Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 24
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Eleven
When the �panty game� had been played out, Tiffany continued with
her presentation. She held up an oxygen mask and cupped it over her nose
and mouth. Her eyes seemed to bulge slightly as she did it, I saw, as if
she were surprised, a captive princess suddenly gagged. Next she put on a
life vest. She pinched the little tube sticking out of the vest with her
fingers. Then she pretended to inflate the vest. With a loving tongue she
licked the tube, then put her lips to it and blew, letting her cheeks puff up.
The audience clapped with appreciation when she announced that her
presentation was over.
The girls then each made sure each passenger was strapped into his
seat. Bending over, each female presented an admirable rear view to the
men across the aisle. After strapping in each man the stew gently
unzipped him, first asking permission, of course, and drew forth his cock
with questing hands. I heard Tiffany explain the reason: �Your penis will
need lots of oxygen during takeoff. The blood gets redistributed in your
body as the airplane lifts off, and its most healthy for your cock if it is
erect and free of any restraint. Of course,� she continued with wide-eyed
innocence, �on ordinary flights laws and such won�t allow this, but here
the health of our passengers is our foremost concern, and there aren�t any
children present that might cause it to be a problem. Please make sure
your penis is fully erect during takeoff, sir, and ask a stewardess for
assistance if you need it.� She gave her charge a few quick strokes to
make sure he was properly presenting himself, then kissed the tip for him
and told him to be a good boy. The man seemed about to lose himself with
excitement. �Sir, discharging is not allowed in the passenger lounge,�
Tiffany said, using Elizabeth airline�s terminology for first class,
sometimes called the �first class passenger lounge.� �Please hold
yourself in until the play portion of our flight, when you will be
encouraged to discharge as many times as you can. O.K.?� Her voice was
lilting, musical. The man nodded his head vigorously, his body trembling
slightly.
A stewardess ran past Tiffany toward my hideout in the flight
kitchen. She appeared flustered.
�What�s the matter?� Tiffany asked, her voice louder than the two of
them would have needed if they were conversing alone. Obviously, this
was meant to be heard.
�Oh, the man in 5B has had an accident,� Beverly replied. �Where do
we keep the vomit bags?�
�Sperm bags, you mean,� Tiffany said. �Oh, yes. I�d almost
forgotten. Men, we�re going to give each of you a little sperm bag. If you
feel you absolutely must shoot, please hold the bag over your cock.� She
took a bag from Beverly as the woman emerged from the flight kitchen
with a handful of them. A little plastic pouch, Tiffany opened it and held
it over the cockhead of the nearest man. She asked him politely if he
understood what he must do if he felt the need to cum. He nodded, as if he
were a schoolboy learning from Teacher some difficult new subject.
�That�s good!� Tiffany congratulated the boy/man, and let him have
the bag. She gave the stem of his cock a little pinch by way of farewell
and told him she new she could count on him to save himself for recess.
Like a gaggle of schoolgirls the stews then retreated to the flight
kitchen. While the plane trundled out toward the runway they merrily
compared mental notes about the different men�s cocks. I listened with
fascination as the girls gossiped about which man they liked best, and
which organ.
The pilot announced that the airplane was ready for takeoff. With
calm efficiency Tiffany and Beverly emerged from the flight kitchen and
swept down the aisles. They touched each man�s cock to make sure it was
sticking up as it should be. Meanwhile, the other girls began buckling
themselves into the bulkhead. It turned out that they were to remain
standing during takeoff, but with their arms tied off above them and their
legs spread, their calves overlapping and their ankles secured with straps.
I watched with amazement as Tiffany, returning to the front of the plane,
hurried the girls into position. Like soldiers the girls lined themselves up
across the length of the bulkhead. Tiffany buckled each one into her
restraints if a friend hadn�t done so already. Then Tiffany and Beverly
each broke open a collapsible seat by the bulkhead and sat down and put on
a seatbelt. I myself found a collapsible seat in the flight kitchen and sat
in that. With a roar the plane lifted off and a moment later we were
skyborne, to what heights of depravity I could only guess.
