Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 237
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Cunt Castle
Chapter One
I found myself in a large storeroom at the base of the stairs. A flour
sack had split open and lay with its contents upon the floor. Nearby a
naked man stood. He looked like a gardener. He held a cap with a feather
in it over his genitals. There was a little flour on him. Rose laughed,
seeing this male specimen standing buck naked amidst the soup cans and
preserved fruit and dried meat, the rows of boxed foodstuffs and the sacks
of potatoes.
�Is the maid preparing you for dinner?� Rose asked. The man replied
in Spanish. I could not understand him. I guessed he was the paramour of
the girl upstairs who was now inexpertly trying to flog herself. Rose
passed on, we followed. Polly turned to peek at the man�s butt as we
passed.
�He has cute buns,� she confided to me. She sounded like she�d not
said such a compliment before, as if she were trying it out for the first
time.
�Don�t try to be naughty, Polly,� I said to her. �You�re naughty
enough as it is, just being yourself.�
�No I�m not,� she pouted. �I just wanted to see, that�s all.�
�You just want someone to stick his big thing up you,� I teased.
�No I don�t!� she insisted. We might have continued this banter, but
Rose guided us outside into the darkness and chilliness. The midnight sky
opened up overhead. Except for a light on what I guessed was gardener�s
shed, we stood in moonlight and starlight only. I looked up, Polly did too.
Our earthly thoughts were forgotten.
�Ooooh, I see the big dipper!� Polly said, pointing.
�That�s the Southern Cross,� I replied. Or was it Orion? There were
so many stars.
�Bend over, you two, I�ve got to wash your bottoms,� Rose announced
from behind us. How did she get back there? I heard a splashing sound. I
turned and saw she�d got hold of a hose. There was a gurgling as the hose
filled itself to full force. Rose lifted the hose. Polly and I stood
wonderingly a moment. Then, grabbing her hand, I bent low and took her
with me. I fixed my gaze on the shed with the light on it down in the
mellowing fields. Summer was upon them, the cool night sky of summer
consoling them after a long day�s heat.
�EEEEEeeeek!� came wailing into my ears, and I thought it was Polly
for a moment, then realized it was the girl upstairs. I heard a gruff voice.
Was it the man we�d seen in the storeroom? There was a sound like the
wind, though far off, as if blowing from the upstairs window, and the girl
screamed again. I heard a distinctive crack of palmstem, singing as it met
with fulsome bottomflesh. How could there be a window upstairs, I
wondered? I�d seen none. Perhaps it had been covered over, to allow us
privacy. Obviously the young maid�s suitor now wished to let in the night
air. If her cries at being punished entertained his fellows out in the shed
or the huts of the field hands, so be it. They would no doubt congratulate
him for his exertions, I guessed.
�Yeeeek!� Polly shouted next to me, right in my ear. My cry joined
hers as I felt the ice-cold hose water whoosh upon my bottom.
�Hold still, girls, we haven�t time for a bath,� Rose admonished us
both as we leapt up. I looked back at her a moment, then decided I wished
to have Andre�s seed washed out of me however I might. It felt like the
Antarctic was going up my bottom, but no matter. I took Polly round her
waist and made sure she suffered with me. After all, it was her
boyfriend�s spunk that had been pumped into me. We both bent over again,
and Rose applied the hose to our backsides. Polly hooted in dismay, even
as the girl upstairs yelled anew at the ass-searing cane. She was too hot
on her derriere, we were too cold. There seemed to be no happy medium
here. Our cries mingled, each of us wishing we could trade places.
Rose gave me the hose a moment later and bent over. She directed
me to clean off her bottom, just as she�d done to me. I took the hose and,
with a gleam of revenge in my eyes, happily made her scream as I doused
her with the water. It was the temperature of an ice berg. Polly stood
shivering nearby, watching, holding herself. The screams of the girl
upstairs subsided into sobs. Soon I heard her moaning, and a cry of
�deeper!� wafted down, mingled with the urgent grunts of her boyfriend.
She would need the hose next, I surmised.
�Come, we must dress. There is really no time!� Rose said. She
stood erect again and took my hand, casting aside the hose. She did not
bother to turn it off. We hurried back inside. I felt grateful for the
warmth of the storeroom as we passed back into it. We did not go back
upstairs. Instead Rose led us into a laundry room. There I saw clothes
neatly folded in piles, as well as more waiting to be washed. I imagined
the old maid worked down here, laundering clothes, seeing and smelling
everyone�s residue after they�d fucked. The discarded panties, the torn
bras, the sheets with their distinctive, tell-tale wet spot.
�Ah, the satin sheets. These were on the bed where Lord Astor
entertained his new lady friend last night. What was her name? Miss
Elginvale, yes. Runs the local children�s charity in town. Always on T.V. I
like her jewels,� the washerwoman would murmur to herself. She would
know all the gossip, intimately, just by sniffing the sheets.
Rose rummaged through the pile of clean laundry. She found two pair
of cutoff shorts and handed them to us. We took them, still dripping wet.
�Oh yes, a towel!� she declared. She got towels for each of us, finding
them in the stack of clean laundry, then pulled t-shirts out for us too, and
scarfs to tie around our necks, that we might not be too plain.
