President Clinton Announces:
ŅSo that people (like me) donÕt commit adultery, I am designating
this week as National Sex Story Week. Instead of cheating on your spouse
(which screws up your marriage and hurts your kids) simply log on to the
Internet and read a sex story! It works for me! God Bless the United
States of America and all our Internet authors!Ó
- This message has been brought to you by the ŌNew Democrats.Õ
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 84
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Las Vegas Lust
Chapter Two
"How does it feel to be the only naked person in the room?" Melinda
asked with a smile.
"Strange," I said. My breasts heaved forward slightly as I spoke.
"Yes, we women always enjoy being looked at by men, and now you
have a monopoly on that," Melinda said. "As I imagine you will for most of
the night." Involuntarily I gave a little shudder. It was still only a
quarter to five in the afternoon!
Melinda handed my panties not to a woman but to a man. He lifted
them to his nostrils and inhaled. His eyelids drooped with pleasure as he
did so. Then he handed them on to the next man, who did the same.
As my panties were making the rounds Melinda told me that now that
I had undressed I was going to be dressed. I guessed that my new attire
would not cover my charms as well as my old had. In this I was right.
The first item on the agenda was a leather belt which I had pulled
from the bag. As the belt was fastened about my waist I held out the faint
hope that where there was a belt, there must be pants. But the next item
of apparel proved to be a wrist strap instead. I was told to hold out my
arm, and the strap was tied around it. Then my other arm, and another
strap.
I looked down at myself. I raised my hands to my shoulders and
rotated them, admiring the wrist straps. They had a wicked loveliness to
them. Below the belt hugged my waist. As I stood, knees locked and legs
as vertical as Roman columns, a woman Belinda bent and tied a strap
around each of my ankles. Then Gina knelt behind me and tied straps just
above my knees. As she worked I felt her breath upon my bottom.
"Have you ever worn a dog collar?" Melinda asked. I said no. She
buckled a plain black collar about my neck. Then she locked the buckle
shut with a little key.
I shook my hair. All was complete. Melinda placed her hand upon the
small of my back. She stroked it.
"Is there anything you wish to do before you are tied down?" Melinda
asked. "It may be awhile before you get up again."
"Uh, check my makeup?" I said. Actually I was considering a
farewell visit to the potty.
"Of course," Melinda said. She took my hand and led me from the
room. The brass rings on my bands shook as I walked. Their looseness
seemed somehow anathema to the party.
Melinda and I entered the bathroom together. "I must remain with
you. I'm sure you understand?" Melinda said. The door was not closed
behind us. Belinda followed us in. Then Gina arrived in the doorway and
stood there, blocking any view. I was to be accorded a final right of
privacy, or semi-privacy, out of view of the men. I sat on the toilet. Its
seat was covered with fur. I sprinkled out my urinary offering.
Melinda handed me a thick, folded washcloth. One side was damp,
the other dry. I wiped myself first with the damp side, then the dry. I
rose from the toilet. Gina stepped from the door.
"Come, the men will grow impatient," Melinda said. "We'll do your
face in the living room." She took me by the hand and walked me back out.
Once more I stood before the coffee table. It looked less inviting now.
Hard, cold, with stiff legs that no amount of intercourse would weaken.
Belinda walked up to me with a makeup kit in her hands. She
touched up my face. Gina took a brush and brushed my hair. Out of the
corner of my eye I saw a man inspecting the anal dildo.
I was told to turn around. I did a little pirouette on my heels,
turning to face away from the table. I had a pert little smile on my face
as I did so. Confidently I flung my hair from my shoulders. Oddly, I felt
comfortable and secure. I was proud of my body and now I was strutting
my stuff. Joe grinned at me. I could be quite an Amazon sometimes. I felt
just like I had when I first traded my one-piece bathing suit for a bikini.
Then I had been letting the world admire my breasts and belly. Now it was
all of me.
I was told to sit down. Gingerly I placed first my fingers on the
barren wood, then my bottom. It was slick and cold. How many other
girls, I wondered, had been put upon its surface? Was it well polished
just to look good, or to protect it from bodily fluids? I was asked to lie
down. The people crowded around me. Several of them held coils of sturdy
white rope. Gina, holding a coil, ran the rope through her fingers.
Melinda bent and ran a rope through the brass ring on my left ankle.
Then she pulled my ankle all the way over to the left leg of the table and
tied it off. The same thing was done to my right ankle.
"How do you feel?" Gina asked me.
"O.K., I guess," I said, looking up at her. My knees still managed to
press together, despite the splaying of my calves. My hands floated at my
sides, still free, uncertain if they were to be permitted a role in this
unfolding tableau. When Gina bent down and took one of my wrists in her
hand I knew they were not.
A man lifted up my other wrist and handed it to Gina. I gazed up at
them, suspended in the air above my face. The brass rings on all the
straps could be clicked together. As I watched Gina attached my wrists to
each other using just this device. Then my wrists were returned to the
table. But they were placed beyond the top of my head. Then Gina ran a
rope through the rings and drew them to the far end of the table. My arms
were pulled taut. I lay with them sticking straight out, as if I were trying
to touch the opposite end of the table from where my bottom lay. My back
arched upward as Gina pulled. She gave a yank. I was left no slack. Either
end of the rope was tied off to a leg of the table at the far end. Although I
could not see it, the rope formed a V. The point of the V was where the
rope looped through the rings on my wrist bands.
