tip.
When Kate was confined, just her tits covered, the rest of her,
including the cones of her breasts, still bare and exposed, Marie went to
Cindy and did the same to her.
ÒYes, you will learn what its like to nurse a baby by having these
little fake mouths biting away at your nipples,Ó Marie said to Cindy. The
redhead seemed not at all disposed to risking the health of her breasts in
the clamps, but with her hands and legs bound there was nothing she could
do but accept them.
Marie, though she found she didnÕt need sighting strokes, decided to
whip the girlÕs backs as well as their bottoms. ÒBetween the bottom of
the shoulder blades, not touching the shoulders, of course, and the middle
of the back is best,Ó Marie told the girls, instructing them as if they were
on their way to being dommes themselves, by learning first how to
receive. ÒThe back may be divided into four quadrants, top to bottom, and
it is the second quadrant that is safest,Ó Marie said. Kate and Cindy only
waggled their bottoms at her in response, their hips lewdly performing a
dance in the cool barn air, hoping for relief from the marks already given.
Each girl bore two neat slices across her hinds. Marie had given them with
the intention that they should remain awhile, as evidence of her dominion.
Both were forming into weals, ridges of skin across the girlÕs fannies that
would last for days and remind the girls of their submission whenever
they sat.
Marie flogged the girlÕs backs. She gave each girl three hard-hitting,
weal forming strokes. The blows shredded part of CindyÕs baby doll
nightie. The little gown was left hanging in tatters from just her right
shoulder. It dipped down on the side of her where it had been torn away,
actually covering part of her bottom.
Marie interspersed the blows to each girlÕs back with more blows to
each girlÕs bottom. After each sweep of the crop Marie redipped her crop
in the bucket of brine to keep it stingingly wet. Kate and Cindy found
themselves lost in a demi-world of passion between their legs and hell on
their behinds. Their nipples screamed for relief inside the jaw-hinged
clamps.
KateÕs gag was released and she was given more wine.
ÒIt will make it easier for you to accept the cuts. I want to give you
more,Ó Marie told her. Kate sobbed and let herself be force-fed the wine.
She was beyond resisting now, simply moving her hips in a kind of auto-
dance, lost in her burning cunt and ass and the pain of her bitten teats.
Bogart made her drink down long draughts of wine.
With Kate re-gagged, Cindy was given wine. Marie did not give her
as much wine as Kate for Cindy was pregnant and, despite her fondness for
seeing Cindy suffer, she did not want to hurt CindyÕs baby. Cindy seemed
to wish for more wine, mouthing at the open neck of the bottle as it was
drawn away. But a few quick gulps was all Marie permitted her.
The punishment of the girls continued. Marie struck more lightly
now that the girls had slipped into themselves, consumed by their pain and
desire. She concentrated on the men now, hitting the girls to drive the
men crazy. With hot faces and straining loins, the men watched. There
was absolutely nothing they could do to save the girls. And they were at
an equal loss to save, or relieve, themselves. Several more peed.
When the girls had, in MarieÕs opinion, had all they could take, she
went to the first man. She ordered Bogart to release him.
ÒIÕm going to release you one by one,Ó she said to the men. Playfully
she slashed at the cock of the man whom Bogart was unchaining. She did
not hit him hard, just enough to leave pink marks on his cock and remind
him who was boss in the barn. ÒIÕd order you to take your pick of the girls
and fuck them, but I know that orders arenÕt necessary. YouÕre quite
helpless to do anything else, arenÕt you, you poor souls? Even if you
wished to strike me, you wouldnÕt. YouÕre too hungry to fuck. And poor
Kate and Cindy are too available for you to even try manhandling me to the
ground. Take them as you wish, gentlemen, in the cunt or in their flaming
asses. But please be gentle if you do them in their asses. TheyÕre quite
tight in back and KateÕs never been fucked, except by me, with a cucumber.
Show their virginal bottoms some consideration if you take them that
way.Ó
Marie, seeing that the first man would soon be rid of his chains, took
some oil from a shelf and lubed his cock with it. The oil warmed as she
applied it to his skin. The man thrust himself at her, hating her for tying
him up but nonetheless eager to cum. Marie rubbed him carefully to keep
him from spending in her hands. Bogart slowed the pace of his unraveling
to give Marie more time to get the man thoroughly oiled.
ÒYes, you will do your duty by Kate or Cindy, hmmm?Ó Marie asked
the man. He stared back at her, frowning. He bucked his hips at her as if
he were trying to batter her down with just his cock. ÒOh, your poor penis!
Here youÕve been tied up in this awful barn, unable to do anything but pee!
Now you want to shoot yourself all over me but I wonÕt let you, no no. You
must fuck Kate or Cindy. Give all your energy to her,Ó Marie said. Then,
turning to Burton and rising from where sheÕd knelt in the hay in front of
the man, she said, ÒHeÕs ready. Loose the rest of his chains and letÕs see
his performance.Ó
Out of Control
by Lisa Scarboro
Have you ever felt like a blast furnace of rage burning
out of control like a California wildfire gone past the
point of containment consuming everything in its path
in a blind white sheet of destruction leaving in its
wake only ashes and traces of memories that make the
eyes burn and sting with bitter sweet pain and
sickening awakening of loss and regret for things that
cannot be salvaged and things so damaged can they
ever be the same as they were before when hopes were
expectantly optimistic and conversation light and
punctuated with laughter and lingering glances and
slight touches that tingle the senses with
foreknowledge of things to come in warm embraces
and soft kisses and endless shivers of excitement and
the even warmer feel of contentment and safety of
knowing that you are special to someone somewhere
that makes all the bad things that happen not matter
quite so much at least a break from them anyhow
because when you burn the fire out youÕre all empty
on the inside anyway because you know it doesnÕt
matter because youÕre never going to win or matter or
amount to anything anyway.
(IÕm glad to see someone learned about punctuation in school... h.j.)
AND IN THE END...
Who needs
JOE CAMEL?
ÒBritish Columbian pot has become the champagne of cannabis.
The stuff that makes pot appealing is a chemical known as THC -- short
for delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol. Most American baby-boomers, in
their mis-spent youth, smoked pot with a THC content of maybe 2
percent. Later, Hawaiian grass labelled ÒMaui WowieÓ offered an
impressive 10 percent or 12 percent. Now, British Columbia-based
growers, using carefully bred seeds and sophisticated indoor
hydroponic gardens, sometimes produce marijuana with a mind-blowing
THC content of 30 percent.Ó
- The Economist, June 27, 1998, pg. 33.
(Down with tobacco! - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock SturgesÕ Radiant
Identities and David HamiltonÕs The Age of Innocence. Support art!
-Also by David Hamilton: A Place in the Sun, and Twenty Five Years
of an Artist Need a book? http://www.amazon.com
- NAKED girls, under 18! Plus scholarly books. Publishing for over
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10185-2377. Phone: 1-212-505-6985; Web:
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-Official Newsletter, Temple of Pan
-END OF 384 EMISSION
EEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAH!
Um, Brooke... letÕs just talk, okay?