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foR a gOod TimE call 1-202-CHELSEA Collect Calls weLcome!
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 66
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Desire Isle
Chapter Ten
"$10,000?!" Melanie gasped, and Candy had to nudge her again, lest
they begin to entertain their fellow pedestrians.
"Indeed," Renoir said. "And I'd be more than happy to buy such girls
dinner, and take them to a show, dancing, whatever they might desire."
"Well, we don't have any specific plans for this evening, do we,
Melanie?" Candy asked her friend.
"I'm sure we could cancel," Melanie replied softly.
"Then it's agreed," Renoir said. "We'll meet this evening at the Ocean
Tower."
"Alright," Candy said, for both of them.
The memory of that afternoon's conversation came flowing back as
Melanie sat picking at her caviar. Beside her stood a sheet of glass,
beyond which twinkled the cityscape of Miami. The moon was just rising,
a curved sickle looking for a harvest.
"Shall we dance?" Renoir asked Candy.
"Why not?" Candy replied. He rose and took Candy by the hand.
"Come, Melanie, you can dance too," Candy said to her friend.
"Yes! I'll be the luckiest man on the dance floor," Renoir said.
Reluctantly Melanie agreed. A few minutes later both she and Candy were
on the floor, dancing with Renoir.
Now two girls as beautiful as Melanie jiggling away in skin tight
dresses are bound to attract a lot of male attention. But Melanie and
Candy dutifully refused the other men who tried to break in on their dance
with Renoir. For $10,000, Renoir was entitled to dance as much as he
liked with them. During the dancing Renoir at times held each girl close,
sometimes holding both at once. Hands slipped to the more special parts
of the body and all parties concerned were pleased with the quality of
what they found. Finally, Renoir with a lump in his pants and the girls
stiff-nippled, their little buds poking insistently at their gowns (for they
wore no bras), the trio returned to their table. Renoir called for the bill.
The girls retreated momentarily to the ladies' room.
"God, what a dancer!" Candy enthused.
"Such a gentleman, too," Melanie said, primping before a mirror. The
bathroom was luxurious. The sinks were of marble and the mirrors framed
with gold.
Soon the girls and Renoir rendezvoused once more. He led them from
the restaurant, one of them on each arm. A limousine was waiting for
them outside the hotel.
"Where do you live?" Candy asked Renoir, not really intending the
effect that any male would take from such a question.
"I'm staying in a hotel, actually," Renoir replied. "I've lived there for
about three months. Even had it redecorated to meet my own specific
tastes."
"Wow," Melanie gushed.
"Would you girls like to view my domicile for yourselves?" Renoir
asked. "I'm always interested in the opinions of females. The female
species seems to have a special talent for interior decoration. Perhaps
you could suggest some improvements."
"I took interior design in high school," Melanie said, again not
intending the full consequences of what a lusty male might make of such a
statement.
"Why, then you must see my penthouse," Renoir replied.
"Your penthouse?" Melanie gushed.
"Of course," Renoir smiled. "Do you think I would bother girls like
yourselves with anything less?"
"I'd like to do some more dancing," Candy said. She placed a gloved
hand on Renoir's thigh. There was a sly grin on her face. "Those men at
the restaurant were such a bother. Do you think your penthouse is big
enough for us to dance there?"
"Why of course," Renoir said. "Let's have some more dancing." He
lowered the smoked glass partition between himself and the driver
partway. "1346 Hacienda--The Palladium," He ordered the driver. The
chauffeur nodded silently. No doubt, as he looked back at Renoir, a girl on
either side of him, he felt a twinge of envy. Then the smoked glass
partition went back up, and all was lost to view.
Renoir's penthouse suite was sumptuously decorated. But, indeed, it
still had the feel of a bachelor pad. Both girls sensed the lack of a
feminizing influence. It added to Renoir's masculine allure.