The flight soon took on a humdrum air, as the plane slowly gained
altitude. When the �Fasten Seat Belts� sign went off Tiffany and Beverly
freed the other girls and they began bustling about the planes, checking
each passenger and asking what he wished for in the way of snacks and
drinks. I noticed that despite the intimate friendships that were
developing between the girls and their passengers there was no touching
of the females, no groping. This was another rule of Elizabeth�s, and I
heard there was a bouncer in the cockpit to enforce it if need be, an ex
boxing champion. But no rules were violated, and so the girls were able to
serve their passengers with happy abandon, keeping each man�s cock up if
it started to sag and answering any questions they might have about the
girl�s measurements, or her favorite foods and the like. Sex, however,
was not discussed. Another of Elizabeth�s little rules to keep up a sense
of sophisticated decorum, even on a flight that looked like it was hauling
a crop of freshly grown toadstools. With a delighted look in her eye
Tiffany advised each man that he could put his penis away if he wished,
now that the plane had taken off. If, for his enjoyment or out of simple
need he had to keep it exposed, he was permitted to, the only rule being
that it must be fully erect at all times, so as not to look unmanly.
In the kitchen I soon became busy helping two other girls prepare
snack trays for the passengers. It was so enjoyable working with them,
being a real stewardess, that I almost forgot about my bare behind! Only
when the girls went out to serve the trays, leaving me behind, did I think
about it. But I reassured myself, telling myself I was new and they�d let
me have an easy flight. Then, not dead like a cat, I�d head off for some
new experience in life, with the feather neatly placed in my cap, available
to impress any girl with, that I�d flown as a stewardess on �Dungeon
Airlines.�
Am I a �lifest�? Someone who embraces life? I didn�t think so,
actually. I always saw myself as quiet, reserved. And indeed Elizabeth
had called me her �little nun.� So, sure that I was still my same old
conservative self, I played with the little plastic swords in the flight
kitchen while the girls took care of our guests. I arranged the little
swords by color, looked at myself in a mirror holding one, and finally set
about spearing olives with them.
The trays were collected at last and returned to the kitchen, where I
and two other girls set about dumping the leftovers into a trash bin. It
was the first truly unpleasant thing I�d had to do, looking at that half-
eaten food, but my companions had bright spirits and I decided to think
like they did. It seemed odd, I reflected to myself, that being bare-
bottomed on a flight full of men presenting their penises was less
objectionable to me than scraping trays. �You are a silly girl,� I scolded
myself. �Just a spoiled mall rat from Rio. I can just see you explaining
this to your children when they have to clean their plates. �Well, girls,�
you�ll say. �You can either help me wash up the dishes or you can run
around the house with bare bottoms.� And then I shivered. For I knew
every little girl delighted at least once in her life in racing around the
house naked, chased by Poppa or brother and perhaps even spanked soundly
when she was caught. Or even running out of her bedroom naked in front of
guests, that was even more of a delightful dare, I thought to myself, and
how I�d let a friend goad me into doing it when I was four. Mommie had
been so surprised. She was having a quiet dinner, my friend and I
supposedly tucked away for the night, when all of a sudden I bolted out of
my bedroom. I squealed and laughed and jiggled myself crazily, my little
bottom doing a wiggly dance as I streaked around the table. Mommie had
to run me down to get hold of me, finally catching me in my bedroom, by
my pile of teddie bears. She picked me up and sat down on my bed and put
me over her knee and lifted her hand to whack my fanny. I was scared but
somewhere inside I was trembling with anticipation, I realized. I knew
the guests would hear me bawl and I could keep their attention for half an
hour, maybe, I thought. They�d say, �My, she�s a little dickens.� And
Mommie would say, �Yes, she�s a handful alright.� But instead my mommie
lowered her hand, softly, on my heinie. Then she bent over and kissed me
on each upturned cheek.
�You�ve had your fun. Now I want you to go to bed, okay?� she said to
me. I looked up at her, my eyes wide.
�Okay, mommie,� I replied. And so I slipped into bed with my friend.
We actually went to sleep then, instead of staying up all night like we�d
planned and bothering the guests. Later when I got up to go to the
bathroom I thought I heard mommie crying. There was a cracking sound in
the distance. I slipped out of my bedroom and went upstairs. I knocked on
mommie�s bedroom door. A lady answered, her hair wreathing her face.
