Today, in Honor of American Values, New Immigrant �Holy Guacamole�
Leads Us in Our National Pledge:
�I pledge allegiance,
To the fag,
Of the United States of America.
One Nation,
Under Clod,
With libertine,
And injustice
For all.�
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 240
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Cunt Castle
Chapter One
�Girls, you are going to have a pillow fight,� Rose announced to us,
letting the audience hear too. �I hope, Polly, that for your sake you�re not
a pacifist, or you�ll be taking a little mudbath.� Rose smiled.
�Oh, I want to go home!� Polly cried, but I saw her eyes told a
different story. She realized she�d like nothing better than to knock me
straight into the mud at our feet.
�Fight hard, girls, but no biting or scratching or pulling,� Rose
cautioned us. �Just use your pillows, please. If either of you cheats, I�ll
make sure you pay for it, right here, in front of the audience.� She grinned
and I knew, I think everyone knew, what she meant. Our bottoms would
wish for cool cream to soothe them when she was done correcting any
fouls.
Rose lifted her whistle from its resting place between her boobs.
She put it to her lips. She drew in air, her breasts lofting upwards as her
lungs filled. �Ready, girls?� she asked. And then she blew her whistle as
loud as she could.
WHACK! Before I�d even taken my eyes off Rose, Polly was already
giving me her best shot. It was, in fact, a feeble first effort, her hands
wielding the pillow with much less skill than she�d soon have after a few
more swings. The pillows were awkward. Big and bulky, with a weight
that shifted around because the feathers were loose inside and lightly
packed. I found my first try almost sent my pillow flying from my hands.
I�d held it too easily. I gripped it tighter. I caught my breath. I�d almost
disarmed myself on my first attempt! I tried again. The pillow swung
past Polly, who ducked. This time I almost lurched from my pole, with the
weight of the pillow swinging round at arms length, taking in nothing but
air, pulling with me as a shot put thrower is sometimes pulled by his
metal ball.
Just as I recovered my balance, Polly retaliated with a blow much
more certain than her first. It caught me right in the head, making me
dizzy. I slung my pillow at her again, aiming for her boobs.
OOF! Polly bounced backward as I slammed my pillow right into her
bosom. Her young teats protected her, yet she arched backward, nearly
falling. She steadied herself, then swung at me just as I tried to deliver a
death blow. Our pillows crashed together in mid-air. Rose laughed,
watching us. She�d escaped the mud pit, stood to once side, so that if
either of us fell we would not splash her with muck.
My hair tumbled in single locks from atop my head as I strove to
dismount Polly. My coiffure, so neatly pinned up and curled, was coming
undone. Polly�s pigtails flew about her as if she were trying to catch the
cow as it leapt for the moon. Our breasts bounced around within our
nighties. Our bottoms worked hard to keep us aloft, our cheeks churning
atop the poles, oblivious now to the cream which squished ever deeper
into our buttcracks and cunts.
�For a pair of well-brought-up schoolgirls, they certainly fight like
stray cats,� I heard David said. He had come up upon the stage, stood close
to Rose now, caressing her in front of the audience. She tried not to
notice as he placed a hand beneath her skirt, standing behind her, and felt
up her bottom.
THWAP! THUMP! My pillow whammed into Polly, hers hit me. I
swung again. I was a year older. My aim was more correct, my blows
harder. She fought like a child, all wiggly and full of emotion. I was a
teen, cool despite my imbalances, my precarious hold upon the pole,
gripping it with my thighs. The cream was slippery on my inner thighs,
making my hold all the more difficult. I had to clamp my legs to the pole
as if I were a prostitute milking a client. The squishiness between my
legs made my sex hungry. Polly, striving to unseat me, nonetheless smiled
a little to herself, amidst her exertions, loving the wicked pleasure of a
pole thrust between her legs and slick with cream.
