EXCUSE ME, I�M PASSING GAS
How often does someone have the courtesy to say those words to
you? Once a day? Twice? Or do they just let you *smell*, and wonder?
Do you find yourself looking around, wondering who cut that fart? I do.
Which is why I want to set a new standard of courtesy on the Net.
Even though you can�t smell me, I still feel an obligation to tell you that
I�ve passed gas. It�s just common decency, really. And it�s important that
we set an example for our children, so they can learn and practise proper
manners.
You might be sitting at home, clicking away on your new Web T.V.,
and suddenly a big message comes on:
EXCUSE ME, I�M PASSING GAS
Yep, that�s me. Setting an example. For all of us. Please tell your
children that they should tell everyone when they�ve passed gas, just like
I do. I may need a shave, and I may need new clothes, and I may bathe in
public school restrooms, but at least I know my manners.
Tell your children it�s wrong to just cut a fart. Be loving but firm.
It�s not the fart that�s bad (Uncle Ed would welcome it.) It�s the silence.
Inform your friends and, if there�s an authority present, tell her too. Don�t
be disruptive. Simply raise your hand and announce, �Teacher, I�m passing
gas.�
Parents, band together with other adults to reinforce your
expectation. Be loving but firm. Gas is a natural part of life. We all
suffer from it. A few simple words help alleviate everyone�s feelings.
Your children may complain now about announcing when they�ve passed
gas. But when they grow up they�ll thank you for teaching them properly.
And you�ll thank yourself for raising such gas-conscious children.
*~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~
December 22-28 NATIONAL GAS AWARENESS WEEK
�Don�t Just Open Your Anus. Open Your Mouth too.�
*~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~~~~~ *~
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 157
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Amsterdam Damsels
Chapter Two
I gave Ted the gravy, not bothering to pour it for him. I rushed back
to the kitchen to make sure I�d not left the stuffing on. It would burn and
dry out. I hadn�t. I breathed a sigh of relief. I brought it out to Ted and
let him serve himself. I returned to the kitchen for cranberries. On my
way out I grabbed a bottle of red wine for myself and Sheryl. Self-
consciously I returned to them, my bosoms preceeding me and announcing
themselves with a tempting bounce at every step I took in my black pumps.
I put the cranberries on the table and then let Sheryl open the wine with a
corkscrew. She returned it to me. I filled her glass and then filled a glass
intended for me. Beside it, on a plate, Sheryl had served my food. She was
cutting it small, as if for an infant.
I eyed my food. Despite my fear at being whipped I was hungry. If I
was less experienced I couldn�t have eaten at all, knowing I�d be whipped,
but I�d felt the lash enough now that it no longer quelled my appetite. I
was growing up, a little.
�I need a chair,� I said.
�You do not,� Sheryl replied. �Kneel down. I will feed you.�
�I don�t want--� I began, but she grabbed my already lowered bodice
and used it to yank me down to my knees. My breasts wobbled above her
gripping fist, supported by her knuckles. They felt like Skeletor bones
pressing up into the soft underside of my breasts where they met my
torso. I wished for He-Man to rescue me, looked across the table at Ted,
lifting myself up a little to do it. He saw my peering eyes.
�Do as she says,� he told me, stuffing turkey in his mouth. I settled
on my knees. I placed my palms upon the floor and waited, dog-like, to be
fed. With her fingers Sheryl lifted a portion of meat from my plate and
dipped it in gravy. Then, the gravy dripping, she set it down again.
�You need a bib,� Shery said to me. �Go to the kitchen and get a bib
out of the drawer on the right, next to the refrigerator.�
I rose up. I turned. Feeling more self-conscious than ever, I reached
behind myself to straighten my panties.