She had lovely long hair and she was very pretty. I saw that she had
wrapped a towel around her, but it didn�t look like she�d just stepped out
of a bathtub or anything. And she was wearing stockings, black fishnet
stockings, with high heels. On her forearms she wore matching fishnet
gloves, tied just above the elbows with little black bows. Otherwise she
seemed to have nothing on, except for the towel, which she was still
trying to tuck into place.
I told the lady I wanted my mommie. She stroked my hair and said
mommie was busy, that she would be my mommie for awhile if I wanted. I
said no, but she offered to read me a story and said mommie had specially
asked her to see that I got some ice cream if I wanted it, for being so good
earlier and going to sleep like I was supposed to. Of course I immediately
agreed that this must be done, this having of ice cream, especially as
mommie was always limiting how much I could have. Mommie always said
if I had too much my teeth would all fall out and I�d grow up to be fat. But
tonight I could have a special treat for being good. So I trooped
downstairs, holding my newfound mistress firmly by the hand, and had
almost as much ice cream as I pleased, while she gazed at me softly and
happily and told me how much she wanted a daughter just like me.
Out in the cabin Tiffany was being asked about dessert.
�Elizabeth wants you all to have a healthful dessert,� Tiffany
replied.
�What?� a man asked.
�Cucumbers,� Tiffany said. �I realize you might not like cucumbers
ordinarily, but Elizabeth assured me that they taste very good with pussy
juice on them. Would you like to try some?� An amazed cheer of approval
erupted from the passengers. Tiffany said that she would have to rub
herself, and it might be a little obscene, and would anyone object to it?
Nobody did. Lifting the hem of her jacket just a little, not enough to allow
a clear view of her pussy, Tiffany cupped her pubis with her hand, then let
the jacket drape back down over it. Moistening her upper lip with her
tongue, as if to inspire the lips below, she began to massage herself. The
other stewardesses joined in, each titillating herself with her fingers
while discreetly keeping her pussy from being displayed. I watched with
awestruck eyes as each girl, still in her smart flight jacket, still the
perfect picture of efficiency, rubbed herself toward orgasm. Each of them
began emitting little moans, and it was all I could do to contain myself, to
keep from rubbing myself along with them. Not a few of the sperm bags
had to be put to use, the men jetting into them with abandon while others
frantically tried to hang on to their own loads. I realized that it was
Elizabeth at work again, settling the men down, taking off their edge, to
keep them under control.
When each girl felt she was wet enough she took a cucumber from a
tray on one of the little flight carts. They�d been rolled out under the
covers of gleaming silver lidded serving trays, as if what was underneath
was chocolate pie or some other ordinary dessert. Each female inserted
the cucumber into herself, holding her cunt lips open but trying her best
not to expose them to the passenger�s prying eyes. Then she would move
the cucumber up and down a few times within herself to properly wet it,
and then slowly remove it. When the end finally popped out she delivered
it to the closest passenger, who promptly chomped into it. Even the two
female passengers joined in the game, each delicately taking a bite out of
the cucumber when a stewardess presented it to her.
Next it was time for a movie, Tiffany announced to the passengers.
She went up to the bulkhead and, standing on her tiptoes, her hindcheeks
peeking out from underneath her jacket, she reached up and pulled down a
little movie screen. Then a movie was shown, about how to properly wear
a condom. Cartoon figures demonstrated how the condom was worn,
slipping it on each other and engaging in various sex acts with it it place.
A man did a woman and a man did a man, while happy music chirped away
in the background.
After this Tiffany stepped into the flight kitchen. I�d heard her
announce something about the �entertainment.�
�Are you ready?� she asked.
�I guess so,� I replied, suddenly breathless.
�Just walk to the back of first class and open the doors to �coach�,�
she said, using the euphemism for the airborne dungeon area.
�Okay,� I said.
�I�ll be unzipping up front while you do,� she added.
