Satan Goes on Holiday...
DISÕS SOJOURN
Now available for downloading at ftp site: members.aol.com/nnd666
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 81
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Office Slave
Chapter Two
"Mmmhmm," Veronica said. "Prepare me for that-for the pain."
"Yes," Robert said. He seemed to squirm under the pressure of a
rising erection. Melanie still held the switchy rod aloft, hoping for
permission to continue. "Having a baby is probably the most painful thing
a woman will ever endure in her lifetime," Robert said. "Much more
painful than anything a man might have to go through, wars and all. Giving
you some pain now, training you to take pain, that would indeed be
helpful."
"A girl never gets used to the pain of a good birching," Melanie
interjected, forgetting that she should not undercut the direction of the
argument if she wished to switch Veronica's bottom further. Veronica
wriggled upon Robert's lap. No doubt it was to throw off some of the pain
that had already been imparted to her bumptious bottom, but it had the
effect bringing Robert's mind to a resolution.
"Surely the pain of a whipping or a birching has its beneficent
aspects?" Robert asked Melanie, eyebrow uplifted.
"Well-" Melanie replied. She put a finger to the corner of her mouth.
The birch, uplifted, was allowed to descend a bit. Robert's eyes traveled
from her face to the crotch of her panties. Her extremely short dress did
absolutely nothing to conceal the swath of black chiffon that sheathed her
tempting pussy lips. "It is nice being the center of attention, I've learned
that," Melanie said. "And it makes me feel all sparkly--when it's over.
But the actual doing of it is horrid."
"Yet you seem more than ready to impart just such a punishment to
Veronica's bottom," Robert said with a note of reproval.
"Every girl needs a good whacking now and then," Melanie said.
"Women would be total bitches if men didn't put them in their place once
in awhile. You don't know how rotten we can be."
"Oh, I think I have an idea," Robert said with a sinister grin.
Suddenly he grasped Melanie by her slim bare shoulders.
"Robert!" Melanie screeched. In the ensuing tussle she let the birch
rod fly from her grasp. Blinking her eyes, Veronica turned on her side,
still over Robert's lap. As he wrestled with Melanie, Veronica felt her
lissome nude form, all ready in its bondage straps, urged from Robert's
knees. Veronica wound up on the floor of the limo, atop Robert's shoes,
with Melanie sprawled over his knees in her place.
Melanie's dress was already displaying the lower third of her bottom
when she landed atop Robert's knees. She continued to struggle, however,
resisting Robert as he upped her dress to the small of her back and
lowered her alluring black panties to the tops of her thighs. Like the full
moon, boldly shining forth from the dome of the sky, her white bottom
bulbed out to Robert. "Veronica!" Robert called, having to bend over his
knees to find her on the floor. "You will indeed get your wish for a
whipping, but as a true sadist it will occur at my discretion, not yours.
Now get up off that floor and prepare to administer your first birching!"
Eyes wide, Veronica scrambled upon the bench seat of the limo. She
retrieved Melanie's rod and examined it, lightly running the tips of her
fingers over the bud-covered branches. So this was what had so stingingly
reproved her bottom! She looked up to find Robert staring at her
expectantly. Her jutting, cherry tipped breasts, her flat tummy, the vee of
her firm thighs, all adorned with the straps and buckles of masochistic
submission. Over Robert's knees Melanie still put up a futile resistance.
Her movements were less frantic now, as if having accepted defeat. But
Veronica knew just one well-applied swish of the birch would bring her
back to a full-blooded frenzy.
A sudden idea seemed to seize Robert. He turned his head slightly
away from her, thought a moment, then looked back at Melanie's bottom.
"Little Melanie's bottom, bared to the birch. This calls for a celebration!"
Robert announced.
"Ohh, Robert!" Melanie cried in a pouty voice. She seemed a bit like a
wet kitten to Veronica.