�EEEEeeeekKK!� Polly announced suddenly, and I knew she was going
down. Mightily she fought to stay up, wiggling like a fish in its death
throes, caught on the fishline but still hoping to evade its fate. The mud
loomed like a browning skillet to receive her. �Nooooooo,� she cried, and
then there was a loud SPLOOSH! beneath me as she tumbled straight into
the mud soaked pillows. I cringed. I hoped no mud would splatter me.
Polly, full of dismay, swam about in the mud, trying to stand up. I
looked down at my legs. A little mud had hit them. I flicked it off my
with my fingers. I was triumphant. Except for the cream between my legs
I was as neat and clean as when I�d mounted the stage. I gazed out at the
audience and smiled at them. I lofted my pillow over my head, like a boxer
lifting up his trophy belt. I was the world lightweight champion of the
mudpit and creampole.
�Christians� Get Their Due...
THE FIRST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST
Jesus Christ was about 30-years-old when he noticed the little girl
next door. She�d been babyish at 6, and kind of skinny at 7, he thought, but
at 8 she was really starting to blossom! Often, as he sat inside his mom�s
house jacking off to Judaic Jugs Monthly, he would hear her playing
outside on the sidewalk.
�One, Two, Three, Four, Open the Door!� the girl would scream in her
high, childish voice, as she jumped with quick feet down a hopscotch
diagram drawn with her colored Sesame Street Chalk on the sidewalk.
Jesus realized that a real girl, even a little girl, was better than
jerking off over some other man�s squeeze. Especially some whore like
the girls in Judaic Jugs, who had already fucked entire football teams of
men by the time she was old enough to appear in the magazine. (Jesus
himself was very holy, and a bit homely, and so still a virgin himself,
despite being 30.)
Jesus, in a flash of inspiration, realized that the 8-year-old outside
his house would be as beautiful as the girls in Judaic Jugs by the time she
was 18. Why should he wait until she�d been used by other males? Why
not meet her now, and enjoy her company as a virgin? Who knows? When
she decided to have her cherry popped, she might choose Jesus to do the
job!
Carefully Jesus put away the latest issue of Judaic Jugs. He cleaned
himself up in the bathroom and then, still hard, for he hadn�t cum, he went
outside. He turned on the hose in his mom�s front yard and pretended to
water the plants. But really he was watching the little girl playing on the
sidewalk.
Her name was Polly. She was short, but well-formed. Her breasts
were already budding and she had a bottom that Jesus could only describe
to himself as �heavenly.� Her upper body was thin, but her hips flared out,
and her legs were long and lively. As she danced on her chalk-drawn
hopscotch board, her long hair, drawn back in a pony tail, swished
invitingly across her back.
It was summer and the sun overhead was hot. Polly had
accommodated herself to the heat by wearing a short midriff that left her
belly bare. Jesus could see her dimpled belly button on her small flat
tummy and he felt a sudden desire to kiss it. How he would love to lick
his tongue across the tanned flesh, and explore that little navel hole! He
could almost hear how she�d sigh as he drove his manly tongue into her
virgin navel. And, down below, her virgin slit would be slumbering,
waiting for him to violate her there too.
Jesus realized he�d wasted 30 years of his life pursuing brazen
women and masturbating over their photographs in Judaic Jugs. Here was
a real female! Small, happy, friendly, and still innocent -- not like the
tawdry Judaic Jugs girls.
Jesus ambled down to the edge of his mother�s lawn. The sun,
declining in the west, threw his shadow across little Polly�s hopscotch
diagram. She looked up. Jesus happened to be holding his mom�s hose near
his crotch and as she spied him she smiled slyly.
With a cough Jesus pulled the hose away from his crotch.
�Don�t get my hopscotch board wet!� Polly cried. The water from
Jesus� hose spurted across a corner of the board, erasing the chalk.
�Ooops! Sorry,� Jesus said. He coughed again. How stupid of him!
But he was 30 and so he was tall compared to Polly and so, even though
he�d just been a dick, little Polly smiled at him with admiration.
�Wanna play hopscotch with me?� Polly asked.