�No, Melody,� Sheryl scolded me. �Just do as I tell you. Leave
whatever I�ve exposed just as it is.�
�But--� I began. She had not exposed my bottom! My seat had
slipped into my crack and left my cheeks hanging out naturally. Then I
remembered Ted�s pulling down my panties in back. To spite her, or
perhaps to obey, or both, I pulled my undies down in back. I let my bottom
show, even the crack, and I gave it a big wiggle to let her know I knew
where her husband�s eyes were fixed at this moment! Then I took hold of
the halves of my pumpkin and leaned forward, feeling my breasts drop
down beneath me, and I pulled open my bottom and showed them all I could.
�Excuse me, I have to fart,� I said politely. Knowing Ted was looking
at my little butthole, not his beautiful wife, I wiggled my tushy and
pretended to let one. Then I stood straight and walked with cultured steps
to the kitchen, tossing my blonde hair, letting my hands flit daintily
beside me, my fingers bent up to show off the polish on my pretty nails.
But I left my panties pulled down, just as she (perhaps) wanted them. I
felt the cool air of the room on my bottom and knew, wetting the crotch
that still lay snug against my cunt, that I would get extra strokes of the
whip for being so wanton.
I selected a baby�s Tweety Bird bib from the drawer and returned
with it. I gave it to Sheryl with a diffident air. She ordered me to my
knees.
Reaching down, her own full bosoms stretching the front of her
dress as she bent, Sheryl tied the bib around my neck.
�I want you to play with yourself as I feed you,� she said quietly to
me. She adjusted the bib. It was soft and fuzzy against my breasts. It
covered them across the top almost completely, leaving my nipples
sticking out underneath the bib�s end. �It is the only enjoyment you will
get, I�m afraid, so put your hand in your panties and rub yourself.�
I did not protest. I was hungry, and for more than just food.
Delicately lifting open the front of my undies, I slipped in my hand. As
Sheryl offered me the first tidbit of meat I stroked my labia. My panties
hugged my finger and made me press it all the more surely against myself.
Lightly I rubbed at first, then more boldly, finding my spot, sinking my
finger within my sex.
�Oh!� I gasped.
�Chew your food completely before you swallow,� Sheryl reminded
me. �I don�t want you choking on it. Your lovely throat would be utterly
ruined by a tracheotomy, eh Ted?�
�Most surely,� Ted grinned. I peeped at him over the table�s edge.
His eyes glowed at me. I longed for him but turned my face back to Sheryl
and accepted another gravy-dipped portion of meat from her.
The meal proceeded. Sheryl and Ted chatted quietly about their work
to each other. She was a corporate secretary. He was a patrolman. I
sensed that she made more money than he did. I sat quietly at Sheryl�s
feet, eating the bits of meat she fed me. Gravy dripped on my bib. I
worried about my nipples. The gravy was hot. They stemmed out from
underneath my bib, inviting trouble.
�And how is your new partner at work, dear?� Sheryl asked Ted.
�I don�t have her anymore,� he replied with a touch of glumness.
�The Chief made her his personal secretary.�
�She is so pretty. I hated to see her out on the line,� Sheryl replied.
�She might get hurt.�
�And you want to whip her!� Ted laughed. �You wish her saved but
not from yourself.�
�Well, I�m glad she�s not riding around with you all day anymore,�
Sheryl said. �You could still invite her over though, couldn�t you?�
�Yes, I suppose I could,� Ted mused. �Of course the Chief would kill
me if he knew I was porking his secretary. Or paddling her.�
�She has such a lovely figure. And her face is angelic!� Sheryl
sighed. She turned to me. �Rather like yours, dear, except you�re just a
little doggie, aren�t you?� she asked. She�d scooped some cranberries into
a little bowl for me and she presented it to me with a baby spoon she�d
been saving beside her plate. I lifted my chin and let her spoon the berries
into my mouth.
�Keep playing with yourself, my little pet,� she warned me, seeing
my hand motions momentarily slacken. �Get those panties off. You�ve no
need to wear them.�
Obeying her somewhat contradictory orders, I accepted a spoonful of
cranberries and then stood up. I peeled my panties off my crotch. Sheryl
noticed their wetness, perhaps from my more honeyed scent, for they were
black. She caught the liberated gusset between two fingers and rubbed it.