Renoir stacked a half-dozen of the latest pop CD's on a player. Music
began thumping out, low in volume but enveloping in its appeal. Renoir
poured drinks for the girls and then, cocktail glasses in hand, they began
to dance. Soon Candy and Renoir were bumping and grinding, pressing their
loins together, then backing off, then butting up against each other again.
Melanie was encouraged to join in, and she did. As the dancing progressed
Candy decided to be relieved of her gloves. She bit into the fingers of one
glove, loosening it. Then she pulled it off and tossed it on the floor. A
moment later and her other glove followed. A look from Candy and Renoir
told Melanie she should do the same. Nipping at her own gloves with her
teeth, Melanie soon got them off. A little more dancing ensued, and then
Candy got another idea in her head.
"Unzip me," Candy said suddenly, turning her back to Renoir. As
Melanie watched with both awe and apprehension, Renoir pulled down the
zipper of Candy's tight-fitting dress. Then Candy turned about, facing
Renoir once more. But now the back of her dress was unzipped. As Candy
wriggled about, her eyes gleaming mischievously, her dress began to droop
on her body. Soon her boobies were revealed. They bounded out almost in
time to the music, first one, then the other. Candy looked down at them,
then back at Renoir. The two of them came together, joined loins, then
backed off. Candy turned her back to Renoir once more, and leaned
forward. She wriggled her bottom at him. Her dress dropped to her hips
and hung there. Then Candy turned about and moved toward Renoir. They
bumped genitals, and Renoir deftly shore Candy's dress from her hips. The
dress fell in a pool to Candy's ankles and she daintily stepped out of it,
still keeping time to the music, a cocktail still balanced precariously
twixt her fingers.
Candy turned to Melanie. The redhead was only in a pair of chiffon
panties now, as well as her heels. "You must undress too," Candy said to
Melanie. "It's much more fun!" Melanie caught Renoir's eye and he was
obviously eager for her to comply. She danced within range of him, then
presented him her back. With a swift movement of the man's fingers, the
deed was done. Self-consciously Melanie at first tried to press her arms
to her sides to keep her dress up as she continued to dance. But then she
let her arms drop, knowing her shyness must look silly. The first of her
boobies bounced out. She turned to face Renoir. The second bounced free.
Guiltily she looked down at her naked breasts. As she wriggled her hips
they responded as might twin peaks of gelatin. They wobbled all about,
their tempting nipples stiffly inviting the touch of fingers. Renoir moved
close. Suddenly he reached up and grabbed both of Melanie's tempting
melons. He squeezed them, testing their firm resiliency and momentarily
halting their wiggly ways. Melanie's nipples quivered in Renoir's grasp.
"May I kiss them?" Renoir asked hotly. Melanie looked up at him with
wide eyes, said nothing. Renoir brought his lips to her teats and sucked
each nipple into his mouth in turn. Then he released her, and reached down
and helped her dress over her hips. A moment later Melanie was stepping
out of her evening attire, leaving her only in panties and pumps.
After a few minutes more of dancing Renoir walked over to the CD
player. He pressed a button, and the pop tune in progress stopped. A
classical piece came on. He invited the girls over to several side chairs
arranged around a table. "I have some gifts for you girls," Renoir said. He
went into another room. As the girls pondered all the wicked things a man
might bring out, they glanced at each other nervously. But before their
minds could call up too many things Renoir returned, and in his hands he
held jewelry! He insisted that the girls remove their earrings. Then he
himself put dangling, jewelled earrings, much more expensive than the
girls could have afforded, on each of them. The girls felt special and
protected, like little captured birds, as Renoir affixed the earrings on
them. Then he admired both girls, and said, "I think you're both old enough.
Come, we'll pay a visit to my playroom."
"Your playroom?!" Melanie asked.
"For adults," Renoir added.
"Oh," Melanie gulped. He led them down a hall in his apartment.
Melanie walked with mincing steps, but Candy sashayed along, seemingly
at peace with whatever lay ahead. Fishing keys from his pocket, Renoir
stopped before a door and unlocked it. Then, his hand on the door's knob, he
turned to both girls. "I hope you don't find my favorite room unsettling.