�Sure... sorry I erased part of your board,� Jesus said. Carefully he
laid his mother�s hose down in the grass. He knew he should retreat back
to the house and turn off the water, but he was afraid Polly�s attention
would vanish and she�d be gone by the time he returned. So, leaving the
hose running in the grass, he stepped out onto the sidewalk to play with
Polly. There was a small ditch between the sidewalk and the lawn and the
water pooled in the ditch and ran down onto the neighbor�s driveway,
missing Polly�s hopscotch board. Jesus noticed the water, as it ran
through the ditch, carried dirt with it from the bottom of the ditch and
created a dirty puddle in the neighbor�s driveway. He hoped the neighbors
wouldn�t look outside and notice it.
�Do you want to be ribbies or larks?� Polly asked Jesus.
�Huh?� Jesus asked. He knew nothing about hopscotch.
�Ribbies is throwing the rock this way, and larks is like this,� Polly
said, demonstrating.
�Oh -- Ribbies, I guess,� Jesus decided.
�Ribbies is my favorite. I don�t really like larks,� Polly said.
�Oh, well I�ll be larks then,� Jesus said.
�Good. I like being Ribbies!� Polly said. �Here, I�ll go first. Watch
and you can see what to do when you�re larks.�
�Okay,� Jesus said. He was a Talmudic Law Student and he prayed
that, being able to interpret the Talmud, he might figure out how a �lark�
played hopscotch properly when Polly gave him his turn.
Polly threw her rock. It bounced along the sidewalk and landed on a
square marked with a three.
�One, Two, Three, Four, Open the Door!� Polly yelled. She jumped
down the hopscotch board. Jesus watched her ponytail as it bounced along
behind her and he especially watched the jiggly tight cheeks of her
bottom. Her ass stuck out like a small pumpkin, with a single inviting
crease down the middle. Polly wore shorts and she had obviously grown
some since her mother had bought them for her, for they didn�t quite
manage to cover her little bottom. Jesus could see the white flesh of her
small apple-round cheeks where her swim panties covered her when she
went swimming. But, in shorts now, shorts that were too small for her
lovely round ass, Jesus could easily see the undercurves of her hind
cheeks. Below, her tanned legs danced like the legs of a new foal.
�Your turn,� Polly said. She turned toward him and faced him, from
the far end of the hopscotch board. Jesus realized he was deathly hard in
his crotch and wondered, without looking down, if his thing was
noticeable. Then he saw Polly�s eyes drop from his face to his waist. A
little below his waist, in fact.
�Ooooh, you have a big one!� Polly announced. To Jesus, it seemed as
if the girl had shouted it to the entire neighborhood. �My brother has a big
one, but he never lets me see it,� Polly said.
�Well, uh, yeah, it is kinda big,� Jesus admitted. He looked down at
himself. Damn! It looked like he had a bent torpedo sticking out of the
front of his pants.
�Wanna go inside? If you show me your thing and let me play with it
I�ll make you a bowl of ice cream,� Polly said. She stood staring at Jesus�
prong, her eyes wide, her mouth smiling in invitation. Childishly she stood
with her tummy sticking out in front of her. Though it was perfectly flat
she still held herself like a small girl, jutting it out. Jesus� eyes gazed at
Polly�s tummy and then delved below, where her too-short shorts formed a
tight vee between her lean legs. Jesus could almost see himself drawing
down those little girl shorts, peering into her slit! How heavenly that
would be, to spend the afternoon dallying with Polly indoors, in her
bedroom, showing off his thing to her.
Polly walked up the hopscotch board, pausing to pick up her rock that
she used to play the game with. Then she took Jesus� hand. It felt small
and warm in Jesus� big manly hand, and he was suddenly elated that he had
this small girl�s hand in his palm instead of his own wicked penis.
�Come on, it�s too hot out to play,� Polly said to Jesus. She gave him
a smile, pushed a lock of blonde hair back from her face, and glanced down
at his torpedo-like prick. �Let�s go inside and make ice cream sundaes.