"Why would you celebrate such a thing?" Veronica asked meekly. The
ways of men still seemed a mystery to her, even now. Just when she
thought she had them figured out completely, she would meet a man who
would challenge her assumptions.
"Because I've never actually had the pleasure of seeing Melanie
receive a birching," Robert said. "Oh, I've been told about it by another
man-"
"That damn Martin!" Melanie offered, unbidden, squirming her naked
cheeks as if in remembrance of whippings past. Robert looked down,
caressed her peach.
"-But never have I actually had the delight of seeing her bottom
punished with my own eyes." Robert reached out and grasped a bottle of
champagne chilling in an ice bucket. He pulled it close and popped the
cork. The cork hit the smoked glass screening their compartment from the
driver. Veronica wondered if the chauffeur heard the thump of the cork
against the partition.
Robert directed the spewing contents of the champagne bottle at
Veronica. Playfully Veronica attempted to avoid being hit, to no avail.
The white bubbles spurted all over her breasts, hitting her face at times,
running in thick foaming rivulets down her tummy to gather in her wispy
Venus delta. Veronica waved her birch rod at Robert, reminding him who
still held it.
Though the backs of Melanie's thighs had been splattered with some
of the champagne, as well as her calves, her bottom remained untouched.
The bottle of champagne settled down. Robert lifted it above Melanie's
bare pumpkin. He held it poised over the uppermost part of her bottom,
right where her bottomcrack ended and the small of her back began.
Artfully Robert began to pour. Melanie started as the liquid hit directly in
the crevice of her bottom. Gradually Robert urged the lightly stinging
bubbly down the length of her declivity, watching as it pooled between her
bumptious cheeks. "Hold still, Melanie," Robert admonished, as the girl
gave a little squirm. "I do not wish to use you to the point of injury, but I
can if you insist by disobeying." Despite the exposure of her asscrack to
the tart alcohol, Melanie stilled her jiggling hips. "Bend forward," Robert
said to Veronica. He was still pouring, but very slowly, keeping Melanie's
crack full of liquor even as the excess sluiced onto the small of her back
or ran off her pussy lips onto Robert's lap. "Bend forward and drink from
Melanie's bottom."
"What?!" Veronica gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. She held her
fingers splayed above the swell of her breasts, in all but her attire
looking like a shocked Victorian lady.
"Do it now!" Robert ordered. The liquor would not last forever.
Despite the rod she held Veronica gave a little gulp and obeyed. She knew
she would be no match for Robert if he chose to force her compliance.
With a slightly guilty look, Veronica bent forward. Hesitantly she touched
her long-nailed fingers to Melanie's jutting bottom cheeks. She spread
them slightly.
"I hope you wiped yourself well if you took a dump," Veronica
murmured to Melanie. Then she extended her tongue. Like a cat drinking
water, she began lapping at the champagne in Melanie's asscrack.
"God that's beautiful," Robert groaned. He shifted slightly, obviously
under the duress of an erection. The alcohol in Melanie's asscrack sloshed
to and fro slightly from his movement.
eislngor;zhfggoa Extraterrestrial activity in your neighborhood may
be disrupting receipt of Fuck Decency...
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Las Vegas Lust
Chapter One
My first exposure to kinky sex came when I was only 18. Actually I
was still 17 when it happened, but I had started college and was living
away from home so I passed myself off as an 18-year-old. I met a nice
boy, named Joe, a linebacker on the college football team. I went out on
several dates with him. About that time he had to switch apartments, and
I went over to his place on a Saturday morning to help him move.
I was dumping the contents of one of his dresser drawers into a
paper sack when I spied a gold lapel pin. I had never seen one like it
before. It consisted of the male and female sex symbols. It was quite
small, and unless one had been standing close to Joe when he was wearing
it one would not have been able to make out its design.
I wondered about it for a moment, and was about to pass it off as
some gag or fraternity trinket when I decided to ask him about it.