I thought the group had done about all it could, when I saw with
dismay a rope looped through either of the straps just above my knees.
Would my thighs be yanked upon too, as my arms had been? I tried to fight
them a little in their attempt to separate my thighs, but I think that only
made their task more enjoyable. I was spread very wide, so that my knees
actually extended beyond either edge of the table. The ropes for my thighs
would be tied around the same table legs that held my wrists.
"On the count of three let's yank her thighs apart as far as they will
go," Monique said to Gina.
"Okay," Gina agreed.
"No! Please!" I cried, for the first time truly seized with fear. The
girls slowly began their countdown as I implored them to stop. They both
yelled "three" and yanked, but not nearly as badly as I had feared. I both
gasped at the sudden discomfort and gave a sigh of relief at the same
time. The girls howled with laughter and teased me about my fears as
they tied off their ropes.
"Should've let the men do it," a male said. I hoped he was only trying
to get my goat.
I looked at all the people standing over me. There I was, totally
naked, with my pretty pussy totally exposed to this roomful of clothed
strangers. As I was contemplating the stark, unfair contrast between my
attire and theirs, Melinda told the men to unzip themselves. Suddenly I
was not so eager to see the other guests brought down to my level.
With an air of easy expectation the men pulled out their dongs. They
were all at least as big as I had imagined. I shivered. I felt like I was in a
forest of hat racks as I gazed up at all those naked, throbbing dicks. Every
last one was hard. No slackers here, unfortunately. For the first time in
my life I found myself wishing that men, fine men like these, were not so
well endowed.
"We are endowed by our creator with certain incredible prongs..." a
mangled line from Joe's class on the Constitution flitted through my mind.
Was I to have no say in how these men used me? Was I to be simply used,
gang raped, fucked for their pleasure until their balls were empty? I
gazed at their testicles. I had a grandstand view of those of course, too.
They looked swollen, as if the men had been saving themselves for a year
just for me. I had been asked to do certain things...fill out a form, get a
tan...had they been told not to come? To quit having sex a week before the
meeting? A month before the meeting? A century?
Good God! How could I take all that semen? Did they think they were
breaching Hoover Dam to fill its reservoir? Surely some of that spunk
must be intended for the other ladies.
"What do you think?" Monique asked me.
"You'd better put a bucket under my bottom if you expect me to pump
off all that," I said. I was surprised at my frankness.
"You'll manage," Monique smiled. A bottle of liquor was put to my
lips. I was told to drink freely. They poured it into my mouth and I
swallowed several times. Finally the flow got ahead of me and gurgled
out over my lips, to splash down my chin and cheeks. A small wet puddle
formed in the hair beneath my neck. I took it as a spectre of things to
come.
My breasts swelled upward from my chest, still full and firm and
sticking straight up despite the fact that I was lying flat on my back.
They didn't, of course, stick up as far as they would have stuck out, had I
been standing, but they still retained enough of their form to make me
regard my nipples as traitors trying to touch the men's balls. Just what I
didn't need was the men getting the idea that they would use my nipples to
tickle their testicles. I could just see my face being splattered with
release after release of semen. As much as they had to release, I could
drown!
I was contemplating which would be worse, getting banged by all
those men in my poor exposed pussy, or in my little mouth. Suddenly
Melinda solved the dilemma for me.
"Extend your tongue, Alexis," Melinda said. In her hand, perhaps to
ensure my compliance, she held a long, whippy rod that I had earlier
spotted in the shopping bag. That wicked thing I had avoided pulling out.
The whip I would have avoided too, if I had been able to distinguish it
beforehand from the restraints. Not wanting to correct my nipples'
traitorous intentions by bringing that scary rod upon me, however, I
awkwardly presented the tip of my tongue.
At Melinda's command, each man in turn stuck his penis into my
mouth. The first to do so, named Steve, leaned across the table until his
hands came to rest on the shoulders of a fellow on the other side. The man
held Steve's wrists, steadying him. The knob of Steve's penis came within
range of my tongue and, like a mosquito, I flicked a drop of pre-cum from
his pee hole. Steve groaned, delighted. I sensed that he almost came then
and there.
The two of us remained poised for action, Steve hoping I would
restrain my tongue for a moment while he recovered control of his roiling
balls, me still reluctant to procure a flood of semen upon my face. His
dick wasn't really far enough down for me to take much of it in my mouth,
so swallowing whatever he might fire at me was out of the question. Just
catching it in my open mouth would be difficult.
Melinda gave Steve a little swat on the bottom to hurry him along.
His prong descended once more, but this time I let it come to me. I closed
my lips, hoping Melinda wouldn't swat me for doing so. I couldn't really
see her with Steve leaning out as far as he was.
Steve's pee hole touched my lips. I let the crown of his penis force
itself between my lips; not keeping him out, but not opening up for him
either. If he wanted in, he would have to push his way through my lips. I
kept my teeth slightly parted.