�My, you�ve wet them nicely,� she cooed. �Are you excited?�
�Not really,� I lied.
�Get them down your legs and go take them to Ted,� she said. �He
likes saving the panties of girls we�ve whipped.�
I obeyed. With awkward movements of my hands and legs I pulled my
panties all the way down to my feet, standing before Sheryl as she sat
watching me. Then, lifting my panties up and holding them by a single
finger, passed through a leghole, I walked round the table to Ted and
presented them to him.
�My panties, Sir,� I said with delicious abandon. I couldn�t keep my
hips from wiggling once I�d said it, for he took them very graciously off
my finger and stroked them. I loved the sight of his big, calloused hands
so gently examining my panties, as if they were fine jewelry.
�When I whip you, you will scream,� he said, looking into my eyes.
�I know,� I replied.
�Open your mouth. You need a gag,� Ted said.
�But don�t I get dessert?� I asked. There was a sumptuous chocolate
cake in the fridge.
�You are the dessert,� he answered. He lifted a hand to my lips and
pried them apart. Then, with me standing before him looking like I was at
some bizarre dentist�s office, my mouth wide open, my bottom jiggling
behind me, knowing how much it would hurt soon, Ted stuffed my panties
into my mouth.
I tasted myself. I wished I could have his underpants in my mouth
instead of my own.
�Lift your leg up. Put your foot on my knee,� Ted said. I complied.
My legs looked lovely in their long thigh-high stockings. I put a foot, still
encased in its pump, on his leg. �Get up on the table,� he said. He palmed
my bare bottom and boosted me up, letting me use his leg as a step to the
table.
Holding my panties in my mouth, I climbed up onto the table and
knelt on it. I found myself poised with my ass stuck in Ted�s face. I could
feel his breath on my bottom. I humped it at him. He leaned forward and,
cupping my fanny, he kissed each of my nether cheeks.
�Crawl to the center of the table and lie down,� Ted ordered. I
scampered into the middle of the table, skirting the turkey that lay half-
carved there. Sheryl pulled back some serving dishes and I found I could
lie down with the big turkey between my legs.
I spread myself out on the table. My bosoms stuck up like captured
fruit, caught in the opening made by my pulled-down bodice. My nipples
were hard. They looked like cherry stems. I sleeked my hands across my
flat tummy. I let a finger wander down into my small thatch of pubic hair
between my legs. I dipped it within myself. I rubbed my excited spot.
�Mmmf!� I cried within my panty-gag.
�Do you like being the center of attention, Melody?� Sheryl asked me.
I nodded. There was a price to be paid for their attention but I craved it
anyway. I heard Ted unzip himself as he leaned forward and played with
my coiffered blonde curls.
�Such a pretty victim,� Sheryl cooed. My eyes widened as I saw a
knife brought to one of my nipples. Very delicately, for it was the sharp
carving knife, Sheryl spread icing from a little bowl over my exposed
nipple. Then she moved the knife to the other one and carefully decorated
it just like the first. Only the stems of my nipples were iced. The rest
she left bare.
�And now for your clit,� Sheryl said.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I felt a female hand urge my thighs
more widely apart and I tried very hard not to resist. It was difficult, for
as she spread my legs Sheryl spoke of �clitorization.�
�It does settle the girl down, that at least is a virtue of it,� Sheryl
said quietly. �It would cut down on teen promiscuity in our country if we
practised it here, don�t you think, Ted?� she asked. I felt the blade of the
knife touch my nubbin and prayed she would only tease me. Icing smoothed
cool across my little fleshy point.
�Yes, I do wish there was some way to get teens to Just Say No,�
Ted agreed.