�Oh, I have to get these stockings off!� Rose said of herself. She
yanked down her hose. �Take off your heels if you like, and I�ll give you
tennies,� she added.
A few minutes later we emerged from the laundry room. We were
ready to go out on the town. At short notice, I thought we looked pretty
good. There�d been no time for bras or panties. I wore a simple pair of
cutoff shorts, cut too high in the back, I thought, where my bottomcheeks
hung out a little. They were frayed and there was no belt for them, but
they did the job of covering my most important parts, except for the little
hole over my bottomcheek, the right one, giving a sneak preview to people
that I wished they might not have.
For my top, I wore a tee-shirt with short, rolled sleeves turned up to
my slim shoulders, with the midriff knotted off to show my tummy. A
scarf was knotted round my neck, making me look like a cowgirl. I wore
old but clean tennis shoes. Rose gave me a cowboy hat to make me feel
special.
Polly wore cutoffs like mine. Her bottomcheeks peeked out the
bottom of her shorts, jiggling as she walked ahead of me. Her shorts were
already wedged in her ass. She wore no panties. She seemed not to mind.
I think she liked the feeling of her shorts pressing tightly to her. She�d
not been fucked. Perhaps she hoped the shorts would allay her desire a
little. She�d not been as fortunate as I in the matter of a shirt. Hers was
simply cut off at the midriff-point. There was too little of it to tie. And
her shirt was sleeveless. You could look within the big armholes cut in
the side of it and see her breasts looming within, the pert undercurves of
her breasts. Distinctly her nipples stood out from her shirt, lifting it.
The material was thin and if it had not been dyed yellow I think I might
have seen right through it. There was a faded beer can imprinted on the
front of her shirt. The bottom of the can was missing, as was the portion
of the shirt on which it had once been imprinted.
Polly tugged worryingly at the hem of her shirt. �I need something
better than this if I�m to go dancing,� she proclaimed. Rose swatted her
jean-clad bottom.
�You have a cute bellybutton, and nice tits,� Rose answered. �Don�t
be so shy, dear. It�s after midnight. There will only be other girls like
there, like you, a little older perhaps, and guys.�
�That�s what I mean!� Polly protested. �Can�t I have your shirt?�
�No, dear, you�re the youngest. You�re the only one who can fit into
that shirt. My boobs are much bigger than yours, and Fleury�s are bigger,
too,� Rose answered her. �Now be good and don�t complain. I did the best I
could for you.�
�Oh, when will I have boobies as big as Flurries�?� Polly whined. Her
face pouted.
�Yours aren�t that much smaller,� I assured her.
�Then let me have YOUR shirt!� Polly begged.
�Just don�t bend too far over,� I laughed. Sulkily she ceased her
complaining, knowing she was stuck with what she had. Rose took us
through the house and out the front. A limo waited. We slipped within and
Rose told the driver to take us into town.
I looked over at Rose as we settled into the car�s back seat. Despite
her hastily-chosen attire, she looked like a million dollars, as usual. Her
hair had been quickly repinned atop her head. She�d touched up her makeup,
using a kit in the laundry room and staring with brief but effective
intensity into a cracked mirror next to the dryer. A peasant blouse bared
her tanned shoulders and absorbed the fullness of her breasts. She wore
no bra beneath it. Her nipples tweaked the light material and lifted it in
tiny twin peaks. The blouse hugged her ribs, leaving her belly bare,
showing how smooth and soft it was, how invitingly it offered itself to
men who dreamed of being fathers.
Riding low on her hips Rose wore a leather miniskirt. She had no
undies underneath. It was all that separated her from the hands of would-
be lovers. She had it tucked beneath her now, it barely cleared her bottom.
Her long thighs shone whitely in the moonlight that bathed the limo�s
cabin. Rose had her window down to let in the night air. Inside, a heater
hummed to keep us warm. Pee wee boots with rowelled spurs fitted
themselves to Rose�s feet. Like us, she wore a scarf, though only Polly
and I had cowboy hats. In compensation, perhaps, Rose wore leather
gloves with beaded Indian designs upon her hands.
Rose lowered a mirror, flicked on a light, and checked her makeup
again. She had a purse with her, unlike Polly and I, and she opened it and
drew out a tube of lipstick. She did her own, then passed it to Polly.
Sitting between us, Polly had discovered a small hairdrier tucked into the
limo and had put it to use on her hair. I kept my hat on. I hoped she�d
finish soon. I did not want to ride around with wet hair, though I was
farthest from Rose�s open window. Rose herself had dried her hair with a
blowdrier in the laundry room, but ushered us out to the car before Polly
and I could make use of it.
Rose passed a hairbrush to Polly. �Comb out your hair, we must look
our very best,� she told the girl. �Then let Flurry do her hair too.�
�Okay,� Polly replied. She was happy now. Absorbed in herself, she
brushed her long locks. Rose passed me her makeup kit and told me there
was a mirror pinned to the ceiling above my head. I drew it down. It hung
by a hinge from the interior roof. I flicked on its light.