"Joe, what's this?" I asked, getting up and walking across the room
to him, turning the little bauble in my fingers as I went.
"Uh, that's a club I belong to," Joe replied. With some hesitation he
described it as a place where men and women, mostly single, met to
explore, as he put it, "the potential of their bodies." Now if he had said
"the body's potential" I might have given a shrug of my shoulders and
tossed the thing and my interest in it, into the nearest recycled grocery
sack. But I wasn't contemplating majoring in English because I had the
linguistic dexterity of a football player. I knew Joe usually managed to
mangle verbal obfuscations, with a result that he revealed more of the
truth than the original author of the statement had intended.
I didn't get much more out of Joe that morning, but that night, when
it was late and he was feeling romantic and I was deserving of his
gratitude for all the help I had given him, I managed to pry a little deeper.
It seemed the club was at best a sociable gathering, and at worst an
organized orgy. I wasn't at all sure I wanted to find out which. Joe,
however, had admitted to being a member, and if my boyfriend was
involved I felt the need to find out about it.
Who were these people? What exactly did they and Joe do together?
There were women in the club...that I had learned...and I wondered what
they looked like. Were they prettier than I was? More sophisticated?
What about them appealed to Joe? And what about the other men? Did
they look as handsome as Joe? Would they find me as attractive as Joe
did?
Needless to say, I kept digging for information until Joe finally
relented and came to class one day with an application. The teacher was a
bore, the subject was Chemistry, and I decided to quit taking notes for a
while and fill out Joe's application instead. The first page was pretty
standard: name, age, hair color. At the bottom however it asked for bust
size, waist, and hips.
Page two was a real shocker. I let out a little cry. People looked at
me, including the professor. I blushed. My mind scrambled to recall the
professor's last point.
"I didn't know hydrogen could, uh, mate with oxygen, professor," I
said. Several of the girls exchanged quizzical looks. The boys just
seemed glad for an opportunity to look at me instead of the teacher.
"Yes indeed," the professor said, apparently delighted that his
lecture had provoked such an aroused response from me. "That is how we
make water."
"You mean THAT'S how we go to the bathroom?" Joe asked. Between
his untutored remarks and my decollette blouses we were quite prominent
students.
But back to page two of the form. The first question asked me when
I had lost my virginity. Not IF I had lost it, mind you. I guess it either
assumed that everyone who applied to the club wasn't a virgin or it only
accepted those who weren't. Next it asked when I had first given a boy a
blow job, and finally when I had been penetrated anally. I'd never had the
courage to try the latter, so I just lied and put down the current year. Of
all the forms I knew I'd have to fill out as I matriculated into adulthood,
who the hell would think I'd have to put down the year I'd been fucked up
the butt?
Next the form asked, in clinical fashion, what sex toys I'd
experimented with and which were my favorite. A list was provided, and I
just checked off the names that I'd heard rumors about in high school. I
must say as I answered the obscene questions my pulse quickened and I
began to feel a longing between my thighs. I kept reading on, spurred by
curiosity. This was wild stuff!
Finally the form wanted to know about my sexual fantasies. What
had I tried? What was I afraid of? Did I have any "new and interesting
suggestions for sexual play?"
My mouth was wide open and my hand was at my throat as I looked
over the final lines of the form and attempted to make up something
believeable that I could put down. I tried to sound as cosmopolitan as
possible. Only much later did I realize that my age, combined with my
Midwestern background, colluded to make the awkward pretentions I
attributed to myself virtually unbelieveable. Needless to say, when my
form was turned into the club it was not approved on the basis of my
sexual experience.
After that memorable class, in which I was first exposed to a much
more frightening and exhilerating form of Chemistry, namely that between
adult men and women, Joe asked to see my form. Eyes wide with shaken
innocence, I presented it.
"Hmm, yes, well you look like you'd be the most experienced member
of our club," Joe said.
"I do?" I said, surprised and not a little taken aback.