Slowly the head of his dick pushed my jaws wider. I felt it sliding
over my lips, a long snake gliding into its favorite den. Then the flange
slipped over my lips, and the entire head was inside. A nasty vision of
myself biting off the head of his penis presented itself. I dismissed it.
Steve pushed in a little further, and then I extended my tongue up along
the underside of his shaft and began licking. I laved the underside, then
curled my tongue upward along the barrel of his shaft to wet first its
right side and then its left. Steve began working his hips.
Suddenly I felt a fingertip at my clitoris. I began to suck,
vigorously, as the tip of a female finger lightly brushed back and forth
across the magic spot between my legs.
"Aughggh!" Steve cried, and suddenly my eyes nearly popped out of my
head. A fierce gush of semen suddenly shot against the back of my throat.
I began swallowing as best I could. Steve, who I don't think was actually
supposed to have come, began receiving smacks on his bottom from
Melinda, who, it turned out, had left of playing at my clitoris to punish
Steve.
Melinda's spanking, of course, came to late to do anything but
heighten Steve's pleasure as he flooded my mouth. Semen bubbled up over
the corners of my mouth and ran down my cheeks. The men whooped and
the girls giggled.
Steve reached down with one hand and squeezed his dick to empty
the final drops of his come into my mouth. As if I needed any more. Then
he stood, and Melinda gave him a final swat. He turned about, his bottom
bright pink. He walked over to a plush loveseat and collapsed upon it with
a satisfied groan. I wished I shared his relief.
Each man took me in turn, and Melinda made each promise not to
come. Many broke their word. The second man actually knelt upon the
table right next to my head. Barely more than his knees could fit upon the
table. One girl took each of his ankles and held them aloft to keep him
from falling backward off his perch. He stuck his penis pretty far down
into me, making me gag several times as I endeavored to accept it. It was
strange taking a dick sideways. I was more eager now, though, perhaps
because Melinda had favored my spot while I was sucking Steve. This
time, to help me when I seemed about to gag, she would lightly run her
finger over my clitoris. Otherwise, however, she left it alone...to my
clitty's chagrin.
AOL BANS FLOGMASTER
an308559@anon.penet.fi writes, ŅHi, Roller! This is Frank (the
Flogmaster), formerly known as FM99999@AOL.COM. I don't know if you
heard the news, but AOL yanked my account. It seems they didn't like
something on my web site. Said I violated their "standards." There was no
warning and no appeal, and they won't let me back on ever.
ŅThe Flogmaster's erotic literature is now archived at
<server@hermes.acm.rpi.edu>. For details on receiving these files, send
HELP as the only text in the _body_ of your message. To receive a listing
of FM's available literature in the archive, send
LIST spanking/fm
(in the _body_ of your message) to the server.Ó
ROLLER WINS AWARD
by Jim Corrigan
I am pleased to report that the author of this continuing series has
at last been recognized. He has won the WorldÕs Greatest Masturbator
award. I decided to interview him for The New Yorker but, since they
rejected my story idea, I decided to interview him for The Miami Herald
but, since they rejected my story idea, I decided to interview him for The
Hobo Quarterly but, (well, eventually I got to the bottom of the list so...)
jc: I realize interest in this story is somewhat limited, so let me ask,
quickly, how do you feel about winning the WorldÕs Greatest Masturbator
Award?
ar: I knew IÕd amount to something someday.
jc: You must have put in hours of effort...
ar: Yes, it took lots of practise. I practised day and night. And it took not
only time, it took lots of money too! I had to make a substantial
investment in girlie magazines. You wouldnÕt imagine how many cans I had
to collect.
jc: Focus, dedication, the willingness to put aside all other matters...
ar: Yes! This is the mark of a champion! While other boys were whiling
away their lives on dates or baseball, I was home in my bedroom, busily
masturbating.
jc: What would you like to see as the future of your chosen, uh, sport?
ar: IÕd like to see it made an Olympic event. To be an excellent
masturbator, you need hand and eye coordination. You also have to learn to
control your drooling. ItÕs not easy to flip those Penthouse pages with one
hand, rub with the other, and keep from drooling and shooting all over the
place. Plus, when you get really excited, there is the diarrhea factor.
Also, the ears must be kept constantly alert. At any moment your mom
might walk into your bedroom, or your pesky little brother! So we have a
multi-combination of hand/eye control, drool control, ear control, dick
control, and anal control. How much more do you need to be declared an
athlete?
jc: Being able to throw a ball might help...
ar: IÕm squeezing my balls! What good would throwing them do?
jc: Well, like I said, IÕd keep this interview short...
ar: And just because you have a short dick doesnÕt mean itÕs easy
controlling it!
jc: Yes, um, thank you. Congratulations on your award.
ar: IÕm hoping to win next year too!
jc: IÕm sure there will be lots of competition.
AND IN THE END...
AMERICAN JUSTICE
ŅPolice brutality, unwarranted shootings and deaths in custody
have risen as crime has fallen.Ó - The Economist, July 13, 1996, pg. 29.
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-END OF 84 EMISSION