�Well, this little one just needs a little cooling off, I think,� Sheryl
said. She lifted the knife away from me. I felt the residue of the icing
deposited on my spot. It was temptingly cool and I darted a finger down,
to check myself, to make sure I was still all there. Catching a drop of
icing on my finger, I lifted it from my spot and put it into my mouth. I
couldn�t taste it, because of the gag, but I smoothed it across my spread
lips. My red lipstick was glazed with a touch of white.
The knife returned to my breast, carrying a new load of icing. Gently
Sheryl passed it under my exposed areoles and then over the tops of my
breasts. I watched with interest as she iced me. Each time I feared the
sharp edge of the knife would cut my tits, but she was careful. When she
was finished I had two cream-white cones sticking up out of my bodice.
Amazingly, none of the icing had gotten on my maid�s uniform.
�Lick her tits,� Sheryl said to Ted.
�You will not be jealous?� Ted asked.
�I am going to ice her cunt and lick that,� Sheryl replied.
Still wearing his starched suit, that he�d put on special for dinner,
Ted rose and leaned over me. Turning my head slightly I saw that he�d
indeed undone his zipper. His penis stuck out of his pants large and heavy,
like the neck of his big gin bottle. He breathed over my face. I smelled
lime. He kissed my gagged, parted lips once and then put his 5 o� clock
shadowed face to my breasts. I felt stubble graze away some of the icing
that covered me. A tongue protruded and caught at one of my whitened
nipples.
�Oh!� I cried. Ted licked my boobs. As he licked, his wife used the
sharp carving knife to ice up my cunt. I felt the blade delve within me and
ice the lips of my labia. I shivered. My hips wiggled.
�Don�t move,� Sheryl said. �You�ll be cut if you do.�
�Mmmf!� I gasped within my gagged mouth. How could I not move
when I had such attention being lavished upon me? Still I tried my best to
quiet my squirmy young hips. I let Sheryl ice my cunny and then, as her
husband continued to lick clean my breasts, suckling them like a babe
(though I wore the bib, turned up to show my tits) she devoured my cunt.
I writhed with passion. The knife had been withdrawn and I lay like
a fish on the table, gasping and squirming. Their tongues assailed me. I
felt myself simultaneously suckled and fucked. Sheryl used her tongue
like a penis. Ted supped at my dessert-like nipples, savoring their youth
and vitality. I was soft in all the right places and hard in the few places a
female must be when she�s ready for sex.
I came quickly. My fingers had brought me close to orgasm but I�d
been embarrassed to go all the way. Now, under Sheryl�s seeking tongue, I
cried out my pleasure and juiced her quietly feeding mouth. Ted smiled
down at me, taking a break from my breasts. He teased my nipples with
his fingers as he watched me cum and cum into his wife�s licking face.
�She is ready for the whip,� Sheryl said at last. Ted gathered me
limply into his arms. I gasped from my still-near orgasm, too weak to
protest.
I was carried into their bedroom. There, at the foot of their master
bed, stood a wooden trestle. It looked like something you might see on the
road to stop traffic. It was made of natural cherry wood and had been
covered with a light coat of varnish. Instead of a sign on top, it had a
padded cushion.
Ted set me down on my feet. He nodded toward the trestle.
Trembling, I approached it. I was a big girl now. I didn�t have to be
dragged, or threatened, or cajoled with false promises. I strode up to it,
feeling my bare bottom behind me, rolling with my steps. I placed my
fingers on the padded top of the trestle. I felt my hips jutting out, my
cunny moist, my bottom tense behind me.
GOLLIWOGG
Copyright 1996 by Alan Freer
NAILS
Sighting rusty nails,
Wogg
remembers Christ�s hands
impaled.
Cowering in shame,
shuffles his humped back
into the safety of shadow.
AND IN THE END...
PROGRESS MARCHES ON!
�[The Virgin] Mary would be a teenage-girl-gang leader today.�
- Time, December 23, 1996, pg. 67.
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