�Not too much,� Rose warned me. �I don�t want you to look older
than you are. That would spoil the fun.� I looked at her, saw her smiling,
but decided to heed her advice. Young girls with too much makeup on
didn�t look mature, they just looked silly. I pushed back my cowboy hat.
Carefully I traced my lips with the lipstick. Rose passed me eyeshadow
and I brushed out my lashes. I applied some rogue to my cheeks. Then
Rose managed to part Polly from her blowdrier and I took off my hat and
did my hair.
I heard Country music wafting across the night air. We pulled up in
front of a ramshackle place with the name of Rawlies� Rodeo. Looking out,
I saw was a saloon, built outside of town to evade the finer points of the
law. Bright neon flashed into my eyes. The limo ground to a stop in a
parkinglot made of gravel. Rose had her driver open the car doors for us
and Polly and I, followed by her, tumbled out. I could hear dancing inside.
Rose shouldered her purse and we crossed the parking lot together,
holding hands. We passed up a small flight of steps. They creaked under
my feet, as if the whole set of them might collapse because three
lightweight women had chosen to trod upon them. We were met by a huge
bouncer. He glowered down at us. Our well-curved bodies, our skimpy
clothes, impressed him not in the least. �Gay,� I thought to myself, and
realized a boy in swim trunks would have been his preferred date for the
night.
Rose, her confidence undiminished, smiled at him. �Hi Bubba, we�re
here for the show,� she said quietly.
�Oh!� The bouncer�s eyes bulged from his fat face. His stomach
trembled. �You must be--�
�Yes,� Rose answered, keeping her voice low.
�Come right in,� the bouncer said quickly. He turned as a dog might,
eager to please a master, his huge butt rolling with hasty gracelessness. I
saw his jeans were too low on his hips to cover him properly. The top of
his buttcrack showed. Polly turned up her nose in disgust, seeing it. I did
too.
We were ushered inside. A cacophony of celebrating people, dancing
and drinking and swearing, greeted my ears. The place was packed. We
could barely fit in amongst them. Smoke from cigarettes and cigars laced
the air. Loud music, accompanied by flashing colored lights, competed
with the steady white light flowing out from behind the counters where
drinks were served. I saw a sign announcing beer for $5.00 a glass. The
band seemed terrible, I could not see them but I could hear a rasping
hillbilly voice somewhere in the distance, obviously live. No one would
record crap like that. It sounded even worse than Ministry. Yoko Ono
would have taken this place by storm.
�Booss,� the fat man bellowed. �The strippers are here!� At first
his words did not register. Then I felt people turning, pulling back from
me, seeing me with new eyes. A round of applause erupted. Rose strove to
maintain her composure. She pushed myself and Polly forward, following
quickly behind us.
ftp UPDATE!
I have completely refurbished all five of my ftp sites (listed below).
The stories are viewable through a browser or through the regular ftp
protocol. (Remember, when viewing through a browser, to replace http://
with ftp://
I have complete confidence that there are no viruses in any of my
stories. (Nor have there ever been any allegations of viruses.)
DAVID�S SLINGSHOT
I have been spammed, and re-spammed, and re-re spammed. I have
been list �served.� All this has been done to me by people who claim to be
�Christians.�
Having a direct line to God through prayer, I asked him about these
�Christians.� He told me they were not his people. He gave me his
blessing to love them. But he said it must be �tough love� (Always a
favorite with �Christians�), for he was greatly displeased by their
actions.
�Woe unto them, who act not in my name, and for purposes contrary
to my ways,� God said. �For have I not blessed America with a
Constitution, and is not the premier Amendment within that Constitution
the First Amendment?� And the Lord was very wroth with such people as
would act in his name, but contrary to the First Amendment. So he said
unto me, �Giveth them that act against words, yet more words. Write
these words down:�
And the Lord told unto me very great and powerful words, that I
might give tough love unto them that call themselves �Christians,� but are
not. And hereunto listed below are the words which the Lord himself
authorized me to use against those who put mere words above his
unconditional love:
(Please use these words for subject headings in your own messages,
as needed. God is not claiming any copyright upon them.)
WHY JESUS IS AN IDIOT
THAT SMELL IS JESUS CHRIST
STINKY CHRISTIANS
I LOVE SATAN!
DIE FOR SATAN
CHRISTIANS: JACKASSES OR ASSES?
GOD IS A TURD
MARY WASN�T A VIRGIN
TURDS, SHIT, AND CHRISTIANS (no difference)
JESUS WAS A FAG (ever hear of John?)
I PEED ON CHRIST
MARY THE FAIRY (NOT a virgin!)
JESUS ATE DOO DOO in the Wilderness!
I HAD SEX WITH GOD! (a woman!)
GOD LOVES CHILD MOLESTERS
AND IN THE END...
TAKE NOTE, CENSORS
�If you sit on the lid of progress, you will be blown to pieces.�
- Henry Kaiser (The Economist, March 29, 1997, survey pg. 19.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (cunt2)
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller6666
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd666 NudieNursery5 here!
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd66
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd6
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
-Fuck Decency: http://members.aol.com/nnd6/fuckdecency.html
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 237 EMISSION
- BUTTHEAD IS GOD!