My mom bought cherries -- we can each have a cherry on top!�
�Yes, a cherry on top,� Jesus mumbled to himself. And a thought of
this luscious girl, sitting with her legs wide apart atop his prone form,
flashed through his mind.
Polly led Jesus across the street to her house. As they crossed onto
Polly�s lawn a cat darted through the bushes along the side of Polly�s yard.
�Ooooh, there�s that doggone cat! He always tries to eat my
parakeet!� Polly declared. Her hand left Jesus� and she ran up the lawn
after the cat. Jesus watched as her feet pumped across the grass. Her
legs were breathtakingly long, deeply tanned, and he could once again
admire how short her shorts were in back, leaving exposed the undersides
of her round virgin bottom. Polly darted in amongst the bushes trying to
catch the cat. It leaped up onto a fence that separated Polly�s yard from
the neighbors�. It paused, looked back at Polly disdainfully. She leaped at
the fence, almost caught its tail. Alarmed, the cat jumped down into the
yard beyond.
Jesus came up to the bushes where Polly was panting hard from her
effort to catch the cat. She turned back to him. Her hair was mussed. She
drew air into her lungs in big healthy gasps. She passed her small hand
across her forehead to push her mussed hair out of her eyes. Fortunately
the bulk of her hair remained caught well behind her head in a ponytail,
where it swished whenever she moved.
�Oooh, that cat is SUCH a nuisance!� Polly declared. �I hope I catch
it someday -- my brother promises he�ll cook it for my parakeet if I do!�
Jesus stood admiring little Polly. She was hot and a little sweaty
and her breasts, just budding, rose and fell within her short shirt as her
lungs filled and exhaled. She hugged him. She was short and her face
came up just to his stomach. His cock pressed into her shirt, just above
her breasts. Polly gave a wriggle, as if on purpose, to feel his cock
against her body. Then, sighing, as if from the effort of trying to catch
the cat, but perhaps from something else, Polly stood on tip-toe, so that
her small breasts were forced to accept Jesus� penis between them.
�Mmmm, I need that ice cream weally badly now,� Polly said. She
turned her face up to Jesus and looked at him quite intently. Then, as if
not noticing how hard he�d been as he pressed against her, she let go of his
waist and caught at his big hand and led him up to the front door of her
house.
They went inside. Within the house it was dark and cool. Polly�s
hand felt moist as Jesus held it.
�Oh, goody, nobody�s home,� Polly said. She looked up at Jesus and
smiled conspiratorily. She put her finger to her lips. �Shhhh!� she said.
�Sometimes my dad stays home and naps and even though I think nobody�s
home he actually is.� Then, letting go of Jesus� hand, Polly crept quietly
into an adjoining room. A moment later she returned. There was a happy
grin plastered across her face. �Nope! Not here!� Polly giggled. �Now we
can eat as much ice cream as we want. And cherries too! I�ll blame it all
on my brother if mom asks who had so much ice cream.�
Together Jesus and Polly clasped hands and went to the kitchen.
NOTE to the �Christians� who are spamming me:
WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN THIS STORY?
A: You don�t spam me, and Jesus� mother calls him to come home. She
scolds him for leaving her hose on. Jesus� neighbors come home and find a
big puddle of muddy water in their driveway and complain to Jesus� mom
that her son is �a fucking idiot.�
B: You DO spam me. In that case, Jesus and Polly have fun making a big ice
cream sundae on and around Jesus� bare penis (with a cherry on top).
It�s up to you, �Christians�!
PRAISE THE LORD!
(and Polly too!)
AND IN THE END...
�Pedophilia was described as a disease, a mental illness, the most
mortal of sins. Its carriers were monsters or, the luckier ones,
martyrs. With few exceptions they have been members of the movies�
creepiest underclass... What a destiny, in movies or in life: to be
either reviled or invisible.�
-Time, March 11, 1996, pgs. 66-67 (slightly altered).
(Let a thousand pedophiles bloom! - h.j.)
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-END OF 240 EMISSION
- I jacked off as I wrote �The First Temptation of Christ.� Thanks!