You're welcome to suggest improvements to it, of course." And with that
he opened the door and ushered them inside.
As Melanie caught her first glimpse of the room she nearly froze.
There were straps, chains, O-rings, and all manner of wicked little
implements, all centered around a wooden table that stood in the middle
of the room. Candy turned to look at Renoir, probably as surprised as
Melanie, but managing to suppress her fear. "It's sound-proofed, of
course," Renoir said airily, as if that answered whatever doubts the girls
may have had.
"This looks more like a stable," Melanie said in a barely audible
voice.
"Yes, and it needs fillies," Renoir smiled.
"Do you bring dates here often?" Candy asked boldly.
"Only my favorite ones," Renoir said. He looked meaningfully at
Candy's sumptuous, naked titties. She turned quietly away from his gaze.
"What are these little things?" Melanie asked, venturing to a
nightstand beside the table and picking up a tiny cone. Renoir walked up
behind her and grasped her gently by her slim shoulders.
"It's a suppository, for the urethra," he said softly. Melanie shivered
and dropped the cone at once.
"Where shall we start?" Renoir asked Candy, his hands still on
Melanie's shoulders.
"Let's dance in here!" Candy offered brightly.
"Of course," Renoir replied. "But to dance in here one must dress
appropriately." Melanie thought Renoir would try to take off her panties
as he leaned over her. But instead he picked up a small clamp. He lifted it
to Melanie's stiff nipple. Before she could fully understand what he was
at, she watched the clamp brought to her tittie and felt a sharp pain as it
was released on her teat.
"Ouch!" Melanie hissed. The pain subsided, being more shock than
trauma, and Melanie was left staring at a little clip that hung tenaciously
upon her right nipple. Then, wordlessly, she watched as Renoir fetched a
second clamp from the table and adorned her other nipple.
Candy had sidled up to the pair and now Renoir pushed Melanie aside.
He fetched two more clasps and confronted Candy. He told her to
straighten her back, to stick out her chest. Candy slipped her drink onto
the nightstand and dropped her hands to her sides. Glancing down at her
chest, she arched her back, pulled back her shoulders, and stuck out her
tits. She watched, almost with curiosity, as Renoir lifted the first of the
clips to her mammaries. She bit her lips and briefly shut her eyes as the
first clip took hold. The second followed, eliciting a similar response.
"There," Renoir said, admiring his handiwork. "I think we're ready to
dance." But Melanie had been studying a small apparatus, which, to the
detriment of Renoir, had been left lying next to an instruction sheet on
how to use it. Melanie looked up, clutching the naughty device in her
hands.
"No," Melanie said. "If we're to wear nipple clamps, you must be
restrained too. With a--(she looked down at the instruction sheet still
lying on the nightstand)--with a cock ring!"
"With a?" Renoir began.
"Yes!" Candy replied. She lunged at Renoir from behind. She reached
round his waist and began unbuckling his belt. Melanie knelt before him,
laid the ring on the floor, and unzipped his pants. Her fingers snaked
inside his underwear and brought forth a steaming rod. Renoir looked
down to watch himself as Candy dropped his trousers. His underpants
were then shorn from his hips, leaving him naked from the waist down.
Melanie flicked her tongue around the flange of Renoir's circumcised cock,
to make sure it was at full erection. Then, taking the instruction sheet
from the night stand, she studiously applied the cock ring to Renoir's
genitals. When she was done Renoir's testicles and penis bulged hotly
from a pair of adjustable ivory rings that were painfully tight. Renoir,
relishing Melanie's impudent inexperience, nonetheless begged her to
loosen the rings a bit, which she finally did. Then she rose and invited
Renoir to dance.
There was no music, but the girls hummed a tune and the dancing
seemed better than any that had gone before. Renoir's cock jiggled
stiffly, the balls below swollen with sperm, aching to be relieved. A
succession of droplets of pre-cum formed on the tip of Renoir's penis, only
to be flung away as he continued dancing. Often the girls, squealing, were
inadvertently hit by Renoir's flying pre-cum.