"Why, yes," Joe said. "You've done more than even I have...and I'm no
novice in these matters, you can be sure." Joe was about to show the form
to several of his football buddies when I tore it out of his hands. He
grabbed for it, and, at a loss what else to do, I shoved it down my blouse.
We were in public, and that stopped him.
Later that night we were in Joe's apartment and I still had the form
secreted between my bosoms, though by now I had managed to fold it into
a neat little square. Joe sensed the form might be in my bra...and in any
event figured he could use the pretext of inquiring about the contents of
my bra to get it off. After some bantering I drew out the form. He took it,
commenting on how its proximity to my body had made the paper warm. He
unfolded it. When the night was over he still had possession of the form,
and he had talked me into letting him turn it in to the club.
ATTENTION HUMANS
Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding. We appreciate your
recent attempts to portray us but, really, do you think creating disgusting
movies about us is going to get you better fertilizer?
Earth is a carefully created ecosystem that has been designed to
provide us with the richest possible mix of nutrients. Our diet requires
lots of juicy (preferably hairless) beef, mixed with vegetables (weÕre not
real big on vegetables), wrapped in a savory sauce of carbon monoxide and
spiked with nuclear radiation.
ÔYourÕ planet is the wholly owned property of the McMartian Burger
Company. We specialize in creating fast food experiences for Martians. In
accordance with our expansion plans, we will be installing a drive-thru
restaurant on your planet in the near future. Admittedly, it wonÕt be a
full-service restaurant, but the active lives of busy martians precludes a
full-service facility at this time.
Please do not be alarmed. We have no interest in ÔdestroyingÕ you.
You have been grown as food, and we will be harvesting you for our
purposes in the near future. If a ship lands and little green men ask for
the McMartian Happy Meal, thatÕs you. Please direct them to low earth
orbit, where their order will be efficiently processed.
Some customers may want to see the food as it is being prepared. In
these cases we will be bringing them down to earth to show them how we
suck up you, your atmosphere, and your flower garden to make a tasty
meal. If you see your daughter shoot up in the air, it is not the ÔRapture.Õ
It is simply our fry boy, Butthead McMartian, preparing a meal for one of
our many happy customers. Generally speaking, except for demonstration
purposes, we will simply wipe out entire school districts to prepare our
meals. (Especially at lunch hour, when we expect to be very busy.)
This does not mean you should stop having sex. You are food. Please keep
mating in accordance with Evolution of Food Doctrine 255b: ÒFood can be
made most inexpensively if it has as its overriding objective to mate with
itself. In this way, only a minimum of fertilizer need be added.Ó
We have a patent on you. You were biologically engineered (out of
monkeys, we might add) in order that we would be able to eat you. The
McMartian Burger Company has invested a great deal of time and money in
preparing Earth as a food supply for our expanding company.
You are not Ôsentient life.Õ Do you mind meld? Do you practise
telepathy? Do you worship the Great Martian? Of course not!
One last point: please disconnect all sex story related newsgroups
on your ÔInternet.Õ We have found, statistically, that humans interacting
with a sex story newsgroup are temporarily unavailable for real sexual
activity during this period. This cuts into our profits. We need as many
humans as possible if we are to meet our target of 50 Billion Served. We
sent you a Pope some time ago and you should obey his instructions: No
Birth Control, No Abortions, No Sex Story Newsgroups. We expect you to
have lots of children so we can eat them. Please do not disappoint us in
this matter as our shareholders have been promised the very highest
return. Currently we are attempting to raise our profit margin so we can
sell out to the Exon Burger Company and our board of directors can retire
to Alpha Centauri with golden parachutes.
We at McMartian Burger Company are proud to have earth as part of
our expansion plans and we look forward to serving you again and again.
AND IN THE END...
TIME FOR A NEW ENEMY
(and another tax increase)
ÒThe American government is trying to make the Militia members
the child molesters of the 90Õs.Ó - o.j. (oracle joe)
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