I gulped. After a final check in the kitchen�s full-length mirror, I
stepped out. I began walking down the aisle. Behind me, Tiffany stepped
out of the flight kitchen. With a flourish, saying that it was time for the
�festivities,� she unzipped the front of her jacket and her beautiful boobs
spilled out. I stole a glance over my shoulder and saw that all eyes were
fixed on her. She brandished her bosoms as if they were ornaments rather
than part of her body. They were for the passengers� enjoyment, she said,
and in due time they could pluck at and suckle and perhaps even bite them,
if they promised to do it gently. The other flight attendants, following
Tiffany�s lead, bravely bared their own sumptuous globes, their nipples
invitingly sprouting. I half wondered if they weren�t a flight hazard. A
passenger might get poked in the eye with all those lovely pairs of nipples
sticking out, especially if there was turbulence.
Reaching the double doors that separated �coach� from first class, I
took hold of their handles. They were brass, highly polished, set on doors
of cherry wood. I was just pushing them open when Tiffany pointed me out
to the passengers. They turned, seeing me really for the first time, thanks
to the fact they�d all been distracted by her, and because all the seats
faced forward. Blushingly I pushed the dungeon�s doors wide open as
everyone�s eyes fixed on my bare ass. Mine was the first for them to
really get a good look at, and they admired it as lustily as I imagined
mom�s guests had admired me when I�d run around her dinner table naked.
I had a rather wide stance, thanks to some idiot leaving a snack tray on
the floor where I was supposed to stand. Glancing back at the passengers
I smiled at them, meekly, my long legs in a bold vee and my ass sticking
out unashamedly like twin white creampuffs.
INTERVIEW WITH THE MORTICIAN
by holy joe
Holy Joe: Why are you running for president?
Bob Dole: Well, I need someplace to retire. I figure, with 94 servants in
the White House, there will be plenty of people to help me get dressed,
eat, and go to the bathroom.
hj: Why do you dislike Pat Buchanan?
bd: Because he has something to say and I don�t. All I can say is, �I got
wounded in World War 1, Vote for me!�
hj: Oh, I thought it was the Civil War.
bd: No, that was Bob Novak.
hj: Do you think Al Hunt will vote for you?
bd: Al Hunt is a liberal twit who needs a haircut. Why are you asking me
about him?
hj: Because I think he�s a liberal twit who needs a haircut, and I was
hoping you might say that for me.
bd: Well, I did. Vote for me or I�ll sic the Christian Coalition on you.
hj: How many members of the Christian Coalition are you going to put into
your administration?
bd: Most all of them, especially with Pat Buchanan breathing up my ass.
But don�t tell anybody that. Your next Attorney General is going to be Cal
Thomas. Actually, it will be his wife, so that the liberal yuppie press
goes, �Yeah! What a strong, assertive woman!� when she kills little girls
who are worshipping God in an unapproved manner.
hj: So you�re essentially going to be a �Trojan Horse� for the Christian
Coalition?
bd: That�s right. I have nothing to say, and nothing to offer, except that
various devious elements in our society can cart me out in front of them
and say, �Vote for him--he was wounded in World War 1.�
hj: Well, thank you Bob, I mean, Mr. President. I appreciate you giving me
this interview.
bd: So what newspaper do you represent, anyway?
hj: We don�t publish on paper. We save trees by publishing in cyberspace.
In fact, we recently published a poem about you. It goes,
Bob Dole has a pole,
And a big butthole,
And he has a goal,
(Not to be droll)
He wants to be your President,
A public housing resident,
Four years of welfare at the least!
While Ralph Reed serves as our High Priest.
And when we�ve all been caught and jailed,
And Cyberspace itself has failed,
Being just commercial crap,
Buy this, buy that, and mindless pap
That�s �safe� for children, worthless mush,
Not worth wiping on my tush,
Then he�ll expire and leave behind
A legacy of unfree minds.
bd: What?! You mean you published an indecent poem about me on the
Internet?!
hj: Well, you know, we couldn�t resist.
bd: Well, here�s a poem for you, newsboy:
Two years in prison!
And a fine--you�ll see
That indeed is my legacy!
American Auschwitz, that�s for me,
and Censorship from sea to sea!
hj: Hmmm, what a poem...and I see it didn�t violate the CDA, either.
bd: That�s the good thing about the CDA. It only bans what you say, not
what I say.
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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