"What do you do with the 'fillies' you bring in here?" Candy asked
Renoir.
"Oh, I indoctrinate them into the finer pleasures," Renoir replied.
"What are you going to do to us?" Melanie asked. She bumped her
pantied loins up against Renoir's captive cock.
"What would you like to have done to you?" Renoir asked. Melanie had
not expected an answer like that. She screwed up her pretty face and
thought a moment.
"My daddy put me over a table and whacked my bottom," Melanie said,
seemingly changing the subject. "It was his study. This room sort of
reminds me of that.
"Did it hurt?" Renoir asked. Melanie looked surprised. She put her
hands to her pantied rear. "Have you ever had your bottom walloped?"
"No," Renoir said. "Tell me about it."
"It hurt," Melanie replied. "Like the dickens."
"But you liked it?" Renoir asked.
"No, of course not!" Melanie frowned. "Who ever heard of someone
liking a spanking?"
Holy JoeÕs PERVERT PARADE
Sign up today!
I could just sit on the toilet at Burger King on July 4th, but there are
usually so many people eating there on that day that I decided to do
something else. Hence, I am organizing a Pervert Parade. I wanted to
march down Main Street but the city wouldnÕt give me a permit for that.
So I figure weÕll just wander through suburbia instead.
I was going to put all the child molesters up front in our parade. But
I was worried that might somehow offend the morays of the community.
So I decided to put the transvestites up front instead. After all, who
hasnÕt seen Rocky Horror Picture Show? So nobody should have any
problem with a bunch of transvestites marching down their street.
Next, we will have the gays who are married. Again, no problem--
theyÕre married! Then there will be the single gays. If any of the married
gays drop their garters this will give the single gays a chance to pick
them up and, hopefully, get married too!
Then we will have the men with three wives. I chose three as a
starting point since, with all the adultery going on these days, who
doesnÕt have two Ôde factoÕ wives? So men with three or more wives will
be next. Maybe we will even have someone with as many wives as
Abraham! (IÕm hoping!)
Next we will have the fetishists. Instead of bringing a significant
other they will, of course, bring along their favorite fetish. Expect to see
lots of nice womenÕs stockings, little girlÕs panties, dildoes, and stuff
like that. After them will come the nudists. Now, if you are going to
participate as a nudist, there is one condition. Your cock must be erect. I
used to be a nudist myself, and I donÕt want our fellow Americans to think
weÕre sexually dysfunctional or anything.
After the nudists we will have, as a nice contrast, the men who like
to dress in womenÕs clothing. It should be a regular fashion show. Men in
womenÕs dresses, nighties, and bras. Maybe Howard Stern will join this
contingent. I was also going to invite women who dress like men, but you
see so many of them these days that they arenÕt considered perverted
anymore.
Finally we will have the child molesters. Given that children usually
follow a parade, I figure the molesters wonÕt be too unhappy being
relegated to last place. They can hand out lollipops to the kiddies so that
everyone will be happy that we marched by.
Oh, yes. At the climax of our parade (much better than Òend,Ó donÕt
you think) we are going to do away with Senator Exon. I was going to burn
him in effigy but I donÕt want to cause any pollution. So we will poop on
him instead. Then, so as not to violate any of our cityÕs laws, we will of
course scoop up all our poop when we are done.
I hope you can participate in my parade. The more the merrier, as
they say. You still have over a month to become a pervert so get started
today!
AND IN THE END...
FAREWELL TO ALL THAT
But long live alt.sex.stories!
ÒHomerÕs poetry has survived not one, but two total collapses of
civilisation--first the one which intervened between the early singers
of Homeric song and the classical Greek period centuries later, then the
one following the dissolution of the Roman Empire.Ó - The Economist,
May 18, 1996, pg. 87
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-END OF 66 EMISSION
-Well, she wouldnÕt go out with me. What do you expect?!